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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cac5b4f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66844 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66844) diff --git a/old/66844-0.txt b/old/66844-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e35cab7..0000000 --- a/old/66844-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7296 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Weevil, by J. Henri Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Life of the Weevil - -Author: J. Henri Fabre - Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - -Release Date: November 29, 2021 [eBook #66844] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file - was produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL *** - - - - - THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE - - THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL - - - BY - J. HENRI FABRE - - Translated by - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS, F.Z.S. - - - HODDER AND STOUGHTON - LIMITED LONDON - - - - - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S NOTE - - -I have gathered into this volume the essays on Weevils contained in the -Souvenirs entomologiques, lest I should swell unduly the number of -volumes devoted to Beetles, of which there will be three in all, or -four if we include the present book. - -Chapters I. and VII. to IX. have already appeared, wholly or in part, -in an illustrated miscellany, entitled The Life and Love of the Insect, -translated by myself and published by Messrs. Adam and Charles Black -(in America by the Macmillan Co.), and Chapter V. and parts of Chapters -XI. and XII. in a similar volume, entitled Social Life in the Insect -World, translated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published by Messrs. T. -Fisher Unwin Ltd. (in America by the Century Co.). I am permitted by -arrangement with the firms named to retranslate and reissue the -chapters in question for the purpose of this collected and definitive -edition of Fabre’s entomological works. - -I am also under no small obligation to Mr. Miall, who has given me the -benefit of his assistance throughout. - - - Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - TRANSLATOR’S NOTE V - - CHAPTER I - THE OLD WEEVILS 1 - - CHAPTER II - THE SPOTTED LARINUS 18 - - CHAPTER III - THE BEAR LARINUS 43 - - CHAPTER IV - THE BOTANICAL INSTINCT 58 - - CHAPTER V - THE ELEPHANT WEEVIL 71 - - CHAPTER VI - THE NUT-WEEVIL 94 - - CHAPTER VII - THE POPLAR-WEEVIL 112 - - CHAPTER VIII - THE VINE-WEEVIL 127 - - CHAPTER IX - OTHER LEAF-ROLLERS 140 - - CHAPTER X - THE SLOE-WEEVIL 157 - - CHAPTER XI - THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE EGGS 184 - - CHAPTER XII - THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE LARVA 199 - - CHAPTER XIII - THE HARICOT-WEEVIL 213 - - CHAPTER XIV - THE IRIS-WEEVIL 235 - - CHAPTER XV - THE CIONUS 246 - - INDEX 275 - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE OLD WEEVILS - - -In winter, when the insect takes an enforced rest, the study of -numismatics affords me some delightful moments. I love to interrogate -its metal disks, the records of the petty things which men call -history. In this soil of Provence, where the Greek planted the -olive-tree and the Roman planted the law, the peasant finds coins, -scattered more or less everywhere, when he turns the sod. He brings -them to me and consults me upon their pecuniary value, never upon their -meaning. - -What matters to him the inscription on his treasure-trove! Men suffered -of yore, they suffer to-day, they will suffer in the future: to him all -history is summed up in that! The rest is sheer futility, a pastime of -the idle. - -I do not possess this lofty philosophy of indifference to things of the -past. I scratch the piece of money with my finger-nail, I carefully -strip it of its earthy rind, I examine it with the magnifying-glass, I -try to decipher its lettering. And my satisfaction is no small one when -the bronze or silver disk has spoken. For then I have read a page of -humanity, not in books, which are chroniclers open to suspicion, but in -records which are, in a manner, living and which were contemporary with -the persons and the facts. - -This bit of silver, flattened with the die, speaks to me of the -Vocontii. [1] - -‘VOOC ... VOCUNT,’ says the inscription. - -It comes from the small neighbouring town of Vaison, where Pliny the -naturalist [2] sometimes spent a holiday. Here perhaps, at his host’s -table, the celebrated compiler learnt to appreciate the Beccafico, [3] -famous among the Roman epicures and still renowned to-day, under the -name of Grasset, among our Provençal gastronomers. It is a pity that my -bit of silver says nothing of these events, more memorable than any -battle. - -It shows on one side a head and on the other a galloping horse, all -barbarously inaccurate. A child trying its hand for the first time with -a sharp-pointed stone on the fresh mortar of the walls would produce no -more shapeless design. No, of a surety, those bold Allobroges were no -artists. - -How greatly superior to them were the foreigners from Phocæa! Here is a -drachma of the Massalietes: [4] ΜΑΣΣΑΛΙΗΤΩΝ. On the obverse, a head of -Diana of Ephesus, chub-faced, full-cheeked, thick-lipped. A receding -forehead, surmounted by a diadem; an abundant head of hair, streaming -down the neck in a cascade of curls; heavy ear-drops, a pearl necklace, -a bow slung over the shoulder. Thus was the idol decked by the hands of -the pious Syrian. - -To tell the truth, it is not æsthetic. It is sumptuous, if you will, -and preferable, after all, to the donkey’s-ears which our modern -beauties wear perched upon their heads. What a singular freak is -fashion, so fertile in the means of uglification! Commerce knows -nothing of loveliness, says this divinity of the traders; it prefers -profit, embellished with luxury. So speaks the drachma. - -On the reverse, a lion clawing the ground and roaring wide-mouthed. Not -of to-day alone is the savagery that symbolizes power in the shape of -some formidable brute, as though evil were the supreme expression of -strength. The eagle, the lion and other marauders often figure on the -reverse of coins. But reality is not sufficient; the imagination -invents monstrosities: the centaur, the dragon, the griffin, the -unicorn, the double-headed eagle. - -Are the inventors of these emblems so greatly superior to the Redskin -who celebrates the prowess of his scalping-knife with a Bear’s paw, a -Falcon’s wing or a Puma’s tooth stuck in his hair? We may safely doubt -it. - -How preferable to these heraldic horrors is the reverse of our own -silver coinage recently brought into circulation! It represents a sower -who, with a nimble hand, at sunrise, fills the furrows with the good -seed of thought. It is very simple and it is great; it makes us -reflect. - -The Marseilles drachma has for its sole merit its magnificent relief. -The artist who made the dies was a master of the graver’s tool; but he -lacked the breath of inspiration. His chub-faced Diana is no better -than a trollop. - -Here is the NAMASAT of the Volscæ, which became the colony of Nîmes. -Side by side, profiles of Augustus and of his minister Agrippa. The -former, with his dour forehead, his flat skull, his acquisitive broken -nose, inspires me with but little confidence, notwithstanding what -gentle Virgil said of him: Deus nobis hæc otia fecit. [5] It is success -that makes gods. Had he not succeeded in his criminal projects, -Augustus the divine would have remained Octavius the scoundrel. - -His minister pleases me better. He was a great mover of stones, who, -with his building operations, his aqueducts and his roads, came and -civilized the rude Volscæ a little. Not far from my village a splendid -road crosses the plain, starting from the banks of the Aygues, and -climbs up yonder, tedious in its monotonous length, to cross the -Sérignan hills, under the protection of a mighty oppidum, which, much -later, became the old castle, the castelas. It is a section of -Agrippa’s Road, which joined Marseilles and Vienne. The majestic -ribbon, twenty centuries old, is still frequented. We no longer see the -little brown foot-soldier of the Roman legions upon it; in his stead we -see the peasant going to market at Orange, with his flock of Sheep or -his drove of unruly Porkers. Of the two I prefer the peasant. - -Let us turn over our green-crusted penny. ‘COL. NEM.,’ [6] the reverse -tells us. The inscription is accompanied by a Crocodile chained to a -palm-tree from which hang crowns. It is an emblem of Egypt, conquered -by the veterans who founded the colony. The beast typifying the Nile -gnashes its teeth at the foot of the familiar tree. It speaks to us of -Antony, the Don Juan; it tells us of Cleopatra, whose nose, had it been -an inch shorter, would have changed the face of the globe. Thanks to -the memories which it awakens, the scaly-backed reptile becomes a -superb historical lesson. - -In this way, the important lessons of the numismatics of metals might -be continued for many a day and be constantly varied without departing -from my immediate neighbourhood. But there is another science of -numismatics, far superior and less costly, which, with its medals, the -fossils, tells us the history of life. I refer to the numismatics of -stones. - -My very window-sill, the confidant of bygone ages, talks to me of a -vanished world. It is, literally speaking, an ossuary, whose every -particle retains the imprint of past lives. That block of stone has -lived. Prickly spines of Sea-urchins, teeth and vertebræ of fish, -broken pieces of shells and fragments of madrepores form a -conglomeration of dead existences. Examined stone by stone, my house -would resolve itself into a reliquary, a rag-fair of ancient things -that were once alive. - -The rocky stratum from which we extract our building materials in these -parts covers with its mighty shell the greater portion of the -neighbouring uplands. Here the quarryman has been digging for none -knows how many centuries, perhaps since the time when Agrippa hewed -Cyclopean blocks to form the stages and the face of the theatre at -Orange. And here daily the pick-axe uncovers curious fossils. The most -remarkable of these are teeth, still wonderfully polished in the midst -of their rough matrix and as bright with enamel as in the fresh state. -Some of them are formidable, three-cornered, finely jagged at the -edges, almost as large as a man’s hand. What a yawning gulf, a jaw -armed with such a set of teeth in manifold rows, placed stepwise almost -to the back of the gullet! What mouthfuls, snapped up and lacerated by -those notched shears! You shiver at the mere thought of reconstructing -that awful implement of destruction! - -The monster thus equipped as a prince of death belonged to the family -of the Squali. Palæontology calls him Carcharodon megalodon. Our modern -Shark, the terror of the seas, gives an approximate idea of him, in so -far as a dwarf can give an idea of a giant. - -Other Squali, all ferocious gluttons, abound within the same stone. It -contains Oxyrhinæ (O. xyphodon, Agass.), whose jaws are furnished with -curved and toothed Malay creeses; Lamiæ (L. denticulata, Agass.), whose -mouths bristle with sharp, flexuous daggers, flat on one side, convex -on the other; and Notidani (N. primigenius, Agass.), whose sunken teeth -are crowned with radiating indentations. - -This dental arsenal, bearing eloquent witness to bygone massacres, can -hold its own with the Nîmes Crocodile, the Marseilles Diana or the -Vaison Horse. With its panoply of carnage, it tells me how -extermination came at all times to prune the excess of life; it says: - -‘On the very spot where you stand meditating upon a splinter of stone, -an arm of the sea once stretched, filled with warlike devourers and -peaceful victims. A deep inlet occupied the future site of the Rhone -valley. Its billows broke not far from your house.’ - -Here in fact are the cliffs of the shore, in such a state of -preservation that, when I concentrate my thoughts, I seem to hear the -thunder of curving billows. Sea-urchins, Lithodomi, [7] Petricolæ, [8] -Pholades [9] have left their signatures upon the rock: hemispherical -recesses large enough to contain one’s fist; circular cells; cabins -with a narrow opening through which the recluse received the incoming -water, laden with food and constantly renewed. Sometimes the erstwhile -occupant is there, mineralized, intact to the smallest details of his -striæ, of his scales, a brittle ornamentation; more often he has -disappeared, fallen into decay, and his house has filled with a fine -sea-mud, hardened into a chalky kernel. - -In this quiet inlet, collected by some eddy from the surrounding -sea-bed and sunk to the bottom of the oozes, now turned into marl, -there are stupendous deposits of shells, of every shape and size. It is -a molluscs’ burying-ground, with hills for tumuli. I dig up Oysters -eighteen inches long and weighing five or six pounds apiece. One could -scoop up from this enormous heap Scallops, Coni, [10] Cytheres, [11] -Mactræ, [12] Murices, [13] Turritellæ, [14] Mitræ [15] and others too -numerous, too innumerable, to mention. You stand stupefied before the -intense vitality of the days of old, which was able to supply us with -such a mass of relics in a mere hole in the ground. - -This necropolis of shells tells us also that time, that patient renewer -of the harmony of things, has mown down not only the individual, a -precarious being, but also the species. Nowadays the neighbouring sea, -the Mediterranean, contains hardly anything identical with the -population of the vanished gulf. To find a few features of resemblance -between the present and the past, we should have to seek them in the -tropical seas. - -The climate therefore has become colder; the sun is slowly approaching -extinction; the species are dying out. Thus I am told by the -numismatics of my stone window-sill. - -Without leaving my field of observation, so modest and restricted and -yet so rich, let us once more consult the stone and this time on the -subject of the insect. The country around Apt abounds in a curious rock -that breaks off in flakes, not unlike sheets of whity-grey cardboard, -which burn with a sooty flame and a bituminous smell. It was deposited -at the bottom of the great lakes haunted by Crocodiles and giant -Tortoises. Those lakes were never beheld by human eye. Their basins -have been replaced by the range of the hills; their muds, slowly -deposited in thin layers, have become mighty ridges of stone. - -Let us remove a slab and subdivide it into flakes with the point of a -knife, a task as easy as separating the superimposed sheets of a piece -of paste-board. In so doing we are examining a volume taken from the -library of the mountains; we are turning the pages of a magnificently -illustrated book. It is a manuscript of nature, far superior to any -Egyptian papyrus. On almost every page are diagrams, nay better, -realities converted into pictures. - -Here is a page of fish, grouped at random. One might take them for a -dish fried in oil. Backbone, fins, vertebral column, the little bones -of the head, the crystalline lens turned into a black globule: all is -there, in its natural arrangement. One thing alone is absent: the -flesh. No matter: our dish of gudgeons looks so good that we feel -tempted to scratch a bit off with our finger and taste this -super-secular preserve. Let us indulge our fancy and put between our -teeth a morsel of this mineral fry seasoned with petroleum. - -There is no inscription to the picture. Reflection makes good the -deficiency. It tells us: - -‘These fish lived here, in large numbers, in peaceful waters. Suddenly -a spate came, asphyxiating them in its mud-thickened torrent. Buried -forthwith in the mire and thus rescued from the agents of destruction, -they have endured through time and will endure indefinitely, under the -cover of their winding-sheet.’ - -The same flood brought from the adjacent rain-swept shores a host of -refuse, both vegetable and animal, so much so that the lacustrian -deposit tells also of things on land. It is a general record of the -life of the time. - -Let us turn a page of our slab, or rather of our album. Here are winged -seeds, leaves outlined in brown impressions. The stone herbal rivals -the botanical clearness of our ordinary herbals. It repeats what the -shells have already taught us: the world is changing, the sun is losing -its strength. The vegetation of modern Provence is not what it was in -the old days; it no longer includes palm-trees, laurels oozing with -camphor, tufted araucarias and many other trees and shrubs whose -equivalents belong to the torrid regions. - -Continue to turn the pages. We now come to insects. The most frequent -are Diptera, of moderate size, often very humble Flies and Gnats. The -teeth of the great Squali surprised us by their smooth polish amid the -roughness of their chalky matrix. What shall we say of these frail -Midges enshrined intact in their marly reliquary? The feeble creature, -which our fingers could not pick up without crushing it, remains -undisturbed beneath the weight of the mountains! The six slender legs, -which the least touch is enough to disjoint, lie spread upon the stone, -correct in shape and arrangement, in the attitude of the insect at -rest. There is nothing lacking, not even the tiny double claws at the -end of the tarsi. Here are the two wings, unfurled. The fine network of -their veins can be studied under the lens as clearly as in the Fly of -our collections, stuck on a pin. The antennary plumes have lost none of -their fragile grace; the abdomen gives us the number of the segments, -edged with a row of specks which once were cilia. - -Even the carcase of a Mastodon, defying time in its sandy bed, fills us -with amazement; a Gnat of exquisite delicacy, preserved intact in the -thickness of the rock, staggers our imagination. - -Certainly, the Mosquito, borne along by the floods, did not come from -far away. Before he arrived, some turbulent streamlet must have reduced -him to the nothingness to which he was already so near. Slain by the -joys of a morning—a long life for a Gnat—he fell from the top of his -reed, was straightway drowned and disappeared in the muddy catacombs. - -Who are these others, these dumpy creatures, with hard, convex -wing-cases, which next to the Flies are the most numerous. Their small -heads, prolonged into a snout, tell us beyond dispute. They are -proboscidian Beetles, Rhynchophoræ, or, in simpler terms, Weevils. -There are small ones, middling ones, large ones, similar in dimensions -to their counterparts of to-day. - -Their position on the limestone slab is not as correct as the -Mosquito’s. The legs are entangled anyhow; the beak, the rostrum, is -now hidden under the breast, now projects forward. Some display it in -profile; others—more frequent these—stretch it to one side, as the -result of a twisted neck. These contorted insects, with their -dislocated members, did not receive the swift and peaceful burial of -the Flies. Though sundry of them may have lived on the plants by the -shore, the others, the majority, come from the surrounding parts, -carried by the rain-water, which warped their joints in crossing such -obstacles as twigs and stones. A suit of armour has kept the body -unscathed, but the delicate articulations of the members have given way -to some extent; and the muddy winding-sheet received the drowned -Beetles as the ravages of the journey left them. - -These strangers, coming perhaps from afar, supply us with valuable -information. They tell us that, if the shores of the gulf had the -Mosquito as chief representative of the insect class, the woods had the -Weevil. - -Apart from the snout-bearing family, the pages of my Apt rock show me -scarcely anything else, especially in the order of the Beetles. Where -are the other terrestrial groups, the Carabus, [16] the Dung-beetle, -[17] the Capricorn, [18] whom the wash of the rains, indifferent as to -its harvest, would have brought to the lake even as it did the Weevil? -There is not the least vestige of those tribes, so prosperous to-day. - -Where are the Hydrophilus, [19] the Gyrinus, [20] the Dytiscus, [21] -all inhabitants of the water? These lacustrians had every chance of -being handed down to us as mummies between two sheets of marl. If there -were any in those days, they used to live in the lake, whose mud would -have preserved these horn-clad insects even more effectually than the -little fishes and more especially the Fly. Well, of these aquatic -Beetles there is no trace either. - -Where were they, where were those who are missing from the geological -reliquary? Where were the inhabitants of the thickets, of the -green-swards, of the worm-eaten tree-trunks: Capricorns, borers of -wood; Sacred Beetles, workers in dung; Carabi, disembowellers of game? -One and all were in the limbo of the time to come. The present of that -period did not possess them; the future awaited them. The Weevil, if I -may credit the modest records which I am able to consult, must -therefore be the oldest of the Beetles. - -In the beginning, life fashioned oddities which would be screaming -discords in the present harmony of things. When it invented the -saurian, it revelled at first in monsters from fifteen to twenty yards -long. It placed horns upon their noses and above their eyes, paved -their backs with fantastic scales, and hollowed their necks into spiny -pouches wherein their heads withdrew as into a hood. It even tried, -though with no great success, to give them wings. After these horrors, -the procreating ardour calmed down and produced the charming Green -Lizard of our hedges. - -When it invented the bird, it filled its beak with the reptile’s -pointed teeth and suspended from its rump a long, feather-clad tail. -These indeterminate and revoltingly hideous creatures were the distant -prelude to the Robin Redbreast and the Dove. - -All these primitives are noted for a very small skull, an idiot’s -brain. The prehistoric animal is first and foremost an atrocious -machine for grabbing, with a stomach for digesting. The intellect does -not count as yet. That will come later. - -The Weevil, in his fashion, repeats these aberrations to a certain -extent. See the extravagant appendage to his little head. It is here a -short, thick snout; there a sturdy beak, round or cut four-square; -elsewhere a foolish reed, thin as a hair, long as the body and longer. -At the tip of this egregious instrument, in the terminal mouth, are the -fine shears of the mandibles; on either side, the antennæ, with their -first joints fitting into a groove. - -What is the use of this beak, this snout, this caricature of a nose? -Where did the insect find the model for it? Nowhere. The Weevil -invented it and retains the monopoly. Outside his family, no Beetle -indulges in these nasal eccentricities. - -Observe also the smallness of the head, a bulb that hardly swells -beyond the base of the snout. What can it have inside? A very poor -nervous equipment, the sign of exceedingly limited instincts. Before -seeing them at work, we have a poor opinion of the intelligence of -these microcephalics; we class them among the obtuse, among creatures -deprived of industry. These surmises will not be greatly belied. - -Though the Weevil be but little glorified by his talents, this is no -reason for despising him. As we learn from the lacustrian schists, he -was in the van of the insects with the armoured wing-cases; he was long -stages ahead of those which were working out new forms within the -limits of the possible. He speaks to us of primitive shapes, sometimes -so quaint; he is in his own little world what the bird with the toothed -mandibles and the saurian with the horned eyebrows are in a higher -world. - -In ever-thriving legions, he has come down to us without changing his -characteristics. He is to-day as he was in the youth of the continents: -the pictures on the chalky slates proclaim the fact aloud. Under any -such picture I would venture to write the name of the genus, sometimes -even of the species. - -Permanence of instinct must go with permanence of form. By consulting -the modern Weevil we shall therefore obtain a chapter closely -approximate to the biology of his predecessors at the time when -Provence was a land of great lakes shaded by palm-trees and filled with -Crocodiles. The history of the present will teach us the history of the -past. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SPOTTED LARINUS - - -Larinus is a vague term, which cannot teach us anything. The word -sounds well. It is something not to afflict the ear with raucous -spittings; but the prentice reader wants more than this. He expects the -name to give him, in euphonious syllables, a brief description of the -insect named. This would help to guide him in the midst of the vast -multitude. - -I cordially agree with him, while recognizing what an arduous task it -would be to devise a rational nomenclature that would give the beasts -the forenames and surnames which they deserve. Our ignorance condemns -us to be vague and often nonsensical. Let us consider a case in point. - -What does Larinus mean? The Greek lexicon tells us: Λαρινός, fatty, -fat. Has the insect which is the subject of this chapter any right to -such a description? Not at all. It is corpulent, I agree, as are the -Weevils generally, but does not more than another deserve a certificate -of obesity. - -Let us look a little deeper. Λαρός means pleasant to the taste, -pleasant to the eye, dainty, sweet. Are we there now? Not yet. To be -sure, the Larinus is not without daintiness, but how many among the -long-nosed Beetles excel him in beauty of costume! Our osier-beds -provide nourishment for some that are flecked with flowers of sulphur, -some that are laced with Chinese white, some that are powdered with -malachite-green. They leave on our fingers a scaly dust that looks as -though it were gathered from a Butterfly’s wing. Our vines and -poplar-trees have some that surpass copper pyrites in metallic lustre; -the equatorial countries furnish specimens of unparalleled -magnificence, true gems beside which the marvels of our jewel-cases -would pale. No, the modest Larinus has no right to be extolled as -superb. The title of dandy must be awarded to others, in the -beak-bearing family, rather than to him. - -If his godfather, better-informed, had named him after his habits, he -would have called him an artichoke-thief. The group of the Larini, in -fact, establishes its offspring in the fleshy base of the flowers of -the Carduaceæ, the thistle, the cotton-thistle, the centaury, the -carline thistle and others, which, in structure and flavour, recall -more or less remotely the artichoke of our tables. This is its special -province. The Larinus is charged with the thinning out of the fierce, -encroaching thistle. - -Glance at the pink, white or blue heads of a Carduacea. Long-beaked -insects swarm, awkwardly diving into the mass of florets. What are -they? Larini. Open the head, split its fleshy base. Surprised by the -air and by the light, plump, white, legless grubs sway to and fro, each -isolated in a small recess. What are these grubs? Larinus-larvæ. - -Here accuracy calls for a reservation. A few other Weevils, related to -those whose history we are considering, are also partial, on behalf of -their family, to the fleshy receptacles with the artichoke flavour. No -matter: the species that take the lead in numbers, frequency and -handsome proportions are the authorized exterminators of the -thistle-heads. Now the reader knows as much as I can tell him. - -All the summer, all the autumn, until the cold weather sets in, the -most ornamental of our southern thistles grows profusely by the -roadside. Its pretty, blue flowers, gathered into round, prickly heads, -have won it the botanical name of Echinops, in allusion to the Hedgehog -rolled into a ball. It is indeed like a Hedgehog. Better still: it is -like a Sea-urchin stuck upon a stalk and turned into an azure globe. - -Beneath a screen of star-shaped flowerets the shapely tuft hides the -thousand daggers of its scales. Whosoever touches it with an incautious -finger is surprised to encounter such aggressiveness beneath an -innocent appearance. The leaves that go with it, green above, white and -fluffy underneath, do at least warn the inexperienced: they are divided -into pointed lobes, each of which bears an extremely sharp needle at -its tip. - -This thistle is the patrimony of the Spotted Larinus (L. maculosus, -Sch.), whose back is powdered with cloudy yellow patches. The Weevil -browses very sparingly on the leaves. June is not yet over before she -is exploiting the heads, green at this time and the size of peas, or at -most of cherries, with a view to establishing her family. For two or -three weeks the work of colonization continues on globes which grow -bluer and larger day by day. - -Couples are formed, very peaceably, in the glad morning sunlight. The -nuptial preliminaries, resembling the embraces of jointed levers, -display a rustic awkwardness. With his fore-legs the male Weevil -masters his spouse; with his hinder tarsi, gently and at intervals, he -strokes her sides. Alternating with these soft caresses are sudden -jolts and impetuous jerks. Meanwhile, the object of these attentions, -in order to lose no time, works at the thistle-head with her beak and -prepares the lodging for her egg. Even in the midst of her wedding the -care of the family leaves this laborious insect no repose. - -What precisely is the use of the Weevil’s rostrum, this paradoxical -nose, such as no carnival mummer would venture to wear? We shall find -out at leisure, taking our own time. - -My prisoners, enclosed in a wire-gauze cover, are working in the -sunlight on my window-sill. A couple has just broken apart. Careless of -what will happen next, the male retires to browse for a while, not on -the blue thistle-heads, which are choice morsels reserved for the -young, but on the leaves, where a superficial scraping enables the beak -to remove some frugal mouthfuls. The mother remains where she is and -continues the boring already commenced. - -The rostrum is driven right into the ball of florets and disappears -from sight. The insect hardly moves, taking at most a few slow strides -now in one direction, now in another. What we see is not the work of a -gimlet, which twists, but of an awl, which sinks steadily downwards. -The mandibles, the sharp shears affixed to the implement, bite and dig; -and that is all. In the end, the rostrum used as a lever, that is to -say, bending upon its base, uproots and lifts the detached florets and -pushes them a little way outwards. This must cause the slight -unevenness which we perceive at any inhabited point. The work of -excavation lasts a good quarter of an hour. - -Then the mother turns about, finds the opening of the shaft with the -tip of her belly and lays the egg. But how? The pregnant insect’s -abdomen is far too large and too blunt to enter the narrow passage and -deposit the egg directly at the bottom. A special tool, a probe -carrying the egg to the point required, is therefore absolutely needed -here. But the insect does not possess one that shows; and things take -place so swiftly and discreetly that I see nothing of that kind -unsheathed. - -No matter, I am positively convinced of it: to place the egg at the -bottom of the shaft which the rostrum has just bored, the mother must -possess a guide-rod, a rigid tube, kept in reserve, invisible, among -her tools. We shall return to this curious subject when more conclusive -instances arise. - -One first point is gained: the Weevil’s rostrum, that nose which at -first sight was deemed grotesque, is in reality an instrument of -maternal love. The extravagant becomes the everyday, the indispensable. -Since it carries mandibles and other mouth parts at its tip, its -function is to eat, that is self-evident; but to this function is added -another of greater importance. The fantastic stylet prepares the way -for the eggs; it is the oviduct’s collaborator. - -And this implement, the emblem of the guild, is so honourable that the -father does not hesitate to sport it, though himself incapable of -digging the family cells. Like his consort, he too carries an awl, but -a smaller one, as befits the modesty of his rôle. - -A second point becomes clear. In order to insert the egg at convenient -points, it is the rule for the insect to possess an implement with two -functions, an implement which at the same time opens the passage and -guides the eggs along it. This is the case with the Cicada, [22] the -Grasshopper, [23] the Saw-fly, the Leucospis [24] and the -Ichneumon-fly, [25] all of whom carry a sabre, a saw or a probe at the -tip of the abdomen. - -The Weevil divides the work and apportions it between two implements, -one of which, in front, is the perforating auger, and the other, -behind, hidden in the body and unsheathed at the moment of the laying, -is the guiding tube. Except in the Weevils, this curious mechanism is -unknown to me. - -When the egg is placed in position—and this is quickly done, thanks to -the preliminary work of the drill—the mother returns to the point -colonized. She packs the disturbed materials a little, she lightly -pushes back the uprooted florets; then, without taking further trouble, -she goes away. She sometimes even dispenses with these precautions. - -A few hours later, I examine the heads exploited, which may be -recognized by a certain number of faded and slightly projecting -patches, each of which shelters an egg. With the point of my penknife I -extract the little, faded bundle and open it. At the base, in a small -round cell, hollowed out of the substance of the central globule, the -receptacle of the thistle-head, is the egg, fairly large, yellow and -oval. - -It is enveloped in a brown substance derived from the tissues injured -by the mother’s auger and from the exudations of the wound, which have -set like cement. This envelope rises into an irregular cone and ends in -the withered florets. In the centre of the tuft we generally see an -opening, which might well be a ventilating-shaft. - -The number of eggs entrusted to a single head may easily be ascertained -without destroying the cells: all that we need do is to count the -yellow blurs unevenly distributed over the blue background. I have -found five, six and more, even in a head smaller than a cherry. Each -covers an egg. Do all these eggs come from the same mother? It is -possible. At the same time, they may be of diverse origin, for it is -not unusual to surprise two mothers both occupied in laying eggs on the -same globe. - -Sometimes the points worked upon almost touch. The mother, it seems, -has a very restricted numerical sense and is incapable of keeping count -of the occupants. She drives her probe into the florets, unheeding that -the place beside her is already taken. As a rule there are too many, -far too many feasters at the niggardly banquet of the blue thistle. -Three at most will find enough to live on. The first-comers will -thrive; the laggards will perish for lack of room at the common table. - -The grubs are hatched in a week: little white atoms with red heads to -them. Suppose them to be three in number, as frequently happens. What -have the little creatures in their larder? Next to nothing. The -echinops is an exception among the Carduaceæ. Its flowers do not rest -upon a fleshy receptacle expanded into a heart, like the artichoke’s. -Let us open one of the heads. In the centre, as a common support, is a -round firm nucleus, a globe hardly as large as a peppercorn, fixed on -the top of a little column which is a continuation of the axis of the -stem. That is all. - -A scanty, a very scanty provision for three consumers. In bulk there is -not enough to furnish the first few meals of a single grub; still less -is there enough—for it is very tough and unsubstantial—to provide for -those fine layers of fat which make the grub look as sleek as butter -and are employed as reserves during the transformation. - -Nevertheless, it is in this paltry globule and the small column which -supports it that the three boarders find, their whole life long, the -wherewithal to feed and grow. Not a bite is given elsewhere; and even -so the attack is delivered with extreme discretion. The food is rasped -and nibbled on the surface and not completely consumed. - -To make much out of nothing, to fill three starveling bellies, -sometimes four, with a single crumb, would be out of the question. The -secret of the food-supply is not contained in the small amount of solid -matter that has disappeared. Let us look into this more closely. - -I take out a few larvæ which are already fairly well-grown and install -dwellings and dwellers in glass tubes. For a long time, with my -pocket-lens, I watch the prisoners. I cannot see that they bite into -the central knob, which is already damaged, nor the axis, which also -has been cut into. From these surfaces, which have been scored since I -know not how long; from what appeared to be their daily bread, their -mandibles remove not the smallest particle. At most the mouth is -applied for a moment to the surface; then it is withdrawn, uneasy and -disdainful. It is evident that the ligneous fare, though still quite -fresh, does not suit. - -The proof is completed by the final result of my experiments. In vain I -keep the thistle-heads fresh in glass tubes, plugged with a stopper of -wet cotton-wool: my attempts at rearing are not once crowned with -success. As soon as the head is removed from the plant, its inhabitants -begin to die of starvation, whether I intervene or whether I do not. -They all pine away in the heart of their native globe and at last -perish, no matter in what receptacle—test-tube, flask or tin box—I -place my collection. Later, on the other hand, when the feeding-period -is over, I shall find it very easy to keep the grubs in good condition -and to follow at will their preparations for the nymphosis. - -This failure tells me that the larva of the Spotted Larinus does not -sustain itself with solid food; it prefers the clear broth of the sap. -It taps the cask of its azure cellar, that is to say, it makes a -careful gash in the axis of the head as well as in the central nucleus. - -From these surface wounds, which are kept open by fresh strokes of the -plane as soon as a dry scab forms upon them, it laps the sap of the -thistle, which oozes up from the roots. As long as the blue globe is on -its stalk, very much alive, the sap ascends, the broached casks exude -their contents and the grub sips the nourishing draught. But, once -detached from the stem, cut off from its source of supply, the cellar -runs dry. Thereupon the larva promptly dies. This explains the fatal -catastrophe of my attempts to rear it. - -All that the Larinus-larvæ need is to lick the exudations from a wound. -The method employed is henceforth obvious. The new-born grubs, hatched -upon the central globe, take their places around its axis, -proportioning the distance between them to the number of guests. Each -of them peels and slashes with its mandibles the part in front of it, -causing the nutritious moisture to exude. If the spring dries up -through healing, fresh bites revive it. - -But the attack is made with circumspection, The central column and its -circular capital form the mainstay of the globe. If too extensively -injured, the scaffolding would bend before the wind and bring down the -dwelling. Moreover, the conduits of the aqueduct must be respected, if -a suitable supply of sap is to be provided until the end. Accordingly, -whether three or four in number, the grubs abstain from rasping the -surface too deeply. - -The cuts, which amount to no more than a judicious paring of the -surface, imperil neither the solidity of the structure nor the action -of the vessels, so that the blossoms, their plunderers notwithstanding, -retain a very healthy appearance. They expand as usual, except that the -pretty, blue ground is stained with yellow patches, which grow wider -from day to day. At each of these points, a grub is established under -the cover of the dead florets. Each blemish marks one diner’s seat at -table. - -The florets, as we said, have for their common support, for their -receptacle, the round knob surmounting the axis. It is on this globule -that the grubs begin. They attack a few of the florets at their base, -uprooting them without injuring them and thrusting them upwards with a -heave of the back. The spot thus cleared is slightly broken into and -hollowed out and becomes the first refreshment-bar. - -What becomes of the items removed? Are they thrown to the ground as -inconvenient rubbish? The tiny creature is careful not to do anything -of the kind, which would mean exposing its plump back, a small but -enticing morsel, to the eyes of the foe. - -Pushed back, the materials cleared away remain intact, still clustered -together in their natural position. Not a flake, not a chip falls to -earth. By means of a quick-setting, rain-proof glue, the whole of the -fragments detached are cemented to the base in a continuous sheaf, so -that the blossom is kept intact, save for the yellowish tint of the -parts wounded. As the grub increases in size, more florets are cut away -and take their place, beside the others, in the roof, which swells by -degrees and ends by bulging out. - -Thus a quiet dwelling is obtained, sheltered from wind and weather and -the heat of the sun. Within, the hermit sips at his cask in safety; he -waxes big and fat. I suspected it, that the larva would be able to make -up by its own industry for the rough-and-ready installation of the egg! -Where maternal care is lacking, the grub possesses special talents as a -safeguard. - -Nevertheless, nothing in the grub of the Spotted Larinus reveals the -skilful builder of thatched huts. It is a little sausage of a creature, -a rusty yellow in colour and bent into a hook. There is not a vestige -of legs; the whole equipment consists of the mouth and the opposite -end, an active auxiliary. What can this little roll of rancid butter be -capable of doing? To observe it at work is easy enough at the -propitious moment. - -In the middle of August, when the larva, having achieved its full -growth, is busy strengthening and plastering its abode in view of the -approaching nymphosis, I half-open a few cells. The hulls opened, but -still adhering to the natal blossom, are arranged in a row in a glass -tube which will enable me to watch the work without disturbing the -worker. I have not long to wait for the result. - -In a state of repose, the grub is a hook with the extremities very near -together. From time to time I see it bring the two ends into intimate -contact and close the circuit. Then—do not let us be shocked by the -grub’s procedure: this would mean misconceiving life’s sacred -simplicities—then with its mandibles it very neatly gathers from the -stercoral orifice a tiny drop the size of an ordinary pin’s head. It is -a muddy white liquid, flowing like gum, similar in appearance to the -resinous beads that ooze from the horned galls of the turpentine-tree -when you break them. - -The grub spreads its little drop over the edges of the breach made in -its dwelling; it distributes it here and there, very sparingly; it -pushes and coaxes it into the gaps. Then, attacking the adjacent -florets, it picks out the shreds and chips and bits of hairs. - -This does not satisfy it. It rasps the axis and the central nucleus of -the blossom, detaching tiny scraps and atoms. A laborious task, for the -mandibles are short and cut badly. They tear rather than slice. - -All this is distributed over the still fresh cement. This done, the -grub bestirs itself most strenuously, bending into a hook and -straightening out again; it rolls and glides about its cabin to make -the materials amalgamate and to smooth the wall with the pad of its -round rump. - -When this pressing and polishing is finished, the larva once more -curves into a circle. A second white drop appears at the factory-door. -The mandibles take hold of the ignominious product as they would of an -ordinary mouthful; and the process is repeated as before: the cell is -first smeared with glue and then encrusted with ligneous particles. - -After thus expending a certain number of trowelfuls of cement, the grub -remains motionless; it seems to be abandoning a job too much for its -means. Twenty-four hours later, the open hulls are still gaping. An -attempt has been made to repair the cell, but not to close it -thoroughly. The task is too heavy. - -What is lacking? Not the ligneous materials, which can always be -obtained from the grub’s surroundings, but the adhesive cement, the -factory having closed down. And why has it closed down? The answer is -quite simple: because the vessels of the thistle-head detached from its -stalk are dry and can no longer furnish the food upon which everything -depends. - -The curly-bearded Chaldean used to build with bricks of mud baked in -the kiln and cemented with bitumen. The Weevil of the blue thistle -possessed the secret of asphalt long before man did. Better still: to -put its method into practice with a rapidity and economy unknown to the -Babylonian contractors, it had and still has its own well of bitumen. - -What can this viscous substance be? As I have explained, it appears in -opal drops at the waste-pipe of the intestine. Becoming hard and -resinous on contact with the air, it turns a tawny red, so much so that -the inside of the cell looks at first as though coated with -quince-jelly. The final hue is a dull brown, against which pale specks -of mixed ligneous refuse stand out sharply. - -The first idea that occurs to one’s mind is that the Weevil’s glue must -be some special secretion, not unlike silk, but emerging from the -opposite pole. Can there be actually glands secreting a viscous fluid -in the grub’s hinder part? I open a larva which is busily building. -Things are not as I imagined: there is no glandular apparatus attached -to the lower end of the digestive canal. - -Nor is there anything to be seen in the ventricle. Only the Malpighian -tubes, which are rather large and four in number, reveal, by their -opaline tint, the fact that they are fairly full; while the lower -portion of the intestine is dilated with a pulpy substance which -conspicuously attracts the eye. - -It is a semi-fluid, viscous, treacly material of a muddy white. I -perceive that it contains an abundance of opaque corpuscles, like -finely powdered chalk, which effervesce when dissolved in nitric acid -and are therefore uric products. - -This very soft pulp is, beyond a doubt, the cement which the grub -ejects and collects drop by drop; and the rectum is obviously the -bitumen-warehouse. The parity of aspect, colour, and treacly -consistency are to me decisive: the grub consolidates and cements and -creates a work of art with the refuse from its sewer. - -Is this really an excremental residue? Doubts may be permitted. The -four Malpighian tubes which have poured the powdered urates into the -intestine might well supply it with other materials. They do not in -general seem to perform very exclusive duties. Why should they not be -entrusted with various functions in a poorly-equipped organism? They -fill with a chalky broth to enable the Capricorn’s larva to block the -doorway of its cell with a marble slab. It would not be at all -surprising if they were also gorged with the viscous fluid that becomes -the asphalt of the Larinus. - -In this embarrassing instance the following explanation may possibly -suffice. The Larinus’ larva observes, as we know, a very light diet, -consisting of sap instead of solid food. Therefore there is no coarse -residue. I have never seen any dirt in the cell; its cleanliness is -perfect. - -This does not mean that all the nourishment is absorbed. There is -certainly refuse of no nutritive value, but it is thin and almost -fluid. Can this be the pitch that cements and stops up the chinks? Why -not? If so, the grub would be building with its excrement; with its -ordure it would be making a pretty home. - -Here we must silence our repugnance. Where would you have the recluse -obtain the material for its casket? Its cell is its world. It knows -nothing beyond that cell; nothing comes to its assistance. It must -perish if it cannot find its store of cement within itself. Various -caterpillars, not rich enough to afford the luxury of a perfect cocoon, -have the knack of felting their hairs with a little silk. The Larinus -grub, that poverty-stricken creature, having no spinning-mill, must -have recourse to its intestine, its only stand-by. - -This stercoral method proves once more that necessity is the mother of -invention. To build a luxurious palace with one’s ordure is a most -meritorious device. Only an insect would be capable of it. For that -matter, the Larinus has no monopoly of this architectural style, which -is not described in Vitruvius, [26] Many other larvæ, better-furnished -with building-materials—those of the Onites, the Onthophagi, [27] the -Cetoniæ, [28] for example—greatly excel it in the beauty of their -excremental edifices. - -When completed, on the approach of the nymphosis, the abode of the -Larinus is an oval cell measuring fifteen millimetres in length by ten -in width. [29] Its compact structure almost enables it to resist the -pressure of the fingers. Its main diameter runs parallel with the axis -of the thistle-head. When, as is not unusual, three cells are grouped -on the same support, the whole is not unlike the fruit of the -castor-oil-plant, with its three shaggy husks. - -The outer wall of the cell is a rustic bristle of chips and hairy -débris and above all of whole florets, faded and yellow, torn from -their base and pushed out of place while retaining their natural -arrangement. In the thickness of the wall the cement predominates. The -inner wall is polished, washed with a red-brown lacquer and sprinkled -with an incrustation of ligneous fragments. Lastly, the pitch is of -excellent quality. It makes a solid wall of the work; and, moreover, it -is impervious to moisture: when immersed in water, the cell does not -permit any to pass through to the interior. - -In short, the Larinus’ cell is a comfortable dwelling, endowed, in the -beginning, with the pliancy of soft leather, which allows free scope -for the growing-process; then, thanks to the cement, it hardens into a -shell permitting the peaceful somnolence of the transformation. The -flexible tent of the early days becomes a stout manor-house. - -Here, I told myself, the adult would pass the winter, protected against -the damp, which is more to be dreaded than the cold. I was wrong. By -the end of September most of the cells are empty, though their support, -the blue thistle, eager to open its last blooms, is still in fairly -good condition. The Weevils have gone, in all the freshness of their -flowered costume; they have broken out through the top of their cells, -which now gape like broken pitchers. A few loiterers still lag behind -at home, but are quite ready to make off, judging by their agility when -my curiosity chances to set them free. - -When the inclement months of December and January have arrived, I no -longer find a single cell inhabited. The whole population has migrated. -Where has it taken refuge? - -I am not quite sure. Perhaps in the heaps of broken stones, under cover -of the dead leaves, in the shelter of the tufts of grass that grow -beneath the hawthorn in the hedges. For a Weevil the country-side is -full of winter-resorts. We need not be anxious about the emigrants; -they are well able to look after themselves. - -None the less, in the face of this exodus, my first impression is one -of surprise. To leave such an excellent lodging for a casual shelter, -of doubtful safety, seems to me a rash and ill-advised expedient. Can -the insect be lacking in prudence? No; it has serious motives for -decamping as quickly as possible when the autumn draws to an end. Let -me explain matters. - -In the winter the echinops is a brown ruin which the north-wind tears -from its hold, flings on the ground and reduces to tatters by rolling -it in the mud of the roads. A few days of bad weather turn the handsome -blue thistle into a mass of lamentable decay. - -What would become of the Weevil on this support, now the plaything of -the winds? Would her tarred cask resist the assaults of the storm? -Would she survive rolling over the rough soil and prolonged steeping in -the puddles of melted snow? - -The Weevils foreknow the dangers of a crazy support; warned by the -almanac of instinct, they foresee the winter and its miseries. So they -move house while there is yet time; they leave their cells for a stable -shelter where they will no longer have to fear the vicissitudes of a -dwelling blown along the ground at random. - -The desertion of the casket is not a sign of rash haste on the part of -the Larinus: it shows a clear perception of coming events. In fact, a -second Larinus will teach us presently that, when the support is safe -and solidly rooted in the ground, the natal cell is not deserted until -the return of the fine weather. - -In conclusion, I ought perhaps to mention an apparently insignificant, -but very exceptional fact, which I have only once observed in my -dealings with the Spotted Larinus. Considering the scarcity of -authentic data as to what becomes of instinct when the conditions of -life are altered, we should do wrong to neglect these trifling -discoveries. - -Making ample allowance for anatomy, a precious aid, what do we know of -animals? Next to nothing. Instead of inflating cabbalistic bladders -with this nothing, let us collect well-observed facts, however humble. -From a sheaf of such facts a clear, calm light may shine forth one day, -a light far preferable to the fireworks of theories which dazzle us for -a moment only to leave us in blacker darkness. - -Here is this little detail. By some accident an egg has fallen from the -blue globe, its regular lodging, into the axilla of a leaf half-way up -the stem. We can even admit, if we choose, that the mother, either by -inadvertence or by intention, laid it at this point herself. What will -become of the egg under such conditions, so far removed from the rules? -What I have before my eyes tell us. - -The grub, faithful to custom, has not failed to broach the stem of the -thistle, which allows the nourishing moisture to ooze from the wound. -As a defence it has built itself a pitcher similar in shape and size to -that which it would have obtained in the thistle-head. This novel -edifice lacks only one thing: the roof of dead florets bristling on the -customary hut. - -The builder has contrived to do very well without its floral pantiles. -It has made use of the base of the leaf, one lobe of which is involved, -as a support, in the wall of the cell; and from both leaf and stalk it -has taken the ligneous particles which it had to imbed in the cement. -In short, except that it is bare instead of surrounded with a palisade, -the fabric adhering to the stalk does not differ from that hidden -beneath the withered florets of the thistle-head. - -People set great store by environment as a modifying agent. Well, here -we see this famous environment at work. An insect is placed as much out -of its element as it can be, but without leaving the food-plant, which -would inevitably be the end of it. Instead of a ball of close-packed -flowers it has for its workshop the open axilla of a leaf; instead of -hairs—a soft fleece easily shorn off—it has for its materials the -fierce teeth of the thistle. And these profound changes leave the -builder’s talents unperturbed; the house is built according to the -usual plans. - -I agree that I have not allowed for the influence of the centuries. But -what would this influence bring about? It is not very clear. The Weevil -born in an unusual place retains no trace of the accident that has -happened. I extract the adult from his exceptional cell. He does not -differ, even in size, a not very important characteristic, from the -Larini born in the regular cell. He has thriven on the axilla of the -leaf as he would have done on the thistle-head. - -Let us admit that the accident is repeated, that it even becomes a -normal condition; let us suppose that the mother decides to abandon her -blue balls and to confide her eggs to the axillæ of the leaves -indefinitely. What will this change bring about? The answer is obvious. - -Since the grub has once developed without hindrance on a site alien to -its habits, it will continue to thrive there from generation to -generation; with its intestinal cement it will continue to shape a -protective pitcher of the same pattern as the old, but, for want of -materials, lacking the thatch of withered florets; in short, its -talents will remain what they were in the beginning. - -This example tells us that the insect, as long as it can accommodate -itself to the novel conditions imposed upon it, works in its accustomed -fashion; if it cannot do so, it dies rather than change its methods. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE BEAR LARINUS - - -I sally forth in the night, with a lantern, to spy out the land. Around -me, a circle of faint light enables me to recognize the broad masses -fairly well, but leaves the fine details unperceived. At a few paces’ -distance, the modest illumination disperses, dies away. Farther off -still, everything is pitch-dark. The lantern shows me—and but very -indistinctly—just one of the innumerable pieces that compose the mosaic -of the ground. - -To see some more of them, I move on. Each time there is the same narrow -circle, of doubtful visibility. By what laws are these points, -inspected one by one, correlated in the general picture? The candle-end -cannot tell me; I should need the light of the sun. - -Science too proceeds by lantern-flashes; it explores nature’s -inexhaustible mosaic piece by piece. Too often the wick lacks oil; the -glass panes of the lantern may not be clean. No matter: his work is not -in vain who first recognizes and shows to others one speck of the vast -unknown. - -However far our ray of light may penetrate, the illuminated circle is -checked on every side by the barrier of the darkness. Hemmed in by the -unfathomable depths of the unknown, let us be satisfied if it be -vouchsafed to us to enlarge by a span the narrow domain of the known. -Seekers, all of us, tormented by the desire for knowledge, let us move -our lantern from point to point: with the particles explored we shall -perhaps be able to piece together a fragment of the picture. - -To-day the shifting of the lantern’s rays leads us to the Bear Larinus -(L. ursus, Fabr.), the exploiter of the carline thistles. We must not -let this inappropriate name of Bear give us an unfavourable notion of -the insect. It is due to the whim of a nomenclator who, having -exhausted his vocabulary, baffled by the never-ending stream of things -already named, uses the first word that comes to hand. - -Others, more happily inspired, perceiving a vague resemblance between -the sacerdotal ornament, the stole, and the white bands that run down -the Weevil’s back, have proposed the name of Stoled Larinus (L. -stolatus, Gmel.). This term would please me; it gives a very good -picture of the insect. The Bear, making nonsense, has prevailed. So be -it: non nobis tantas componere lites. - -The domain of this Weevil is the corymbed carlina (C. corymbosa, Lin.), -a slender thistle, not devoid of elegance, harsh-looking though it be. -Its heads, with their tough, yellow-varnished spokes, expand into a -fleshy mass, a genuine heart, like an artichoke’s, which is defended by -a hedge of savage folioles broadly welded at the base. It is at the -centre of this palatable heart that the larva is established, always -singly. - -Each has its exclusive demesne, its inviolable ration. When an egg, a -single egg, has been entrusted to the mass of florets, the mother moves -on, to continue elsewhere; and, should some newcomer by mistake take -possession of it, her grub, arriving too late and finding the place -occupied, will die. - -This isolation tells us how the larva feeds. The carlina’s foster-child -cannot live on a clear broth, as does the echinops’; for, if the drops -trickling from a wound were sufficient, there would be victuals for -several here. The blue thistle feeds three or four boarders without any -loss of solid material beyond that resulting from a slight gash. Given -such coy-toothed feeders, the heart of the carline thistle would -support quite as many. - -It is always, on the contrary, the portion of one alone. Thus we -already guess that the grub of the Bear Larinus does not confine itself -to lapping up discharges of sap and that it likewise feeds upon its -artichoke-heart, the standing dish. - -The adult also feeds upon it. On the cone covered with imbricated -folioles it makes spacious excavations in which the sweet milk of the -plant hardens into white beads. But these broken victuals, these cut -cakes off which the Weevil has made her meal, are disdained when the -egg-laying comes into question, in June and July. A choice is then made -of untouched heads, not as yet developed, not yet expanded and still -contracted into prickly globules. The interior will be tenderer than -after they are full-blown. - -The method is the same as that of the Spotted Larinus. With her rostral -gimlet the mother bores a hole through the scales, on a level with the -base of the florets; then, with the aid of her guiding probe, she -installs her opalescent white egg at the bottom of the shaft. A week -later the grub makes its appearance. - -Some time in August let us open the thistle-heads. Their contents are -very diverse. There are larvæ here of all ages; nymphs covered with -reddish ridges, above all on the last segments, twitching violently and -spinning round when disturbed; lastly, perfect insects, not yet adorned -with their stoles and other ornaments of the final costume. We have -before our eyes the means of following the whole development of the -Weevil at the same time. - -The folioles of the blossom, those stout halberds, are welded together -at their base and enclose within their rampart a fleshy mass, with a -flat upper surface and cone-shaped underneath. This is the larder of -the Bear Larinus. - -From the bottom of its cell the new-born grub dives forthwith into this -fleshy mass. It cuts into it deep. Unreservedly, respecting only the -walls, it digs itself, in a couple of weeks, a recess shaped like a -sugar-loaf and prolonged until it touches the stalk. The canopy of this -recess is a dome of florets and hairs forced upwards and held in place -by an adhesive. The artichoke-heart is completely emptied; nothing is -respected save the scaly walls. - -As its isolation led us to expect, the grub of the Bear Larinus -therefore eats solid food. There is, however, nothing to prevent it -from adding to this diet the milky exudations of the sap. - -This fare, in which solid matter predominates, necessarily involves -solid excreta, which are unknown in the inmate of the blue thistle. -What does the hermit of the carline thistle do with them, cooped up in -a narrow cell from which nothing can be shot outside? It employs them -as the other does its viscous drops; it upholsters its cell with them. - -I see it curved into a circle with its mouth applied to the opposite -orifice, carefully collecting the granules as these are evacuated by -the intestinal factory. It is precious stuff, this, very precious; and -the grub will be careful not to lose a scrap of it, for it has naught -else wherewith to plaster its dwelling. - -The dropping seized is therefore placed in position at once, spread -with the tips of the mandibles and compressed with the forehead and -rump. A few waste chips and flakes, a few bits of down are torn from -the uncemented ceiling overhead; and the plasterer incorporates them, -atom by atom, with the still moist putty. - -This gives, as the inmate increases in size, a coat of rough-cast -which, smoothed with meticulous care, lines the whole of the cell. -Together with the natural wall furnished by the prickly rind of the -artichoke, it makes a powerful bastion, far superior, as a defensive -system, to the thatched huts of the Spotted Larinus. - -The plant, moreover, lends itself to protracted residence. It is -slightly built but slow to decay. The winds do not prostrate it in the -mire, supported as it is by brushwood and sturdy grasses, its habitual -environment. When the handsome thistle with the blue spheres has long -been mouldering on the edge of the roads, the carlina, with its -rot-proof base, still stands erect, dead and brown but not dilapidated. -Another excellent quality is this: the scales of its heads contract and -make a roof which the rain has difficulty in penetrating. - -In such a shelter there is no occasion to fear the dangers which make -the Spotted Larinus quit her pitchers at the approach of winter: the -dwelling is securely founded and the cell is dry. The Bear Larinus is -well aware of these advantages; she is careful not to imitate the other -in wintering under the cover of dead leaves and stone-heaps. She does -not stir abroad, assured beforehand of the efficiency of her roof. - -On the roughest days of the year, in January, if the weather permits me -to go out, I open the heads of the carline thistles which I come -across. I always find the Larinus there, in all the freshness of her -striped costume. She is waiting, benumbed, until the warmth and -animation of May return. Then only will she break the dome of her cabin -and go to take part in the festival of spring. - -In majesty of bearing and magnificence of blossom our kitchen-gardens -have nothing superior to the cardoon and its near relative the -artichoke. Their heads grow to double the size of a man’s fist. Outside -are spiral series of imbricated scales which, without being aggressive, -diverge at maturity in the shape of broad, stiff, pointed blades. -Beneath this armament is a fleshy, hemispherical swelling, as big as -half an orange. - -From this rises a serried mass of long white hairs, a sort of fur, than -which a Polar Bear’s is no thicker. Closely surrounded by this hair, -the seeds are crowned with feathers which double the thickness of the -shaggy chevaux de frise. Above this, delighting the eye, blooms the -spreading tuft of flowers, coloured a splendid lapis lazuli, like that -of the cornflower, the joy of the harvest. - -This is the chief domain of a third Larinus (L. scolymi, Oliv.), a big -Weevil, thickset, broad-backed, powdered with yellow ochre. The -cardoon, which provides our table with the fleshy veins of its leaves, -but whose heads are disdained, is the insect’s customary home; but, -should the gardener leave the artichoke a few late heads, these are -accepted by the Larinus as eagerly as the cardoon’s. Under different -names, the two plants are merely horticultural varieties; and the -Weevil, a thorough expert, makes no mistake about it. - -Under the scorching July sun, a cardoon-head exploited by the Larini is -a sight worth seeing. Drunk with heat, busily staggering amid the -thicket of blue florets, they dive with their tails in the air, sinking -and even disappearing into the depths of the shaggy forest. - -What do they do down there? It is not possible to observe them -directly; but a local inspection after the work is finished will tell -us. Between the tufts of hairs, not far from the base, they clear with -the rostrum a place to receive their egg. If they are able to reach a -seed, they rid it of its feathers and cut a shallow cup in it, an -egg-cup as it were. The probe is pushed no farther. The fleshy dome, -the tasty heart which one would at first suppose to be the favourite -morsel, is never attacked by the pregnant mothers. - -As might have been expected, so rich an establishment implies a -numerous population. If the head is a good-sized one, it is not unusual -to find a score or more of table-companions, plump, red-headed grubs, -with fat, glossy backs. There is plenty of room for all. - -For the rest, they are of a very stay-at-home habit. Far from straying -at random over the abundant food-supply, in which they might well -sample the best and pick their mouthfuls, they remain encamped within -the narrow area of the place where they were hatched. Moreover, despite -their corpulence, they are extremely frugal, to such a point that, -excepting the inhabited patches, the floral head retains its full -vigour and ripens its seeds as usual. - -In this blazing summer weather, three or four days are enough for the -hatching. If the young grub is at some distance from the seeds, it -reaches them by slipping along the hairs, a few of which it gathers on -its way. If it is born in contact with a seed, it remains in its native -cup, for the desired point is attained. - -Its food consists, in fact, of the few surrounding seeds, five or six, -hardly more; and even so the greater number are only in part consumed. -True, when it has grown stronger, the larva bites deeper and digs in -the fleshy receptacle a little pit that will serve as the foundation of -its future cell. The waste products of nutrition are pushed backwards, -where they set in a hard lump, held in position by the palisade of the -hairs. - -A modest scale of diet, when all is said: half a dozen unripe seeds and -a few mouthfuls taken from the cake consisting of the receptacle. These -peaceful creatures must derive singular benefit from their food to -acquire such plumpness so cheaply. An undisturbed and temperate diet is -better than an uneasy feast. - -Two or three weeks devoted to these pleasures of the table and our grub -has become a fat baby. Then the blissful consumer becomes a craftsman. -The placid gratification of the belly is followed by the worries of the -future. We have to build ourselves a castle in which to effect the -metamorphosis. - -From all around it the grub collects hairs, which it chops into -fragments of different lengths. It places them in position with the tip -of its mandibles, butts them with its head and presses them by rolling -them with its rump. Without further manipulation this would remain a -crazy protection, constantly collapsing and forcing the recluse to make -continual repairs. But the builder is thoroughly acquainted with the -eccentric ways of its fellow-craftsmen on the echinops; it possesses a -cement-factory in the end of its intestine. - -If I rear it in a glass tube with a piece of its native artichoke, I -see it from time to time curving itself into a ring and gathering with -its teeth a drop of a whitish, sticky substance which the hinder part -of the grub sparingly provides. The glue is instantly spread hither and -thither, swiftly, for it sets quickly. Thus the hairy particles are -bound together and what was flimsy felt becomes a solid fabric. - -When completed, the work is a sort of turret, the base of which is -contained in the little pit of the receptacle, from which the grub -obtained part of its nourishment. The dense mane of untouched hairs -forms a rampart above and at the sides. It is a somewhat clumsy edifice -without, shored up by the adjacent fur; but it is nicely smoothed -within and coated in every part with the intestinal glue, which becomes -a lustrous reddish material, like a shellac varnish. The castle-keep -measures one and a half centimetres in height. [30] - -Towards the end of August most of the recluses are in the perfect -state. Many have even burst the vaulted ceiling of their home; rostrum -in air, they investigate the weather, awaiting the hour of departure. -The cardoon-head by this time is quite dry upon its withered stalk. Let -us strip it of its scales and, with a pair of scissors, clip its fur as -closely as possible. - -The result thus obtained is truly curious. It is a sort of convex -brush, pierced here and there with deep cavities wide enough to admit -an ordinary lead-pencil. The sides consist of a reddish-brown wall -covered with incrustations of hairy débris. Each of these cavities is -the cell of an adult Larinus. At first sight one would take the thing -for the comb of some extraordinary Wasps’-nest. - -Let us mention a fourth member of the same group. This is the Spangled -Larinus (L. conspersus, Sch.), smaller in size than the three foregoing -species and more simply clad. She is sprinkled with small yellow-ochre -spots on a black ground. - -Her most sumptuous establishment, as far as I know, is a majestic -horror to which the botanists have given the very expressive name of -the prickly thistle (Cirsium ferox, D. C.). The moorlands of Provence -have nothing in their flora to equal its proud and menacing aspect. - -In August this fierce-looking plant raises its voluminous white tufts -and with its lofty stature overtops the blue-green clumps of the -lavender, that lover of stony wastes. Spread in a rosette on the level -of the soil, the root-leaves, slashed into two series of narrow strips, -call to mind the backbones of a heap of big fish burnt up by the sun. - -These strips are split into two divergent halves, of which one points -upwards and the other downwards, as though to threaten the passer-by -from every angle. The whole thing, from top to bottom, is a formidable -arsenal, a trophy of prickles, of pointed nails, of arrow-heads sharper -than needles. - -What is the use of this savage panoply? Its discordance with the usual -vegetation accentuates the grace of the plants around it. By striking a -harsh and dissonant note, it contributes to the general harmony. The -haughty thistle is really superb, standing like a monument amidst the -humility of the lavender and thyme. - -Others might see in this thicket of halberds a means of defence. But -what has the fierce thistle to defend, that it should bristle in this -way? Its seed? I doubt, indeed, whether the Goldfinch, the accredited -pilferer of the Carduaceæ, dare set foot on this horrid arsenal. He -would be spitted at once. - -A humble Weevil will do what the bird dares not undertake and will do -it better. She will entrust her eggs to the white tufts; she will -destroy the seed of the ferocious plant, which, were it not subjected -to a severe thinning, would become an agricultural calamity. - -At the beginning of July I cut off a well-flowered thistle-top; I dip -the stem in a bottle full of water and cover my repellent bouquet with -a wire-gauze cover, after stocking it with a dozen Weevils. The pairing -takes place. Soon the mothers dive down among the flowers and -seed-plumes. - -A fortnight later, each head is feeding one to four larvæ, already far -advanced. Things go fast with the Larini: all must be finished before -the thistle-heads wither. September is not over by the time that the -insect has assumed the adult form; but there are still laggards at this -period, represented by nymphs and even by larvæ. - -Built on the same plane as the Artichoke-weevil’s, the dwelling -consists of a sheath having for its base a basin hollowed in the -surface of the receptacle. In either case the architecture is the same; -so is the method of work. A quilt of hairs, borrowed from the -seed-plumes and the mane-like fringe of the receptacle, is heaped -around the grub and cemented with the lacquer of the intestine. - -Outside this downy bed of wadding is spread a further mattress, a layer -of granular excrement. The artist has not thought fit to employ its -digestive refuse to greater advantage. It has something better at its -disposal. Like the other Larini, it is able to turn the sordid sewer -into a valuable glue- and varnish-factory. - -Will this lodging, so softly padded, be its winter home? Not so. In -January I inspect the old thistle-heads; in none of them do I find the -Weevil. The autumnal population has migrated. For this I see a very -good reason. - -The thistle, now dead and bare, an ash-grey ruin, is still standing, is -still holding out against the north-wind, thanks to its strength and -the firmness of its roots; but its flower-heads, emptied by age, are -wide open, exposing their contents to the inclemencies of the weather. -The fleece of the receptacle is a sponge that swells up with the rain -and tenaciously retains the moisture. The same may be said of the -cardoon and the artichoke. - -In either case we no longer find the fortress of the carlina, -encompassed with convergent folioles; what we see is a spacious, -roofless ruin, abandoned to the damp and the cold. The white tuft of -the ferocious thistle and the blue tuft of the artichoke are delightful -villas in summer; in winter they are uninhabitable residences, sweating -mildew. Prudence, the safeguard of the humble, counsels the owners to -forestall the final dilapidation and to move. The advice is accepted. -At the approach of the rains and frosts, both Larini leave the home of -their birth and proceed to take up their winter-quarters elsewhere: -precisely where I do not know. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE BOTANICAL INSTINCT - - -Maternity, when it takes thought for the future, is the most fertile -prompter of instinct. To the maternity that prepares board and lodging -for the family we owe the wonderful achievements of the Dung-beetles -and of the Wasps and Bees. The moment the mother confines herself to -laying eggs and becomes a mere germ-factory, the industrial talents -disappear as useless. - -That bravely-plumed fine lady, the Pine Cockchafer, digs the sandy soil -with the tip of her abdomen and buries herself in it laboriously right -up to her head. Then a bundle of eggs is laid at the bottom of the -excavation; and that is all, once the pit has been filled by means of a -casual sweeping. - -Constantly ridden by her male during the four weeks of July, the mother -Capricorn explores the trunk of the oak at random; she slips her -retractable oviscapt, here, there and everywhere, under the scales of -the cracked bark, probing, feeling, choosing the propitious spots. Each -time an egg is laid, almost without protection. This done, she has no -further anxiety. - -The grub of Cetonia floricola, breaking its shell, some time in August, -in the depths of the leaf-mould, goes to feed on the flowers and there -idly slumbers; then, an adult Rose-chafer, she returns to the heap of -rotten leaves, enters it and sows her eggs in the hottest places, those -where fermentation rages most fiercely. Let us not ask anything further -from her: her talents end with this. - -So it is, in the vast majority of cases, with the other insects, weak -or powerful, lowly or splendid. They all know where the eggs must be -established, but they are profoundly indifferent to what will follow. -It is for the grub to muddle through by its own methods. The Pine -Cockchafer’s larva dives farther into the sand, seeking for tender -rootlets softened by incipient decay. The Capricorn’s, continuing to -drag the shell of its egg behind it, nibbles the uneatable for its -first mouthful, making flour of the dead bark and sinking a shaft that -leads it to the wood, on which it feeds for the next three years. The -Cetonia’s, born in a heap of decomposed vegetable matter, has its food -ready to its mouth, without seeking. - -With such primitive habits as these, which emancipate the family at -birth, without the least previous training, how far removed are we from -the maternal tenderness of the Copris, [31] the Necrophorus, [32] the -Sphex [33] and so many others! Apart from these privileged tribes, -there is nothing very striking to be noted. It is enough to fill with -despair the observer in search of facts really worth recording. - -The children, it is true, often make up to us for their untalented -mothers. Their ingenuity is sometimes amazing, from the time when they -are hatched. Witness our Larini. What can the mother do? Nothing but -bury the eggs in the blossoms of the thistles. But what a singular -industry on the part of the grub which builds itself a thatched hut, -upholsters itself a cabin, cards itself a mattress of chopped hairs, -makes itself a defensive pitcher, a donjon-keep, with the shellac -prepared by its intestine! - -When the transformation is accomplished, what perspicacity on the part -of the inexperienced insect, when it abandons its cosy home to seek a -refuge under the rude shelter of the stones, foreseeing the winter -which will ruin the natal villa! We possess the almanac of the past, -telling us of the almanac of the future. The insect, with no records of -the vicissitudes of the seasons; the insect, born in the dog-days, in -the blazing heat of summer: the insect feels instinctively that this -period of solar intoxication will not last; it knows, though it has -never seen it happen, that its house is doomed soon to collapse; and it -makes off before the roof falls in. - -For a Weevil, this is fine, magnificent. We might well envy the -creature’s wisdom in being thus awake to the calamities of the future. - -However devoid of industry she may be, the least-gifted mother none the -less submits an insoluble problem for our consideration. What is it -that leads her to lay her eggs at spots where the larvæ will find food -to their liking? - -The Pieris [34] goes to the cabbage, in which she has no personal -interest. The plant, compressed into a head, has not yet flowered. -Besides, its modest yellow blossoms have no greater attraction for the -Butterfly than an infinity of other flowers distributed broadcast. The -Vanessa [35] goes to the nettle, on which her caterpillars will feast, -but on which the adult insect finds nothing to suck. - -When, in the summer gloaming, the Pine Cockchafer has long been -whirling in the nuptial ballet around her favourite tree, she refreshes -herself after her fatigue by nibbling a few pine-needles; then, with -impetuous flight, she goes in search of some bare, sandy tract where -the grass-roots lie decaying. Here, as often as not, there is no -resinous aroma, there are no more pine-trees, the delight of the plumed -beauty; and it is in this place, where nothing appeals to her own -needs, that the mother, half-buried in the ground, will lay her egg. - -That ardent lover of roses and hawthorn-blossom, the Golden Cetonia, -leaves the luxury of the flowers, to burrow in the shame of -putrescence. She repairs to the compost-heap, but is certainly not -tempted by any dish to her taste. She cannot sip honey there nor -intoxicate herself with perfumed essences. Another reason draws her to -this corruption. - -At first sight it would seem as if these strange instincts might be -explained by the larva’s diet, of which the adult would retain a lively -recollection. The caterpillar of the Pieris fed on cabbage-leaves; the -caterpillar of the Vanessa fed on nettle-leaves; and each of the two -Butterflies, endowed with a faithful memory, exploits the plant which -has no attraction for her now, but which was a treat for her in her -infancy. - -In the same way, the Cetonia dives into the heap of leaf-mould because -she remembers the feasts of former days, when she was a grub in the -midst of the fermenting vegetable matter; and the Pine Cockchafer seeks -the sandy tracts covered with lean tufts of grass, because she -remembers her youthful revels underground amid the decaying rootlets. - -Such a memory would be almost admissible if the adult’s diet were the -same as the larva’s. We can more or less understand the Dung-beetle, -who, herself feeding upon animal droppings, makes them into canned -provisions for her family. The diet of maturity and that of infancy are -linked as though each were a reminiscence of the other. Uniformity -offers a very simple solution of the food-problem. - -But what shall we say of the Cetonia passing from the flowers to the -sordid refuse of the decayed leaves? Above all, what shall we say of -the Hunting Wasps? These fill their own crops with honey and feed their -youngsters on prey! - -By what inconceivable inspiration does the Cerceris [36] leave the -refreshment-bar of the blossoms, dripping with nectar, to go a-hunting -and to slay the Weevil, the game destined for her offspring? How are we -to explain the Sphex, who, having refreshed herself at the sugar-works -of the field eringo, suddenly flies off, eager to stab the Cricket, the -food of her grub? - -It is a matter of memory, some will make haste to reply. - -Ah no! Please do not speak of memory here; do not appeal to the belly’s -powers of reminiscence! Man is fairly well endowed with mnemonic -aptitudes. Yet which of us has retained the least recollection of his -mother’s milk? If we had never seen a babe at the breast, we could -never suspect that we began life in the same fashion. - -This food of earliest infancy is not remembered; it is certified only -by example, as by that of the Lamb, which, with bended knees and -frisking tail, sucks at the udder and butts it with its head. No, the -mouthfuls of mother’s milk have left not a trace in the mind. - -And you would have it that the insect, after a transformation that has -changed it entirely, both inside and out, remembers its first diet, -when we ourselves, who are not remoulded in the crucible of a -metamorphosis, remain in the most absolute darkness where ours is -concerned! My credulity will not go to that length. - -How then does the mother, whose diet is different, distinguish what -suits her offspring? I do not know, I never shall know. It is an -inviolable secret. The mother herself does not know. What does the -stomach know of its masterly chemistry? Nothing. What does the heart -know of its wonderful hydraulics? Nothing. The pregnant mother, when -establishing her brood, knows no more. - -And this unconsciousness provides us with an admirable solution of the -difficult problem of victuals. A good example is afforded by the -Weevils whom we have just been considering. They will show us with what -botanical tact the choice of the food-plant is made. - -To entrust the batch of eggs to this or that cluster of florets is not -a matter of indifference. It is indispensable that the florets should -fulfil certain conditions of flavour, stability, hairiness, and other -qualities appreciated by the grub. Its selection, therefore, demands a -nice botanical discrimination which will recognize off-hand the good -and the bad, accept the discovery or reject it. Let us devote a few -lines to these Weevils from the point of view of their botanical -attainments. - -Scorning variety, the Spotted Larinus is a specialist of immovable -convictions. Her domain is the blue ball of the echinops, an exclusive -domain, valueless to the others. She alone appreciates it, she alone -exploits it; and nothing else suits her. - -This particularity, an unchangeable family inheritance, must greatly -facilitate her search. When, on the return of the warm weather, the -insect leaves her hiding-place, which is doubtless not far from the -spot where she was born, she easily finds, on the banks by the -road-side, her favourite plant, which is already tipping its branches -with pale-blue globes. The dear heritage is recognized without -hesitation. She climbs into it, rejoices in her nuptial diversions and -waits for the azure balls to mature to the requisite stage. The blue -thistle is familiar to her though she sees it for the first time. It -was the only one known in the past; it is the only one known in the -present. There is no confusion possible. - -The second Larinus, the Bear, begins to vary her flora to some extent. -I know that she has two establishments: the corymbed carlina in the -plain and the acanthus-leaved carlina on the slopes of Mont Ventoux. -[37] - -To those who stop at the general aspect and do not have recourse to -delicate floral analyses, the two plants have nothing in common. The -countryman, clever though he be at distinguishing one plant from -another, would never think of calling the two by the same generic name. -As for the civilized townsman, unless he be a botanist, don’t speak of -him: his testimony here would be worse than useless. - -The corymbed carlina has a tall, slender stem; thin, sparse leaves; a -bunch of average flowers, with a receptacle less than half the size of -an acorn. The acanthus-leaved carlina spreads, level with the soil, a -large, fierce rosette of broad leaves which in shape is not unlike the -ornament of a Corinthian capital. There is no stem. In the centre of -the leaf-cluster is a flower, one only, but a giant, big as a man’s -fist. - -The people of Mont Ventoux call this magnificent thistle the ‘mountain -artichoke.’ They gather it and use the base of the flower in making -omelettes not devoid of merit; this base is very fleshy, is saturated -in milk with a nutty flavour and is delicious even when raw. - -Sometimes they use the plant as an hygrometer. Nailed to the lintel of -the byre, the carlina closes its flower when the air is moist and opens -it in a superb sun of golden scales when the air is dry. With beauty -added, it is the inverse equivalent of the celebrated rose of Jericho, -an unsightly bundle which expands in wet and shrivels in dry weather. -If the rustic hygrometer were a foreigner, it would be famous; being an -ordinary product of Mont Ventoux, it is slighted. - -The Larinus, for her part, knows it very well, not as a meteorological -apparatus, a very useless thing to her for foretelling the weather, but -as provender for her family. Many a time, on my excursions in July and -August, I have seen the Bear Weevil very busy on the mountain artichoke -wide open in the sun. There is no doubt what she was doing there: she -was attending to her eggs. - -I regret that my then preoccupations, which were concerned with botany, -did not permit me to observe the mother’s methods more closely. Does -she lay several eggs in this rich morsel? There is enough to satisfy a -numerous brood. Or does she lay only one, repeating here what she does -on the corymbed carlina, a middling ration? There is nothing to tell us -that the insect is not to some extent versed in domestic economy and -does not proportion the number of the guests to the abundance of the -provisions. - -If this point is obscure, another and one of greater interest is quite -evident: the Bear Larinus is a clear-sighted botanist. She recognizes -as carlina, the family food, two very dissimilar plants, which none of -us, unless he were an expert, would have thought of grouping together; -she accepts as botanical equivalents the gorgeous rosette, eighteen -inches across, whose spokes lie on the ground, and the shabby-looking -thistle that stands erect and spare. - -The Spangled Larinus extends her domain still farther. Though she has -not the fierce thistle with the white heads, she recognizes the good -qualities of another vegetable horror, one with pink heads this time. -This is the common horse-thistle (Cirsium lanceolatum, Scop.). The -difference in the colour of the flowers causes her no hesitation. - -Can she be apprised by the majestic stature, by the sturdy prickles? -No, for we next see her established on a humble and much less savage -plant, Carduus nigrescens, Vill., which rises hardly more than nine -inches from the ground. - -Can it be the size of the heads that regulates her choice? Not so, -either, for the paltry heads of Carduus tenuiflorus, Cart., are -accepted as readily as the sizable blooms of the above three thistles. - -But the subtle expert is even cleverer than this. Regardless of mien, -foliage, flavour or colour, she actively exploits Kentrophyllum -lanatum, D. C., a plant with wretched yellow flowers soiled by the dust -of the roads. To recognize a Carduacea in this dry and unsightly plant -you have to be a botanist or a Weevil. - -A fourth Larinus (L. scolymi, Oliv.) surpasses the Spangled Larinus. We -find her at work on the garden artichoke and the garden cardoon, both -of them giants that lift their great blue heads to a height of six feet -and more. We meet her afterwards on a niggardly centaury (Centaurea -aspera, Lin.), with ragged heads, smaller than the tip of one’s little -finger, trailing on the ground; we see her founding colonies on the -various thistles beloved of the Spangled Larinus, even on Kentrophyllum -lanatum. Her botanical knowledge of plants so dissimilar gives us food -for reflection. - -As a Weevil, she recognizes very clearly, without resorting to tests, -what is artichoke-heart and what is not, what suits her offspring and -what would harm it; and I, as a naturalist, versed by assiduous -practice in the flora of my district, would not dare, without prudent -inquiries, to bite into this or that fruit or berry were I suddenly -transported to another country. - -She is born with her knowledge; and I have to learn. Every summer, with -superb audacity, she goes from her thistle to various others which, -having no similarity of appearance, ought, one would think, to be -rejected as suspicious hostelries. On the contrary, she accepts them, -recognizes them as her own; and her confidence is never betrayed. - -Her guide is instinct, which instructs her unerringly, within a very -restricted circle; mine is intelligence, which gropes, seeks, goes -astray, finds its way again and ends by soaring with an incomparable -flight. The Larinus knows the flora of the thistles without having -learnt it; man knows the flora of the world after long study. The -domain of instinct is a speck; that of intelligence is the universe. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE ELEPHANT WEEVIL - - -Some of our machines have odd-looking parts which seem inexplicable so -long as they are seen in repose. But wait until the whole is set in -motion, when the uncouth contrivance, with its gear-wheels biting and -its jointed rods opening and closing, will reveal an ingenious -combination wherein everything is cunningly arranged in view of the -effects to be obtained. It is the same with various Weevils, notably -the Balanini, [38] who, as their name tells us, are charged with the -exploitation of acorns, nuts, and other similar fruits. - -The most remarkable in my part of the country is the Elephant Weevil, -or Acorn-weevil (Balaninus elephas, Sch.). What a well-named insect! -Its title is a picture in itself. It is a living caricature, with its -prodigious pipe-stem, no thicker than a horse-hair, reddish, almost -straight and so long that the insect is obliged to carry it extended -like a lance at rest, lest it should stumble, hampered by its -instrument. What does it do with this enormous pike, with this -ridiculous nose? - -Here I see some shrugging their shoulders. In fact, if the sole object -of life is to make money by hook or by crook, such queries are sheer -madness. Happily there are others to whom nothing in the majestic -problem of things is trivial. They know of what humble dough the bread -of thought is kneaded, a bread no less necessary than that made from -wheat; they know that husbandmen and inquirers alike feed the world -with an accumulation of minute fragments. - -Let us take pity on the question and proceed. Without seeing it at -work, we already suspect the Weevil’s paradoxical beak of being a drill -similar to those which we employ to bore through the hardest -substances. Two diamond-points, the mandibles, form its terminal bit. -Like the Larini, but under conditions of greater difficulty, the Weevil -must use it to prepare the way for installing the egg. - -But suspicion, however well-founded, is not certainty. I shall not know -the secret unless and until I witness the performance. - -Chance, the servant of those who solicit her patiently, procures me a -meeting with the Acorn-weevil at work in the first fortnight of -October. My surprise is great, for at this late period all industrial -activity as a rule is at an end. The entomological season closes with -the first touch of cold. - -It happens to be wild weather to-day; an icy north-wind is roaring, -chapping one’s lips. One needs a stout faith to go out on a day like -this to inspect the thickets. Yet, if the Weevil with the long -churchwarden exploits the acorns, as I imagine that she does, now or -never is the time to look into things. The acorns, still green, have -attained their full dimensions. In two or three weeks they will possess -the deep brown of perfect maturity, soon to be followed by their fall. - -My hare-brained excursion gives me a success. On the ilexes I surprise -a Weevil, with her proboscis half-sunk in an acorn. To observe her with -due care is impossible while the branches are being lashed and shaken -by the mistral. I break off the twig and lay it gently on the ground. -The insect takes no notice of its removal and goes on with its job. I -squat down beside it, sheltered from the gale behind a clump of -brushwood, and watch operations. - -Shod with clinging sandals which will enable her later, in my cages, to -scale a perpendicular pane of glass, the Weevil is firmly fixed on the -smooth and sloping curve of the acorn. She is working her drill. Slowly -and awkwardly she moves around her implanted rod, describes a -semicircle whose centre is the perforated point and then, retracing her -steps, describes the semicircle in the reverse direction. And this is -repeated several times over. We do the same when, by an alternating -movement of the wrist, we make a hole in a piece of wood with a -bradawl. - -Little by little the rostrum enters. In an hour’s time it has -disappeared entirely. A brief rest follows. Then at last the instrument -is withdrawn. What will happen next? Nothing more, this time. The -Weevil abandons her shaft and solemnly retires, hiding among the dead -leaves. I shall learn no more to-day. - -But I have been given a hint. On still days, more favourable to my -hunting, I return to the spot and soon have the wherewithal to stock my -cages. Foreseeing serious difficulties because of the slowness of the -work, I prefer to continue my studies indoors, with the unlimited -leisure to be found at home. - -This was an excellent precaution. If I had tried to go on as I had -begun and to observe the Weevil’s actions in the freedom of the woods, -never should I have had the patience to follow to the end the choice of -the acorn, the boring of the hole and the laying of the eggs—even -presuming that my discoveries were propitious—so meticulously -deliberate is the insect in its business, as the reader will presently -be able to judge. - -The copses frequented by my Weevil are composed of three kinds of oaks: -the ilex and the durmast, which would become fine trees if the -woodcutter gave them time, and lastly the kermes-oak, a wretched, -scrubby bush. The first, the most plentiful of the three, is the -Weevil’s favourite. Its acorns are firm, long in shape and moderate in -size; the cup is covered with little warts. Those of the durmast oak -are generally stunted, short, wrinkled and subject to premature falls. -The dryness of the Sérignan hills does not suit them. The Weevil -therefore accepts them only in the absence of something better. - -The humility of the kermes, a dwarf shrub, a truly comic oak, which a -man can step over at a stride, is contrasted by the wealth of its -acorns, which are large, swelling ovoids, set in a cup bristling with -sharp scales. The Weevil could not have a better home. It forms a -strong dwelling and a copious storehouse. - -I place a few sprigs from these three oaks, well-furnished with acorns, -under the dome of my wire-gauze covers, with their ends dipped in a -tumbler of water to keep them fresh; I install a suitable number of -couples; lastly, I stand the cages on the window-sills of my study, -where they get the direct sunlight for the greater part of the day. Let -us now possess our souls in patience and keep a constant watch. We -shall be rewarded. The exploitation of the acorn is worth seeing. - -Things do not drag on so very long. Two days after these preparations, -I arrive at the exact moment when the work begins. The mother, larger -than the male and supplied with a longer drill, is inspecting her -acorn, no doubt in view of the eggs. - -She goes over it step by step, from tip to stem, above and below. -Walking is easy on the wrinkled cup; it would be impracticable on the -rest of the surface if the soles of her feet were not shod with -clinging pattens, with brushes which enable her to keep her balance in -any position. Without tripping or stumbling, therefore, the insect -walks with equal ease, over the top or bottom or up the sides of her -slippery pedestal. - -The choice is made; the acorn is recognized as being of good quality. -The time has come to sink the hole. The rod is difficult to wield, -because of its excessive length. To obtain the best mechanical effect, -the instrument must be held at right angles to the convex surface; and -the cumbrous tool which, out of working-hours, projects in front of the -worker must now be brought under her. - -To achieve this object, the Weevil raises herself on her hind-legs and -stands on the tripod formed by the tip of the wing-cases and of the -hinder tarsi. Nothing could be droller than this strange well-sinker, -standing erect and drawing her nasal rapier towards her. - -The trick is done: the drill is now held plumb. The boring begins. The -method is that which I saw employed in the woods, on the day when the -wind was so strong. Very slowly, the insect veers from right to left -and from left to right alternately. Her tool is not a gimlet, a spiral, -corkscrew-like implement which enters as the result of a rotary -movement always in one direction; it is a trocar which progresses by -successive bites, by eating away now in one direction, now in another. - -Before continuing, let me give room to an accidental fact, which is too -striking to be passed over. On various occasions I have found the -insect dead at its work. The deceased occupies a strange position, -which would give food for laughter if death were not always a serious -event, especially when it comes suddenly, in the midst of toil. The -boring-tool is implanted in the acorn merely by its tip: the work was -just beginning. At the top of the rod, a lethal stake, the Weevil is -suspended in mid-air, at right angles, far from the supporting surface. -She is dried-up, dead since I know not how many days. The legs are -stiff and contracted under the abdomen. Even if they retained the -flexibility and the power of extension which was theirs in life, they -would not be able, by a long way, to reach the support of the acorn. -What has happened then, that the poor wretch should be impaled like an -insect in our collections with a pin stuck through its head? - -What has happened is a workshop-accident. Because of the length of her -bradawl, the Weevil begins by working upright, standing on her -hind-legs. Imagine a slip, a false move of the two clinging grapnels; -and the unskilful Weevil will instantly lose her footing, dragged away -by the elasticity of the probe, which she must have forced slightly and -bent at the start. Thus lifted to some distance from her foothold, she -vainly struggles, hanging in the air; nowhere can her tarsi, those -safety anchors, find anything to grip. She succumbs exhausted at the -top of her stake, for lack of a support whereby to release herself. -Like the workmen in our factories, the Elephant Weevil also is -sometimes the victim of her machinery. Let us wish her good luck and -sure feet, careful not to slip, and continue. - -This time the mechanism works perfectly, but so slowly that the descent -of the drill, even when magnified by the lens, cannot be perceived. And -the insect veers and veers about, rests and again resumes her work. An -hour, two hours pass, of enervating, sustained attention, for I want to -see the action at the exact moment when the Weevil withdraws her probe, -turns round and deposits her egg at the mouth of the well. This at -least is how I foresee events. - -Two hours elapse, exhausting my patience. I make arrangements with my -household. Three of us will relieve one another in turn, keeping an -uninterrupted watch on the obstinate creature, whose secret I must have -at all costs. - -I was well-advised to call in helpers to lend me their eyes and their -attention. After eight hours, eight endless hours, the sentry on the -watch summons me. The insect appears to have finished. It does in fact -step back, it withdraws its drill, carefully, lest it should bend it. -The tool is now outside, once more pointing forwards, in a straight -line. - -This is the moment.... Alas, no! Once again I am cheated: my eight -hours’ watch has led to nothing. The Weevil decamps, abandons the acorn -without making use of her boring. Yes, I was certainly right to -distrust observation in the woods. Such a period of waiting among the -ilexes, under the scorching sun, would have been an unbearable torture. - -All through October, with the aid of helpers when needful, I remark -numerous borings not followed by any laying. The operation varies -greatly in length. Generally it lasts a couple of hours; sometimes it -takes half the day or even more. - -What is the object of these shafts, made at such cost of time and -labour and very often left unstocked? Let us first look for the site -occupied by the egg and forming the grub’s earliest mouthfuls; then -perhaps the reply will come. - -The inhabited acorns remain on the oak, encased in their cups as though -nothing abnormal were happening to injure the seed-lobes. They are -easily recognized with a little attention. Not far from the cup, on the -smooth and still green shells, a little speck shows, just like the -prick of a fine needle. Soon it is surrounded by a narrow brown ring, -the result of mortification. This is the mouth of the hole. At other -times, but less often, the opening is made through the cup itself. - -We will take the acorns recently perforated, that is to say, those with -a pale puncture, not yet surrounded by the brown ring which will appear -in time. Shell them. Several contain no foreign matter: the Weevil has -bored them without laying her eggs in them. These represent the acorns -worked for hours and hours in my cages and not afterwards used. Many -contain an egg. - -Now, however far above the cup the entrance to the pit may be, this egg -is always right at the bottom, at the base of the seed-lobes. There is -here, provided by the cup, a soft, blanket-like layer which imbibes the -sapid exudations from the tip of the peduncle, the source of -nourishment. I see a young grub, hatched before my eyes, nibble as its -first mouthfuls this tender woolly mass, this moist cake flavoured with -tannin. - -This dainty, juicy and easy of digestion, like all nascent organic -matter, is found only at this particular spot; and it is solely here, -between the cup and the base of the seed-lobes, that the Weevil lodges -her egg. The insect knows to a nicety the position of the morsels -best-suited to the feeble stomach of the new-born larva. - -Above this is the comparatively coarse bread of the seed-lobes. -Refreshed by its first meal at the drinking-bar, the grub enters it, -not directly, but through the tunnel opened by the mother’s probe, a -tunnel littered with crumbs, with half-masticated fragments. This light -farinaceous food, prepared in a column of appropriate height, gives -strength; and the grub next penetrates right into the firm substance of -the acorn. - -These facts explain the egg-layer’s tactics. What is her object when, -before proceeding to bore the hole, she inspects her acorn, above, -below, in front and behind, with fastidious care? She is making sure -that the fruit is not already occupied. It is a rich larder, certainly; -nevertheless, there is not enough for two. Never indeed have I found -two larvæ in the same acorn. One only, always one only, digests the -generous morsel and converts it into pale-green flour before leaving it -and descending to the ground. Of the seed-lobe bread, at most an -insignificant crumb remains. The rule is that each grub has its loaf, -each consumer its ration consisting of one acorn. - -Before trusting the egg to the acorn, therefore, it is important to -examine it, to ascertain if it already has an occupant. Now this -occupant, if any, is at the bottom of a crypt, at the base of the -acorn, under the cover of a cup bristling with scales. Nothing could be -more secret than this hiding-place. No eye would suspect the presence -of a recluse if the surface of the acorn did not bear the mark of a -tiny puncture. - -This just visible mark is my guide. Its appearance tells me that the -fruit is inhabited or that it has at least been prepared for the -reception of the egg; its absence assures me that the acorn has not -been appropriated. The Weevil, beyond a doubt, obtains her information -in the same manner. - -I see things from a height, with a comprehensive glance, assisted if -need be by the magnifying-glass. I turn the object for a moment in my -fingers; and my inspection is over. The Weevil, investigating at close -quarters, is obliged to point her microscope more or less everywhere -before detecting the tell-tale speck with certainty. Moreover, the -welfare of her family compels her to make a far more scrupulous search -than that prompted by my curiosity. This is why her examination of the -acorn is so excessively protracted. - -It is done: the acorn is accepted as a good one. The drill is driven in -and kept working for hours; then, very often, the insect goes away, -despising her work. The laying of the egg does not follow on the -boring. What is the object of so great and so long an effort? Can the -Weevil simply be piercing the fruit to satisfy her appetite and obtain -refreshment? Can the reed-like beak go down to the depths of the barrel -to draw, from the likeliest spots, a few mouthfuls of sustaining drink? -Can the enterprise be a matter of personal nourishment? - -I thought so at first, though I was a little surprised at this display -of perseverance in view of a sip. The males taught me to abandon the -idea. They too possess a long rostrum, capable of opening a well if -necessary; nevertheless I never see one standing on an acorn and -working at it with his drill. Why take so much trouble? A mere nothing -satisfies these frugal eaters. A superficial digging with the tip of -the proboscis into the tender leaf yields enough to maintain their -strength. - -If they, the idlers who have leisure to enjoy the delights of the -table, want no more, how will it be with the mothers, busy with the -laying? Have they the time to eat and drink? No, the pierced acorn is -not a bar at which to lounge, sipping without end. That the beak, when -driven into the fruit, levies a small mouthful is possible; but this -scrap is certainly not the object in view. - -I seem to catch a glimpse of the real object. The egg, as we said, is -always at the base of the acorn, in the midst of a sort of wadding -moistened by the sap that oozes from the stalk. At the hatching, the -grub, incapable as yet of tackling the firm substance of the -seed-lobes, chews the delicate felt at the bottom of the cup and feeds -upon its juices. - -But, as the fruit matures, this cake becomes more solid and changes in -flavour and in the consistency of its pulp. What was soft hardens, what -was moist dries up. There is a period during which the conditions -necessary to the new-born grub’s welfare are fulfilled to perfection. -At an earlier stage, things would not have reached the requisite degree -of preparation; later, they would be too ripe. - -Outside, on the green rind of the acorn, there is nothing to show the -progress of this inner cooking. In order not to serve her grub with -noxious food, the mother, inadequately informed by the sight of the -acorn, is therefore obliged first to taste with the tip of her -proboscis what lies at the bottom of the store-room. - -The nurse, before giving baby his spoonful of pap, puts her lips to it -to try it. The mother Weevil in the same way, with no less affection, -dips her probe to the bottom of the basin, to try its contents before -bequeathing them to her son. If the food is considered satisfactory, -the egg is laid; if not, the boring is abandoned without more ado. This -explains the perforations of which no advantage is taken after much -laborious work. The soft bread at the bottom, carefully tested, was not -found to be in the required condition. How particular, how fastidious -are these Weevils, where the first mouthful of the family is concerned! - -To place the egg in a spot where the new-born grub will find light, -juicy, easily-digested food is not enough for these far-seeing mothers. -Their care goes farther. An intermediate diet would be useful, to lead -the little larva from the dainty fare of the first hours to the regimen -of hard bread. This intermediate diet is in the gallery, the work of -the mother’s beak. Here are crumbs, particles bitten off by the shears -of the proboscis. Moreover, the sides of the tunnel, softened by -mortification, are better-suited than the rest to the feeble mandibles -of the novice. - -Before nibbling at the seed-lobes, the grub does in fact embark upon -this tunnel. It feeds on the meal found along the road; it gathers the -discoloured atoms hanging from the walls; and lastly, when strong -enough, it attacks the loaf of the kernel, digs into it and disappears -inside. The stomach is ready. The rest is a blissful feast. - -This tubular nursery must be of a certain length to satisfy the needs -of infancy; and so the mother works her drill accordingly. If the -thrust of the probe were intended solely for sampling the material at -the base of the acorn and examining its degree of maturity, the -operation would be much shorter, since it could be started near that -base, through the cup. This advantage is not unrecognized: I have -happened to surprise the insect working upon the scaly cupule. - -I see in this merely an attempt of the hurried mother to obtain -information. If the acorn suits, the boring will be made over again, -higher up, outside the cup. When the egg is to be laid, the rule, in -fact, is to bore through the acorn itself, as high up as the length of -the tool permits. - -What is the object of this long boring, which is not always finished in -half a day? What is the use of this stubborn perseverance when, near -the stalk, at the cost of much less time and labour, the bradawl would -reach the desired point, the running spring whereat the nascent grub is -to slake its thirst? The mother has her reasons for going to all this -trouble: by so doing she reaches the regular spot, the base of the -acorn, and by this very action—a most valuable result—prepares a long -tube of meal for her son. - -These are all trivialities! Not so, if you please: matters of great -importance rather, telling us of the infinite cares that preside over -the preservation of the least of things and bearing witness to a higher -logic which regulates the smallest details. - -The Weevil, so happily inspired as a breeder, has her place in the -world and is worthy of consideration. So at least thinks the Blackbird, -who gladly makes a meal of the long-beaked insect when the berries -begin to run short at the end of autumn. It is a small mouthful but a -tasty one; and it makes a pleasant change after the bitterness of the -olive that still resists the cold. - -And what were the reawakening of the woods in spring, without the -Blackbird and his rivals! Were man to disappear, annihilated by his own -follies, the springtide festival would be no less solemnly celebrated -by the Blackbird’s triumphant fluting. - -To the most deserving part played in feasting the bird, the minstrel of -the forests, the Weevil adds another, that of moderating the amount of -vegetable lumber. Like all the mighty really worthy of their power, the -oak is generous: it yields acorns by the bushel. What could the earth -do with this abundance? The forest itself would be stifled for lack of -space; excess would ruin the essential. - -But, as soon as victuals are plentiful, there comes from every side a -rush of consumers only too eager to reduce the headlong production. The -Field-mouse, a native, hoards acorns in a stone-heap, near her hay -mattress. A stranger, the Jay, arrives from a distance, in flocks, -apprised I know not how. For some weeks he flies feasting from oak to -oak, giving vent to his joys and his emotions by screeching like a -strangled Cat; then, having fulfilled his mission, he goes back to the -north whence he came. - -The Weevil has been beforehand with them all. She confided her eggs to -the acorns while these were still green. They are now lying on the -ground, brown before their time and pierced with a round hole through -which the larva has escaped after consuming the contents. It would be -easy under a single oak to fill a basket with these empty ruins. The -Weevil has done more than the Jay and more than the Field-mouse to get -rid of the superfluity. - -Soon man arrives, thinking of his pigs. In my village it is a great -event when the public crier announces the opening day for gathering -acorns in the common woods. The more zealous inspect the ground on the -eve, in order to select a good place. Next morning, at peep of day, the -whole family is there. The father beats the higher branches with a -pole; the mother, wearing a large canvas apron which allows her to -force her way through the thickets, gathers from the tree all that her -hand can reach; the children pick up what lies on the ground. And the -baskets are filled, followed by the hampers and the sacks. - -After the glee of the Field-mouse, the Jay, the Weevil and so many -others, here comes that of man, calculating how much bacon his harvest -will bring him. One regret mingles with the rejoicings, that is to see -so many acorns scattered on the ground, pierced, spoilt, good for -nothing. Man inveighs against the author of the damage. To listen to -him, you would think that the forest were his alone and that the oaks -bore fruit only for his Pig. - -‘My friend,’ I would say to him, ‘the forest-ranger can’t summon the -delinquent and this is just as well, for our self-seeking, which is -inclined to look upon the acorn-crop only in the light of a string of -sausages, would lead to tiresome results. The oak invites the whole -world to enjoy its fruits. We take the biggest share, because we are -the strongest. That is only our right.... But what ranks ever so much -higher is a fair division among the various consumers, great and small, -all of whom play their part in this world. If it is well that the -Blackbird should whistle and gladden the burgeoning of the spring, then -let us not take it ill that the acorns are rotten. For here the -Blackbird’s dessert is prepared, the Weevil, a dainty mouthful that -lends fat to his rump and music to his throat.’ - -Let us leave the Blackbird to sing and hark back to the Weevil’s egg. -We know where it is: at the base of the acorn, in the tenderest and -juiciest part of the fruit. How did it get there, so far from the -entrance, which is situated above the edge of the cup. A very small -question, it is true, even puerile, if you will. Let us not despise it: -science is built up of puerilities. - -The first man to rub a piece of amber on his sleeve and thereupon to -discover that the piece aforesaid attracted bits of straw certainly did -not suspect the electric wonders of our day. He was amusing himself in -his artless fashion. When repeated and tested in every conceivable -manner, this child’s plaything became one of the forces of the world. - -The observer must neglect nothing: he never knows what the humblest -fact may bring forth. I therefore repeat the question: by what means -was the Weevil’s egg placed so far from the entrance? - -To any one who was not yet aware of the position of the egg, but who -knew that the grub attacks the base of the acorn first, the reply would -appear to be as follows: the egg is laid at the entrance of the tunnel, -on the surface; and the grub, crawling along the gallery dug by the -mother, of its own accord reaches the point where its infant’s-food -exists. - -At first, before I possessed adequate particulars, this explanation was -also my own; but the mistake was soon dispelled. I pluck the acorn when -the mother withdraws after for an instant applying the tip of her -abdomen to the orifice of the tunnel which her rostrum has just bored. -The egg, so it seems, must be there, at the entrance, close to the -surface.... But not at all: it is not there; it is at the other end of -the passage! If I dared to take the liberty, I should say that it has -gone down it as a stone falls to the bottom of a well. - -We must hasten to abandon this silly notion: the tunnel is infinitely -narrow and blocked with shavings, so that any such descent would be -impossible. Besides, according to the direction of the stalk, which may -be either downwards or upwards, a fall in one acorn would mean an -ascent in another. - -A second, no less risky explanation suggests itself. You say to -yourself: - -‘The Cuckoo lays her egg in the grass, anywhere; she picks it up in her -beak and goes and places it as it is in the Warbler’s narrow nest.’ - -Can the Weevil adopt a similar method? Can she use her rostrum to push -her egg to the base of the acorn? I cannot see that the insect has any -other implement capable of reaching this remote hiding-place. - -And yet we must hastily reject this quaint explanation as a despairing -resource. Never does the Weevil lay her egg in the open and then take -it in her beak. If she did, the delicate germ would infallibly perish, -destroyed in the attempt to push it down a narrow, half-choked passage. - -My perplexity is great; and it will be shared by any of my readers who -are acquainted with the Weevil’s structure. The Grasshopper owns a -sabre, a laying-tool which sinks into the ground and sows the eggs at -the requisite depth; [39] the Leucospis is endowed with a probe which -makes its way through the Chalicodoma’s [40] masonry and slips the egg -into the cocoon of the fat, sleepy larva; but this Weevil of ours has -none of these rapiers, daggers or larding-pins; she has nothing at the -tip of her abdomen, absolutely nothing. And yet she has but to apply -that tip to the narrow opening of the well for the egg to be lodged, -forthwith, at the very bottom. - -Anatomy will supply the key to the riddle, which is otherwise -undecipherable. I open the mother’s abdomen. What meets my eyes -astounds me. There is here, occupying the whole length of the body, an -extraordinary piece of mechanism, a stiff, red, horny rod, I was almost -saying a rostrum, so closely does it resemble that of the head. It is a -tube, slender as a horse-hair, widening slightly like a blunderbuss at -the free end and swollen like an egg-shaped capsule at the base. - -This is the laying-tool, equalling the bradawl in length. As far as the -perforating beak reaches, so far can the egg-probe reach, that inner -beak. When working upon her acorn, the Weevil chooses the point of -attack so that the two complementary instruments can both reach the -desired point, the base of the fruit. - -The rest now stands self-explained. When the work of drilling is -finished and the gallery ready, the mother turns round and places the -tip of her abdomen over the entrance. She unsheathes and protrudes her -internal mechanism, which readily sinks through the loose shavings. No -sign appears of the directing probe, so quickly and discreetly does it -work; no sign appears either when, after the egg has been placed in -position, the instrument goes up again and gradually slips back into -the abdomen. It is over; the mother departs and we have seen none of -her little secrets. - -Was I not right to persist? An apparently insignificant fact has told -me definitely what the Larini had already led me to suspect. The -long-beaked Weevils have an inner probe, an abdominal rostrum, which no -outward sign betrays; they possess, hidden away in their belly, the -counterpart of the Grasshopper’s sabre and of the Ichneumon-fly’s -larding-pin. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE NUT-WEEVIL - - -If a peaceful home, a good stomach and a secure livelihood are enough -to bring happiness, then the Nut-weevil is truly a happy creature, more -so even than the famous Rat who retired into a Dutch cheese. The hermit -of the fabulist [41] had kept up certain relations with the world, the -source of all his troubles. One day, a deputation from the Rat folk -came to ask him for a trifling alms. The recluse listened to their -complaints with an unwilling ear; he told them that he could not help -them, promised to pray for them and shut the door without further ado. - -Hard though he was upon the needs of others, this visit of famished -beggars must have disturbed his digestion somewhat: history does not -tell us so, but we are at liberty to believe it. The hermit of the -naturalist is not subject to these annoyances. Its dwelling is an -inviolable cell, a coffer made all in one piece, with neither door nor -wicket for distressed bores to come knocking at. Within is absolute -quiet, nothing enters of the sounds or cares of the outer world. An -excellent lodging, neither too hot nor too cold, peaceful and closed to -all. An excellent table, besides, and a sumptuous. What more could any -one ask for? The smug inmate waxes big and fat. - -We all know the rascal. Which of us, when a boy, cracking a hazel-nut -with his strong teeth, has not bitten into something acrid and sticky? -Ugh! It’s the nut-maggot! Let us conquer our repugnance and examine the -creature closely. It is worth the trouble. - -We see a plump and lusty grub bent into a bow, legless and milk-white, -except the head, which is capped with a yellowish horn. When taken from -its cell and laid on the table, the thing wriggles about, coiling and -uncoiling and fidgeting without contriving to shift its place. It is -denied the power of locomotion. What would the worm do with that power, -boxed up as it is? For that matter, this is a feature common to the -Weevil tribe, all of whom are inveterate stay-at-homes in their larval -stage. Such is the hermit whose history follows below, the anchorite -with the sleek and rounded rump, the larva of the Nut-weevil (Balaninus -nucum, Lin.). - -The kernel of the hazel-nut is its cake, an abundant provision, which -it never or but very seldom finishes entirely, so greatly do the -victuals exceed the utmost requirements of obesity. There is plenty to -enable one alone to live comfortably for three or four weeks; but it -would mean short commons for two. And so the victuals are scrupulously -rationed: to each nut its grub, no more. - -I have happened on very rare occasions to find two. The late-comer, the -offspring of some ill-informed mother, had seated itself at table -beside the other, without much profit to itself. There was not much -left of the cake; moreover, the still feeble intruder seemed to have -had a bad reception from the powerful and jealous owner of the -property. There was no doubt about it: the superfluous weakling was -doomed to perish. The Weevil knows no more of mutual aid among kinsmen -than the Rat in the cheese. Each for himself: such is the savage and -bestial law, even in a nutshell. - -The dwelling is a perfectly continuous fortification, without a joint -or fissure for an invader to slip through. The walnut-tree forms the -shell of its fruit out of two halves joined together, with a line of -least resistance left between them; the hazel makes its kegs with a -single stave, curved into an arch that is equally strong at all points. -How did the grub of the Balaninus obtain access to this fortress? - -On the surface, smooth as polished marble, the eye perceives nothing to -explain the entrance of an exploiter from without. One can picture the -surprise and the artless imaginings of those who first remarked the -peculiar contents of the intact nut, without any sort of opening to it. -The plump maggot, living inside it, could not be an alien. It was -therefore born of the fruit itself, under the influence of an unlucky -moon. It was a child of putrefaction hatched by a mist. - -A faithful custodian of the ancient beliefs, the peasant of to-day -always attributes maggoty nuts and other fruits spoiled by insects to -the moon and a passing miasma. And this will be so indefinitely, until -our country schools yield the place of honour to cheerful, invigorating -studies in the fields. - -Let us replace these inanities by the reality. The grub is certainly an -outsider, an invader; and, if it has made its way in, this is because -it has found a passage somewhere. Let us look for this passage, which -escaped us at the first examination, with the aid of a -magnifying-glass. - -The search does not take long. The base of the nut displays a wide, -rough, light-coloured depression, to which the cup was fastened. On the -confines of this area, a little way outside it, is a darker speck. Thus -is the entrance to the stronghold; this is the key to the riddle. - -The rest follows without further inquiry and is very clearly -interpreted by the data provided by the Elephant Weevil. The Nut-weevil -also bears a buccal drill, still inordinately long, but this time -slightly curved. - -I can well imagine the insect, like its relative of the acorns, -standing erect on the tripod formed by the tip of its wing-covers and -the hinder tarsi; it assumes a posture worthy of portrayal by a -fantastic pencil; it plants its instrument perpendicularly; it -patiently veers and veers again. - -The work is arduous, very arduous, for the nut is selected when nearly -ripe, to provide the grub with more savoury and more abundant food; it -is thick and tough, much more so than the rind of an acorn. If the -Acorn-weevil takes half a day to bore her passage, how long must the -Nut-weevil’s task be, how patient her persistence! Perhaps her rod is -specially hardened. We can temper our drills till they wear away -granite; no doubt the Weevil, in the same way, provides her boring-tool -with a bit of triple hardness. - -Quickly or slowly, the auger sinks into the base of the nut, where the -tissues are softer and milkier; it enters obliquely, making a fairly -long journey, to prepare for the grub a column of semolina suited to -its first needs. Whether boring into nuts or into acorns, the Balanini -make the same delicate preparations for the benefit of their offspring. - -At length there comes the placing of the egg, right at the bottom of -the shaft. Here the strange method which we already know is repeated. -With a hinder rostrum, equal in length to the front one and kept hidden -away in the abdomen until the moment comes for using it, the mother -inserts her egg at the base of the kernel. - -I see these nursery precautions only in my mind’s eye, but I see them -very clearly, enlightened as I am by my examination of the nut -converted into a cradle and above all by the method of the -Acorn-weevil. Still, I might aim at something better than this; I -should like to witness the operation: rather a hopeless ambition, I -fear. - -In my neighbourhood, indeed, the hazel is scarce and its regular -exploiter is almost unknown. Nevertheless, let us make the experiment -with the six hazel-trees which I planted in the paddock long ago. First -of all we must stock them accordingly. - -A valley of the Gard, less parched than the Sérignan hills, provides me -with a few couples of the insect. They reach me by post at the end of -April, when the nut, still quite light in colour, soft and flattish, is -beginning to emerge from the cup in which it is sheathed. The kernel is -far from formed; there is just a beginning, a promise of a kernel. - -In the morning, in glorious weather, I put the strangers on the leaves -of my hazels. The journey has not tried them unduly. They look splendid -in their modest drab costume. The moment they are free, they half-open -their wing-cases, spread their wings, fold them again and once again -unfurl them, without taking flight. These are mere muscular exercises, -serving to revive their strength after a long imprisonment. I regard -these sports in the sunlight as a good omen: my colonists will not run -away. - -Meantime the nuts are filling out daily and beginning to tempt and -entice the children. They are within reach of the smallest, who love to -stuff their pockets with them and to crunch them, cracking them between -two stones. They receive express injunctions to keep their hands off -them. This year, for the sake of the Weevils whose history I wish to -learn, the joys of gathering nuts in May will be forbidden. - -What sort of ideas can such a prohibition produce in these ingenuous -minds? If they were of an age to understand me, I would say: - -‘My dears, beware of the great enchantress, Science. If ever one of -you—which Heaven forbid—should allow himself to be beguiled by her, let -him remember my warning: in exchange for the little secrets which she -reveals to us, she demands much graver sacrifices than a handful of -nuts.’ - -The prohibition is understood; the tempting fruit is left almost -untouched. For my part, I inspect the nuts assiduously. All my trouble -is unavailing: I do not succeed in surprising a Balaninus engaged in -her patient task of boring. At the utmost, at sunset, I happen to see -one who, hoisted to her full height, is trying to insert her drill. The -little that I observe teaches me nothing new; the Acorn-weevil has -already shown me as much. - -In any case, it is only a brief attempt. The insect is casting about -and has not yet found what suits her. Perhaps the perforator of -hazel-nuts works at night. - -In another respect I have been more fortunate. Some nuts, some of the -first colonized, are laid by in my study and subjected to frequent -inspections. My diligence is rewarded with success. - -At the beginning of August, two larvæ leave their coffers before my -eyes. They have no doubt long been chipping with the points of their -mandibles, that patient chisel, at the hard wall. The exit-hole is just -finished when I take note of the coming departure. A fine dust is -falling by way of shavings. - -The window of release is distinct from the narrow aperture of the -entrance. Perhaps it will not do to obstruct this grating, which -ventilates the house, while the grub is still at work. The window -aforesaid is situated at the base of the fruit, close to the rough -surface by which the nut adheres to its cupule. In this region, where -the incipient materials are elaborated until the nut is perfectly ripe, -the density is a little less than elsewhere. The point to be perforated -is excellently chosen therefore: it is here that the least resistance -will be encountered. - -Without any preliminary auscultation, without exploratory soundings, -the recluse knows the weak point of his prison. Confident of success, -he works away with a will. Where the first blow of the pick is struck -the others follow; no time is wasted on experiments. Persistence is the -strength of the weak. - -It is done: daylight enters the coffer. The window is opened, round, -widening a little inwards and carefully polished over the whole -circumference of its embrasure. Under the burnisher of the mandibles -any roughness that might presently increase the difficulty of the -emergence has disappeared. The holes in our steel draw-plates are -scarcely more accurate. - -The comparison with a draw-plate comes in quite aptly here: the larva -actually frees itself by a wire-drawing-operation. Like a length of -brass wire which is reduced by being passed through an orifice too -narrow for its diameter, it escapes through the window in the shell by -decreasing its girth. The wire is drawn by an exertion on the part of -the workman’s pincers or by the rotation of the machine; it -subsequently retains the reduced thickness which the operation has -given it. The grub knows another method: it lengthens and thins itself -by its own efforts; and, directly it has passed through the narrow -orifice, it returns to its natural size. Apart from these differences -the resemblance is striking. - -The exit-aperture is precisely the same width as the head, which, being -rigid, with a horny cap, does not lend itself to deformation. Where the -head has passed, the body has to pass, however fat it may be. When the -liberation is completed, it is most surprising to see how bulky a -cylinder, how corpulent a grub has contrived to make its way through -the tiny opening. If we had not witnessed the exodus, we should never -have suspected such a feat of gymnastics. - -The orifice, we were saying, is exactly fitted to the diameter of the -head. Now this inelastic head, by whose size that of the hole has been -calculated, represents at most one-third of the width of the body. How -does a threefold thickness pass through a single calibre? - -Here comes the head, without the least difficulty: it is the pattern to -which the door was built. The neck, a little wider, follows: a slight -contraction frees it. Next comes the turn of the chest and the plump -belly. This is a most arduous operation. The grub has no legs. It has -nothing, neither hooks nor stiff bristles, that might give it a -purchase. It is a soft roly-poly which has, by its own efforts, to -clear the disproportionately narrow passage. - -What happens inside the nut escapes me: it is hidden by the opaque -shell; what I see outside is very simple and tells me of that which -cannot be seen. The creature’s blood rushes from back to front; the -humours of the organism change their position and accumulate in the -part that has already emerged, which swells into a dropsy, attaining -five or six times the diameter of the head. - -In this way a large cushion is formed on the kerb of the well, a girdle -of energy which, by its dilatation and its intrinsic elasticity, -gradually extricates the remaining segments, which are diminished in -volume by the shifting of their fluid contents. - -It is a slow and very laborious business. The grub, in its free part, -bends, draws itself up and sways from side to side. We do the same when -forcing a nail from side to side to extract it from its socket. The -mandibles gape widely, close and gape again, with no intention of -laying hold. These movements represent the yo-heave-hoes with which the -exhausted creature accompanies its efforts, like those of sailors -hauling on a cable. - -‘Yo-heave-ho!’ says the grub; and the sausage rises a peg higher. - -While the extracting pad is swelling and straining every muscle, it is -evident that the part still in the shell is draining itself of its -humours as far as it possibly can, making them flow into the part -released. It is this that makes the wire-drawing action feasible. - -One more effort of leverage from the inflated girdle; one more yawn: - -‘Heave-ho!’ - -That has done the trick. The grub glides over the shell and drops. - -One of the nuts which have just afforded me this sight was gathered on -its branch a few hours before. The grub, then, would have fallen to the -ground from the height of the hazel-bush. Allowing for the proportions, -such a fall would for us mean a terrible crash; for the grub, so -plastic and supple, it is a trifle. It matters little to the larva -whether it tumbles into the world from the top of the bush or whether -it quietly changes its lodgings a little later, when the nut, fallen of -its own ripeness, is lying on the ground. - -Without delay, as soon as free, it explores the soil within a -restricted radius, seeks a point easy to dig, finds it, does a little -spade-work with its jaws, wriggles its rump and buries itself. At no -very great depth a spherical cavity is made by pressing back the dusty -soil. Here the grub will spend the winter and await the resurrection of -the spring. - -Were I so presumptuous as to advise the Balaninus, better-versed than -any one in its business as a Weevil, I should say: - -‘To leave your nut now is an act of folly. Later, when the April -festival is here and the hazels replace their drooping catkins by the -pink pistils of their nascent fruit, well and good; but to-day, in this -time of blazing sunshine, which drives the most gallant workers to -idleness, what is the use of deserting a home in which you can sleep so -comfortably throughout the slack summer season? Where will you find a -better lodging than the shell of a hazel-nut when the autumn rains come -and the winter frosts? In what more peaceful solitude could the -delicate work of the transformation be effected? Besides, the subsoil -is full of dangers. It is damp and cold; its roughness makes it painful -to the touch for a skin as fine as yours. A formidable enemy lurks -there, a cryptogam that implants itself upon any buried larva. In my -jars I have great difficulty in protecting the buried larvæ which I am -trying to rear. Sooner or later white tufts form upon the glass wall, -thread-like fluffs whose lower portion will clasp and drain a poor grub -turned into a scrap of plaster: it is the mycelium of one of the -Sphæriaceæ whose allotted field of exploitation is the bodies of -insects undergoing nymphosis underground. In the nut, a hygienic cell, -free from devastating germs, nothing of the sort is to be feared. Why -leave it?’ - -These arguments the Balaninus meets with a refusal. It shifts its -quarters, and it is right. On the ground, where the nut is lying, it -has reason, to begin with, to dread the Field-mouse, a great hoarder of -nuts. He collects in his stone-heap everything yielded by his nightly -rounds; then, at his leisure, with a patient tooth, he pierces a small -hole in the shell and extracts the kernel. - -The hazel-nut is a welcome find, a savoury morsel. If emptied by the -Weevil, it is only the more valuable: instead of its usual contents it -contains the grub of the Balaninus, a rich saveloy which makes a -pleasant change from a farinaceous diet. So, for fear of the -Field-mouse, we go underground. - -A still more important motive urges this departure. True, it would be -pleasant to sleep in the impregnable castle of the nut-shell; but the -delivery of the future insect has also to be thought of. The larva of -the Capricorn, throwing caution to the winds, leaves the interior of -the oak and comes to the surface, risking the investigations of the -Woodpecker; it runs into danger to prepare an exit for the great horned -Beetle, who could not make his way out unaided. - -A similar precaution is necessary for the Weevil-larva. While -possessing the full strength of its mandibles, without waiting for the -torpor during which the accumulated fats will be remoulded into a new -organism, it pierces the coffer from which the adult would be incapable -of escaping by her own efforts; it comes out and buries itself in the -ground. The future is wisely provided against; from its present -catacomb the adult will be able without hindrance to ascend to the -light of day. - -We were saying that, if the Weevil assumed her final shape in the nut, -she would be incapable of effecting her own release. Yet with her drill -she is very well able to perforate the shell when the egg has to be -installed. Why should she be prevented from doing in the inverse -direction what she is able to perform inwards from without? A little -reflection will show us the tremendous difficulty. - -To place the egg in position, a fine tube, of the thickness of the -drill, is sufficient. To give passage to the solid adult Weevil would -demand a comparatively enormous opening. The material to be pierced is -very hard, so hard that the larva, with the powerful gouges of its -mandibles, bores a hole only just big enough to allow the head to pass. -The rest of the body has to follow by dint of exhausting efforts. - -How could the insect open a sufficiently large door with its delicate -foil, when the far better-equipped grub has so much difficulty in -boring a moderate porthole? Could she not, by making a ring of -perforations, remove a round disk of the requisite size? Strictly -speaking, this would be possible, with a prodigious expenditure of -patience, a quality which insects can hardly be said to lack. - -But here length of time is not enough: the boring-tool is absolutely -unmanageable inside the nut-shell. It is so long that, to implant it at -the point to be drilled, the Weevil, when she works outside, is obliged -to stand erect. For lack of space under the low ceiling of the shell, -this position and the alternate tacking about become impossible. - -However patient she herself may be and however well-armed we suppose -the tip of her drill to be, the Weevil, prevented from employing her -auger by the narrowness of the premises, would perish in her coffer. -She would die a victim to her inordinate machinery, which serves -excellently well for pushing the egg into place, but which would be -very unwieldy if the prisoner had to effect her own delivery. - -Given a less exaggerated rostrum, just a short and powerful punch, the -Weevil, methinks, would not abandon the nut while she was still in the -larva stage, the danger of the Field-mouse notwithstanding. It is a -delightful laboratory for the remodelling-process of the metamorphosis. -The shell, it is true, lies on the surface of the soil, unsheltered and -exposed to the north-wind. But what does the cold matter, provided that -we keep dry? The insect has little to fear from the frosts. Its -slumbers are all the sweeter when the torpor attending the renewal of -its being is increased by the torpor due to a low temperature. - -I am persuaded of it: if she carried a less cumbersome drill, the -Balaninus would not change her quarters the moment the kernel of her -hazel-nut was consumed. My conviction is based on the habits of other -Weevils, in particular Gymnetron thapsicola, Germ., who exploits the -capsules of a mullein, Verbascum thapsus, Lin., the shepherd’s club, a -frequent denizen of the tilled fields. As cells these capsules are, -though less in volume, almost the equivalent of the hazel-nut. - -They consist of strong shells, formed of two pieces closely joined, -with no communication whatever with the outside world. A Weevil of -humble size and modest attire takes possession of them in May and June -as lodgings for her larvæ, which gnaw the placenta of the fruit, laden -with unripe seeds. - -In August the plant is withered, scorched by the sun, but still -standing and topped with its compact spike of capsules. Open some of -these shells, almost as solid as cherry-stones. Inside is the Weevil in -the adult state. Open them in winter: the Gymnetron has not gone. Open -them for the last time in April: the little Weevil is still at home. - -Meanwhile, fresh mulleins have sprouted hard by; they flower; their -shells attain the right degree of ripeness: the time has come to leave, -to go and establish one’s family. Not till then does the solitary -demolish her hermitage, her capsule, which has protected her so -faithfully hitherto. - -And how does she do so? It is quite simple. Her rostrum is a short -bradawl, easily wielded therefore, even in the confined space of a -cell. The shell, moreover, is not too strong. It is a very dry vellum -wrapper rather than a hard wooden wall. The recluse drives her -short-handled pick into it; she stabs and thumps and brings the wall -crumbling down. And now hurrah for the joys of the sun! Hurrah for the -yellow flowers, with stamens all bristling with violet hairs! - -Considering their tools, in one case of exaggerated length under a too -low ceiling, in another short and suited to the space available in the -cell, are not both these insects happily inspired, the first in leaving -her nut prematurely, while the grub’s powerful shears enable her to do -so, the second in spending three parts of the year in the security of -her shell, quitting it only at the time of the wedding on the friendly -plant? Thus do we see the impeccable logic of the instincts revealed, -even in the humblest creatures. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE POPLAR-WEEVIL - - -Generally speaking, the mother Weevil’s attainments are limited to -slipping her eggs into places where the grubs will find food to suit -them and occasionally, with wonderfully assured botanical tact, to -varying the diet. She does little or no industrial work. The niceties -of the baby-linen or the feeding-bottle do not concern her. To this -uncouth maternity I know but one exception, appertaining to certain -Weevils who, in order to endow their young with preserved foodstuffs, -have the knack of rolling a leaf, which serves as board and lodging in -one. - -Among these manufacturers of vegetable sausages the most skilful is the -Poplar-weevil (Rhynchites populi, Lin.), who is of modest size but -splendidly attired. Her back glitters with gold and copper, her abdomen -with indigo-blue. Would you see her at work, you need but inspect the -lower twigs of the common black poplar, at the edge of the meadows, -about the end of May. - -While, overhead, spring’s caressing breezes stir the majestic green -distaff and set the leaves quivering on their flat stalks, down below, -in a layer of calmer air, this year’s tender shoots remain quiescent. -Here above all, far from the wind-tossed heights uncongenial to the -industrious, the Rhynchites labours. And, as the workshop is just at a -man’s height, nothing is more easy than to watch the roller’s actions. - -Easy, yes, but distressing, under a blazing sun, if you wish to follow -the insect in every detail of its method and the progress of its work. -Moreover, this involves long journeys, which take up time; and again it -is none too favourable to precise observations, which demand indefinite -leisure and assiduous inspections at all hours of the day. It is -greatly preferable to pursue our studies in the comfort of our own -home; but it is above all things necessary that the insect should lend -itself to our plan. - -The Rhynchites fulfils this condition excellently well. She is a -peaceable enthusiast who works on my table with the same zest as on her -poplar-tree. A few young shoots, planted in fresh sand, under a -wire-gauze cover, and renewed as and when they fade, take the place of -the tree in my work-room. The Weevil, not in the least intimidated, -devotes herself to her industry even under my magnifying-glass and -supplies me with as many cylinders as I could wish for. - -Let us watch her at work. From this year’s growth, sprouting in sheaves -at the base of the trunk, she chooses the leaf to be rolled; but she -picks it not among the lower leaves, which are already of the usual -green and of a firm texture, nor yet among the end leaves, which are -still growing. Above, they are too young, not large enough; below, they -are too old, too tough, too difficult to manage. - -The leaf selected belongs to the intermediate rows. Though still of a -doubtful green, in which yellow predominates, soft and shiny with -varnish, it has very nearly attained the final dimensions. Its -denticulations swell into delicate glandular pads, whence oozes a -little of the viscous matter that smears the buds at the moment when -their scales separate. - -Now a word on the tools. The legs are provided with two claws shaped -like the hook of a steel-yard. The lower side of the tarsi carries a -thick brush of white bristles. Thus shod, the insect very nimbly climbs -the most slippery perpendicular walls; it can stand and run like a Fly, -back downwards, on the ceiling of a glass bell. This characteristic -alone is enough to suggest the delicate balance which its work will -demand. - -The beak, the curved and powerful rostrum, without being exaggerated in -size, like those of the Balanini, expands at the tip into a spatula -ending in a pair of fine shears. It makes an excellent stylet, which -plays the first part of all. - -The leaf, as a matter of fact, cannot be rolled in its actual -condition. It is a living sheet which, owing to the rush of the sap and -the resilience of the tissues, would recover its flatness while the -insect was endeavouring to bend it. The dwarf has not the strength to -master an object of this size, to roll it up so long as it retains the -elasticity of life. This is obvious to our eyes; it is obvious likewise -to the Weevil’s. - -How is she to obtain the degree of lifeless flexibility required in the -circumstances? We might say: - -‘The leaf must be plucked, allowed to fall to the earth and manipulated -on the ground when sufficiently faded.’ - -The Weevil knows more than we do about these things and does not share -our opinion. What she says to herself is: - -‘On the ground, amid the intricate obstructions of the grass, my task -would be impracticable. I want elbow-room; I want the thing to hang in -the air, free from any obstacle. And there is a more important -condition: my larva would refuse a rank, withered sausage; it insists -on food that retains a certain freshness. The cylinder which I intend -for its consumption must be not a dead leaf but an enfeebled leaf, not -entirely deprived of the juices with which the tree supplies it. I must -wean my leaf and not kill it outright, so that, when dead, it will -remain in its place during the few days of the grub’s extreme youth.’ - -The mother therefore, having made her selection, takes up her stand on -the stalk of the leaf and there patiently inserts her rostrum, turning -it with a persistency that denotes the great importance of this -stiletto-thrust. A little wound opens, a fairly deep wound, which soon -becomes a speck of decay. - -It is done: the conduits are cut and allow only a small quantity of sap -to ooze into the edge. At the injured point the leaf yields under its -own weight; it droops perpendicularly, becomes slightly withered and -soon acquires the requisite flexibility. The moment has come for -operating on it. - -That stiletto-thrust represents, though much less scientifically, the -prick of the Hunting Wasp’s sting. [42] The latter wants for her -offspring a prey now dead, now paralysed: she knows, with the -thoroughness of a consummate anatomist, at what points it behoves her -to insert her lancet to procure either sudden death or merely a -suppression of movement. The Rhynchites requires for hers a leaf -rendered flexible, half-alive, in a sense paralysed, which can be -easily fashioned into a cylinder; she is perfectly familiar with the -little leaf-stalk, the petiole, in which the vessels that disperse the -energy of the foliage are gathered in a tiny bundle; and she inserts -her drill here, here only and never elsewhere. Thus at one blow, -without much trouble, she effects the ruin of the aqueduct. Where can -the long-nosed insect have learnt her clever trick of draining springs? - -The leaf of the poplar is an irregular rhombus, a spear-head whose -sides are expanded into pointed wings. The manufacture of the cylinder -begins with one of these two lateral corners, the right or the left -indifferently. - -Despite the hanging posture of the leaf, which makes the upper or lower -surface equally easy of access, the insect never fails to take up its -position on the upper side. It has its reasons, dictated by the laws of -mechanics. The upper surface, which is smooth and more flexible, has to -form the inside of the cylinder; the under surface, which has greater -elasticity because of its powerful veins, has to occupy the outside. -The statics of the small-brained Weevils agrees with that of the -scientists. - -Watch her at work. She is standing on the line along which the leaf is -rolled, with three legs on the part already rolled and the three -opposite legs on the part still free. Firmly fixed on both with her -claws and tufts, she obtains a purchase with the legs on one side while -straining with the legs on the other side. The two halves of the -machine alternate as motive powers, so that at one moment the shaped -cylinder encroaches on the free leaf and at another the free leaf moves -and is applied to the cylinder already formed. - -There is nothing regular, however, about these alternations, which -depend upon circumstances known to the insect alone. Perhaps they -merely enable the insect to take a brief rest without suspending a task -which does not allow of interruptions. In the same way our two hands -mutually relieve each other by taking it in turns to carry a burden. - -It is impossible to form an exact image of the difficulties overcome -without watching, for hours on end, the obstinate straining of the -legs, which tremble with exhaustion and threaten to jeopardize -everything should one of them let go at the wrong moment, or without -seeing how prudently the leaf-roller refrains from releasing one claw -until the five others are firmly anchored. On the one hand are three -points of support, on the other three points of traction; and the six -points are shifted, one by one, little by little, without for an -instant allowing their mechanical system to become relaxed. A single -moment of forgetfulness or weariness would cause the refractory leaf to -unroll its cylinder and escape from the manipulator’s grasp. - -The work is performed, moreover, in an uncomfortable position. The leaf -hangs, almost or even quite vertically. Its surface is varnished and as -smooth as glass. But the worker is shod accordingly. With her tufted -soles, she scales polished and perpendicular surfaces; with her twelve -meat-hooks, she grapples the slippery floor. - -Yet this fine equipment does not rid the operation of all its -difficulties. I find it no easy matter to follow the progress through -the magnifying-glass. The hands of a watch do not move more slowly. For -a long while the insect stands still, at the same point, with its claws -firmly fixed: it is waiting for the leaf to take the curve and cease to -react. Here, of course, there is no glue to set hard and hold the fresh -surfaces stuck together. The stability depends purely on the flexion -acquired. And so it is not unusual for the elasticity of the leaf to -overcome the worker’s efforts and partly to unroll the more or less -complete work. Stubbornly, with the same impassive slowness, the insect -begins all over again, putting the unsubjected piece back into its -place. No, the Weevil is not one to allow herself to be upset by -failure: she knows too well what patience and time can do. - -As a rule, the Rhynchites works backwards. When her line is finished, -she is careful not to abandon the fold which she has just made in order -to return to the starting-point and begin another. The part last folded -is not yet sufficiently subdued; if left to itself too soon, it might -prove rebellious and flatten out again. The insect therefore continues -at this extreme point, which is more exposed than the rest, and then, -without letting go, makes her way backwards to the other end, always -with patient deliberation. In this manner, an added firmness is -imparted to the new fold; and the next fold is prepared. At the end of -the line, there is a fresh prolonged halt and a fresh move backwards. -Even so does the husbandman plough the furrows in alternate directions. - -Less frequently, no doubt when the leaf is found to be so limp as to -entail no risk, the insect abandons the fold which it has just made, -without going over it again conversely, and quickly scrambles back to -the starting-point to make another. - -Here we are at last. Coming and going from top to bottom and from -bottom to top, the insect, by dint of stubborn dexterity, has rolled -its leaf. It is now at the extreme edge of the leaf, at the lateral -corner opposite to that whereat the work began. This is the keystone on -which the stability of the rest depends. The Rhynchites redoubles her -efforts and her patience. With the tip of her rostrum, expanded -spatula-wise, she presses, point by point, the edge to be fixed, even -as the tailor presses the rebellious edges of a seam with his iron. For -a long, a very long time, without moving, she pushes and pushes, -awaiting a proper degree of adhesion. Point by point, the whole welt of -the corner is minutely and carefully made fast. - -How is adhesion obtained? If only some sort of thread were employed, -one might very well regard the rostrum as a sewing-machine, inserting -its needle at right angles into the stuff. But the comparison is not -permissible: there is no filament employed in the work. The explanation -of the adhesion lies elsewhere. - -The leaf is young, we said; the fine pads of its denticulations are -glands emitting traces of liquid glue. These drops of sticky matter are -the gum, the sealing-wax. By the pressure of its beak, the insect makes -it flow more abundantly from the glands. It then has only to hold the -signet in position and wait for the viscous seal to set. Taken all -round, this is our own method of sealing a letter. If it holds ever so -lightly, the leaf, losing its resilience as it gradually withers, will -soon cease to react and will of itself retain the cylindrical shape -imposed upon it. - -The work is finished. It is a cigar of the diameter of a thick straw -and about an inch long. It hangs perpendicularly from the end of the -stalk bruised and bent at a sharp angle. It has taken the whole day to -manufacture. After a short spell of rest, the mother tackles a second -leaf and, working by night, obtains another cylinder. Two in -twenty-four hours is as much as the most diligent can achieve. - -Now what is the roller’s object? Can she be preparing preserves for her -own use? Obviously not: no insect, where itself alone is concerned, -devotes such care and patience to the preparation of food. It is only -with a view to the family that it hoards so industriously. The -Rhynchites’ cigar forms a dowry for the future. - -Let us unroll it. Here, between the layers of the cylinder, is the egg; -often there are two, three or even four. They are oval, pale-yellow, -like fine drops of amber. Their adhesion to the leaf is very slight; -the least jerk loosens them. They are distributed without order, tucked -away more or less deeply in the thickness of the cigar and always -isolated, one at a time. We find them in the centre of the scroll, -almost at the corner where the rolling begins; we come upon them -between the different layers and even near the edge sealed in glue with -the signet of the rostrum. - -Without interrupting her work on the cylinder, without relaxing the -tension of her claws, the mother laid them between the edges of the -fold which she was forming, as she felt them coming, duly matured, at -the end of her oviduct. She produces life in the very midst of her -labours, amid the wheels of the machine which would be thrown out of -gear if she snatched a moment’s rest. Industry and procreation go -hand-in-hand. Short-lived, with but two or three weeks before her and -an expensive family to establish, the mother Rhynchites would not dare -to waste time in being churched. - -This is not all: on the same leaf, not far from the cylinder that is -being laboriously rolled, we almost always find the male. What is he -doing there, the lazybones? Is he watching the work as a mere onlooker, -who happened to be passing and stopped to see the wheels go round? Is -he interested in the business? Does he ever feel inclined to lend a -helping hand in case of need? - -One would say so. From time to time I see him take his stand behind his -industrious mate, in the furrow of the fold, hang on to the cylinder -and join in the work for a little. But it is done listlessly and -awkwardly. A bare half-turn of the wheel; and that’s enough for him. -After all, it is not his affair. He moves away, to the other end of the -leaf; he waits, he looks on. - -We will give him credit for this attempt, since paternal assistance in -settling the family is rare among insects; we will congratulate him on -the help which he gives, but not to excess: his assistance is -interested. It is a means of declaring his flame and urging his merits. - -And in fact, after several refusals, notwithstanding the advances made -during a brief collaboration on the cylinder, the impatient suitor is -accepted. Everything takes place on the site of the female’s labours. -For ten minutes or so the rolling is suspended, but the worker’s legs, -violently contracted, are very careful not to let go: were their effort -to cease, the cylinder might at once come unrolled. There must be no -interruption of work for this brief diversion, the insect’s only -enjoyment. - -The stoppage of the machine, which remains tense in order to keep the -recalcitrant roll in subjection, is soon over. The male retires to a -little distance, without quitting the leaf, and the task is resumed. -Sooner or later, before the seals are set upon the work, a fresh visit -is paid by the dawdler, who, under pretence of assisting, comes running -up, sticks his claws for a moment into the partly-rolled piece, plucks -up courage and renews his exploits with as much liveliness as though -nothing had yet occurred. And this is repeated three or four times -during the making of a single cigar, so much so that we begin to wonder -whether the laying of each egg may not require the direct co-operation -of the insatiable swain. - -It is true that numerous couples are formed in the sunlight, on the -leaves not yet punctured. Here the nuptial gambols are really a frolic -unaffected by the stern demands of labour. The insects revel -unreservedly, hustling their rivals off the field and browsing on half -the thickness of a leaf, which becomes furrowed with bare streaks -resembling a freakish handwriting. The fatigues of the workshop are -preceded by merry-making in gay company. - -According to the rules of entomology, once these rejoicings are over, -all should be quiet again and each mother should get to work on her -cigars without further disturbance. In this case the general law -relents. I have never seen a cylinder formed without a male lurking in -the neighbourhood; and if I had the patience to wait, I should not fail -to witness repeated pairings. These weddings renewed for each egg -puzzle me. Where, on the faith of the text-books, I looked for a single -mating, I find an indefinite number. - -This is not an isolated instance. I will mention a second, which is -even more striking. It is supplied by the Capricorn (Cerambyx heros). I -rear a few couples in captivity, with sliced pears for food and with -oak billets wherein to lay the eggs. The pairing is continued during -almost the whole of July. For four weeks the long-horned Beetle does -nothing but mount his mate, who, gripped by her rider, wanders at will -and, with the point of her oviscapt, selects the fissures in the bark -best-suited to receive the eggs. - -At long intervals, the Cerambyx steps off and goes to refresh himself -on a piece of pear. Then suddenly he stamps his feet as though he had -gone mad; he returns with a frantic rush, clambers into the saddle and -resumes his seat, of which he makes free use at all hours of the night -and day. At the moment when the egg is being placed in position, he -keeps quiet; with his hairy tongue he polishes the egg-layer’s back, -which is a Capricorn’s way of caressing; but the next instant he renews -his attempts, which are usually followed by success. There is no end to -it! - -The pairing continues in this manner for a month; it does not cease -until the ovaries are exhausted. Then, mutually worn out, having no -further business on the trunk of the oak, husband and wife separate, -languish for a few days, and die. - -What conclusion are we to draw from this extraordinary persistency in -the Cerambyx, the Rhynchites and many others? Simply this: our truths -are but provisional; assailed by the truths of to-morrow, they become -entangled with so many contradictory facts that the last word of -knowledge is doubt. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE VINE-WEEVIL - - -In the spring, while the poplar-leaves are being worked into cylinders, -another Rhynchites, who is likewise magnificently attired, is making -cigars out of vine-leaves. She is a little bigger, of a metallic -lustre, a golden green that changes to blue. Were she only larger, the -resplendent Vine-weevil would occupy a very respectable place among the -gems of entomology. - -To attract our eyes, she has something better than her brilliancy: she -has her industry, which has earned her the hatred of the vine-grower, -jealous of his property. The peasant knows her: he even calls her by a -special name, an honour rarely bestowed in the world of the smaller -creatures. - -The rural vocabulary is rich in names of plants, but very poor in names -of insects. A couple of dozen words, inextricably confused because of -their general character, represent the whole list of insect names in -our Provençal idiom, expressive and fertile though this idiom be when -it refers to the vegetable world and even, at times, to a sorry weed -which one would think was known to the botanist only. - -The man of the soil is interested above all things in the plant, the -great foster-mother; all else leaves him indifferent. Splendid -adornment, curious habits, marvels of instinct: all these make no -appeal to him. But to touch his vine, to eat other people’s grass: what -a heinous crime! Quick, a name, a badge of infamy, to hang round the -malefactor’s neck! - -This time the Provençal peasant has taken the trouble to invent a -special term: he calls the cigar-roller the Bécaru. Here the scientific -name and the rural name are in complete agreement. Rhynchites and -Bécaru are exact equivalents: both allude to the insect’s long beak. - -But how much more correct is the vine-grower’s term, in its lucid -simplicity, than the scientific name, set forth in full, with its -imperative complement relating to the species! I rack my brain in vain -to guess the reason why the cigar-roller of the vine was called the -Rhynchites of the Birch (R. betuleti, Fab.). - -If there be in fact a Weevil that exploits the birch-tree, it is -certainly not the same as that of the vineyards: the two leaves to be -rolled are too dissimilar in shape and size to suit the same worker. - -Recorders of descriptions, you who, under the scrupulous eye of the -magnifying-glass, specify the shapes and establish the identity of the -animal species, before you give names and surnames to your impaled -insects, pray, pray inquire a little into their manner of life. By so -doing, you will see things more clearly, you will avoid much detestable -nonsense, and you will spare the novice such doubts as those which -obsess him when he finds himself obliged to label a Weevil inhabiting -the vine-branches as a Rhynchites of the Birch. We are ready to excuse -cacophonous syllables and grating consonants; but we reject with -exasperation a name that misrepresents the facts. - -In her work the Vine-weevil pursues the same method as the -Poplar-weevil. The leaf is first pricked with the rostrum at a point on -the stalk, which checks the flow of the sap and makes the edges of the -faded leaf pliable. The rolling begins at the angle of one of the lower -lobes, with the smooth, green upper surface inside and the downy, -strongly-veined lower surface outside. - -But the great size of the leaf and its deeply indented outline hardly -ever allow of regular work from one end of the leaf to the other. Over -and over again, sudden folds occur and alter the direction of the -rolling, leaving now the green and now the downy surface outside, -without any appreciable design, as though by chance. The poplar-leaf, -with its simple form and its moderate size, yields an elegant cylinder; -the vine-leaf, with its cumbersome width and complicated outline, -produces a shapeless cigar, an untidy bundle. - -This is not due to defective talents, but to the difficulty of -manipulating and controlling a leaf of this kind. The mechanical -method, indeed, is the same as that practised on the poplar-leaf. With -three legs here and three legs there on the edges of the fold, the -Bécaru obtains a purchase on one side and tugs and strains on the -other. - -Like her rival cigar-maker, she works backwards, keeping her eyes upon -the part which, folded that moment and still unset, may require -immediate touching up. The product is thus watched until it gives proof -of its stability. - -Like the other, she too seals the denticulations of the final layer by -pressing them with her rostrum. Here there is no sticky secretion -oozing from the edges of the leaf, but there is a downy fluff whose -fibres get entangled and cause adhesion. On the whole, therefore, the -method employed by the two Rhynchites is the same. - -Nor do their domestic habits differ. While the mother is patiently -rolling her cylinder, the father remains close at hand, on the same -leaf. He looks on. Next, he comes running along in a hurry, takes his -stand in the crease and kindly lends the assistance of his -grappling-irons. But he again is not a very diligent helper. His brief -collaboration is a pretext to tease the worker and achieve his ends by -sheer persistence. - -He retires satisfied. Let us watch him. Before the roll is finished, we -shall see him return many times, inspired by the same intentions, which -are rarely scorned. I need not insist further on these pairings, which -are repeated indefinitely and run counter to the classic data on one of -the nicest points of insect physiology. To impress the seal of life -upon the hundreds of eggs of the mother Bombyx, [43] or the thirty -thousand or more of the mother Bee, the father exerts only one direct -intervention. The Weevil claims the privilege of intervening for almost -every egg. I leave the curious problem to the experts. - -Let us unroll a recently-made cigar. The eggs, fine, amber-coloured -beads, are scattered, one by one, at very different depths in the -spiral. As a rule, I find several, from five to eight. The multiplicity -of fellow-feasters, in both the rolled poplar-leaf and the rolled -vine-leaf, bears witness to extreme frugality. - -The two leaf-rollers are quickly hatched: the grub is born in five or -six days’ time. Then the observer begins to be faced with the same -difficulties that beset a prentice hand in the rearing of larvæ; and -these difficulties are all the more exasperating in that there was -nothing to predict them. The course to be followed here seems indeed so -very simple. - -Since the rolled leaves are at the same time board and lodging, we have -but to pick them, from the vine and the poplar respectively, and to -place them in the glass jars, whence we can take them at such times as -we consider suitable. What used to be effected in the open air, amid -the disturbances of the atmosphere, will be effected all the better in -the peaceful shelter of the glass. There can be no doubt, therefore, of -an easy success. - -But what is this? From time to time I unroll a few cigars to ascertain -the state of their contents. What I see fills me with anxiety for the -fate of my baby-farm. The young larvæ are very far from thriving. I -find some of them languishing and emaciated, shrivelling into a -wrinkled ball; I find some of them dead. Vainly I possess myself in -patience: the weeks go by and not one of my grubs grows or gives a sign -of energy. From day to day my two colonies dwindle until they consist -wholly of dying larvæ. When July comes, there is not a living thing -left in my glass jars. - -All have died. And of what? Of starvation, yes, of starvation in a -well-stored granary. This is evident from the small amount of food -consumed. The cylinders are almost untouched; at most I perceive in the -midst of their layers a few scratches, the traces of a scornful tooth. -Probably the food was too dry, had been rendered uneatable by -desiccation. - -Under natural conditions, while the burning heat of the sun hardened -the leaves by day, the mists and the dew softened them at night. Thus, -in the heart of the spiral layers, a column of soft crumb is preserved, -a necessity for the tender nurselings. A sojourn in the uniformly dry -atmosphere of the jars has, on the other hand, turned the roll into a -hard, stale crust which the grubs refused to touch. The failure is due -to that. - -A year later, I begin again, this time more cautiously. The rolled -leaves, I said to myself, remain hanging for some days on the vine or -the poplar. The perforation of the leaf-stalk has not completely -severed the ducts conveying the sap; a scanty flow still persists and -for some time maintains a certain flexibility in the leaf, especially -in the centre of the spiral, which is not exposed to the action of the -sun. Consequently the new-born grub has fresh provisions within reach -of its mandibles. It waxes big and strong and acquires a stomach able -to satisfy itself with less tender food. - -Meantime, from day to day, the roll turns brown and dry. If it remained -indefinitely hanging on the bough and if, as often happens, there were -a lack of moisture at nights, it would dry up completely and its -inmates would perish as they did in my glass jars. But, sooner or -later, the wind shakes them off and they drop to the ground. - -Their fall is the salvation of the grub, which is still very far from -full-grown. At the foot of the poplar, under the grass of the meadow -subject to frequent irrigation, the soil is always damp; at the foot of -the vine-stock, the earth, overshadowed by the branches, fairly well -retains the moisture of the last showers. Lying in the wet and -sheltered from the direct onslaughts of the sun, the Rhynchites’ -victuals remain as soft as need be. - -Thus I argued, meditating a fresh experiment; and the facts confirmed -the accuracy of my forecast. This time all goes well. Rather than the -green rolls of recent manufacture, I gather the brown cigars which are -due to fall to the ground. The larvæ in these latter, being older, are -less difficult to rear. Lastly, my harvest is installed in glass jars -as before, but on a bed of moist sand. With this and this alone I -achieve complete success. - -Despite the mildew which this time invades the heaped cigars and seems -bound to jeopardize everything, the larvæ thrive and grow without -hindrance. The decay which I distrusted so much in the beginning, when -I kept my crops dry to avoid it, this decay suits them. I see them -taking big mouthfuls of decomposing shreds, the tainted remains of -leaves that have almost turned to mould. - -I am no longer surprised that in my first experiments my nurselings -allowed themselves to die of hunger. Obeying a mistaken idea of -hygiene, I took pains to keep the rations in good condition, in an -atmosphere free from mustiness. I ought, on the contrary, to have -allowed fermentation to do its work, softening the tough tissues and -enhancing their flavour. - -Six weeks later, in the middle of June, the oldest rolls are -dilapidated hovels, retaining scarcely a trace of their cylindrical -form save the outer layer, a protecting roof. Let us open one of these -ruins. Inside, there is absolute wreck, a mixture of shapeless remnants -and black granules, like fine gunpowder; outside, a crumbling envelope, -pierced here and there with holes. These openings tell me that the -inhabitants have departed and made their way underground. - -I find them, in fact, in the layers of moist sand with which the jars -are provided. Pushing and heaving with their backs, they have each dug -themselves a round hollow, taking up the least possible room, in which -the grub, rolled into a bunch, makes ready for its new life. - -Though formed of sandy particles, the wall of the cell does not -threaten to collapse. Before lapsing into the sleep of the -transformation, the recluse has deemed it prudent to strengthen its -house. With a little care, I am able to detach the dwelling in the form -of a little ball the size of a pea. - -I then discover that the materials are cemented by means of a gummy -produce which, liquid at the moment of its emission, has penetrated to -a sufficient depth and welded the sandy grains into a wall of a certain -thickness. This product, which is colourless and not very plentiful, -leaves me in doubt as to its origin. It certainly does not come from -glands similar to the silk-tubes of the caterpillars; the Weevil-grub -possesses nothing of that kind. It is, therefore, a contribution from -the digestive canal, presented through either the entrance or the -exit-door. Which of the two? - -Without completely solving the question of this cement, another Weevil -supplies a fairly probable answer. This is Brachycerus algirus, Fab., -an ugly, unwieldy insect, covered with little warts each ending in a -claw-like horn. It is soot-black and almost always soiled with earth -when you meet it in spring. This dusty garb denotes a tunneller. - -The Brachycerus, in fact, haunts the subsoil, hunting for garlic, the -exclusive food of her larva. In my modest kitchen-garden, garlic, dear -to the Provence folk, has its special corner. At the time when we -gather it, in July, most of the heads give me a magnificent grub, fat -as butter, which has dug itself a large hollow in one of the cloves, -only one, without touching the rest. This is the grub of the -Brachycerus, which discovered the aioli of the Provençal cooks long -before they did. - -Raw garlic, Raspail [44] used to say, is the camphor of the poor. The -camphor possibly, but not the bread. This paradox becomes a reality in -the case of our grub, which is so much in love with this powerful -condiment that it will not eat anything else its whole life long. How, -with this fiery diet, does it put on such fine layers of fat? That is -its secret; and there is room for every sort of taste in this world of -ours. - -After eating its clove, this lover of garlic dives deeper into the -soil, fearing perhaps the lifting of the bulbs, the time for which will -soon arrive. It foresees the annoyance which the market-gardener would -cause it; and it goes below, far from the natal plant. - -I have reared a dozen in a jar half full of sand. Some have established -themselves right against the wall, which enables me to obtain a vague -idea of how things happen in the underground cell. The builder is bent -into a bow which now and again closes and forms a circle. I then seem -to see it collecting, with the tips of its mandibles, as the Larini do, -a sticky drop which forms at its hinder end. With this it soaks the -sandy wall and smears the glass, on which the stuff hardens in cloudy -streaks, white and pale-yellow. - -On the whole, the appearance of the cement employed and the little that -I can see of the grub’s proceedings incline me to believe that the -Brachycerus strengthening its cabin uses the same method as the Larinus -building its thatched hut. The Brachycerus also knows the whimsical -secret of turning the intestine into a factory of hydraulic cement. The -sandy agglomerate thus obtained forms a fairly solid shell, in which -the insect, which reaches the adult stage in August, remains until the -garlic season is at hand. - -This method may well be general among the various Weevils that, in the -larval, nymphal or adult state, spend part of the year tucked away in -an underground shell. The leaf-rollers, notably the Rhynchites of the -poplar and the vine, sparing though they be in the use of their cement, -no doubt have a store of it in their intestine, for it would be -difficult for them to find anything better. Let us, however, leave a -door open to doubt and continue. - -For the first time, at the end of August, four months after the rolling -of the cigars, I take the Poplar-weevil in her adult form out of her -shell. I disinter her in all her gleaming gold and copper; but the -beauty, if I had left her undisturbed, would have slept in her -subterranean fortress till the young leaves sprouted on her tree, in -April. - -I disinter others, soft and quite white, whose limp wing-cases open to -allow the crumpled wings to spread. The most advanced of these pale -sleepers boast, by way of a startling contrast, a deep-black rostrum -with violet gleams. The Sacred Beetle, in the early days of his final -form, begins by hardening and colouring his implements of labour: the -toothed arm-pieces and the clypeus with its semi-circular notching. The -Weevil likewise in the first place hardens and colours her drill. These -industrious workers interest me with their preparations. Barely has the -rest of the body set and crystallized before the tools of its future -work acquire exceptional strength, which they owe to an early and -long-protracted tempering. - -From the broken shells I also take nymphs and larvæ. The latter -apparently will not pass beyond the first stage this year. What is the -use of hurrying? The larva, no less than the adult and perhaps more so, -is given to slumbering through the severities of the winter. When the -poplar unfurls its sticky buds and the Cricket on the greensward -strikes up the first bars of his melody, they will be ready, one and -all: the forward and backward alike; faithful to the call of spring, -all will come forth from the ground, eager to climb the kindly tree and -to renew the leaf-rollers’ festival in the sunlight. - -In its pebbly, parching soil, on which the food-cylinders dry up so -quickly, the Vine-weevil lags behind, exposed as she is to periods of -unemployment due to the absence of properly softened food. It is in -September and October that I obtain the first adults, splendid gems, -enclosed, until spring, in their casket, the underground shell. At this -season there is an abundance of buried nymphs and larvæ. Many of the -grubs even have not yet left their cylinders; but, to judge by their -size, they will hardly linger much longer. At the first frosts, all -will become torpid and postpone their further development until the end -of the winter. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -OTHER LEAF-ROLLERS - - -Is the insect’s trade determined by the nature of the tools of which it -disposes, or, on the contrary, is it independent of them? Does the -organic structure govern the instincts, or do the insect’s various -aptitudes hark back to origins that cannot be explained merely by the -details of its anatomy? We shall obtain an answer to these questions -from two other leaf-rollers, the Apoderus of the Hazel (A. coryli, -Lin.) and the Attelabus (A. curculionoides, Lin.), both of them eager -rivals of the cigar-makers who work the poplar and the vine. - -According to the Greek lexicon, the term Apoderus ought to mean ‘the -flayed.’ Is this really what the author of the expression had in mind? -My few books, the odd volumes of a village naturalist, do not enable me -to reply. However, to me the word is explained by the insect’s colour. - -The Apoderus is a skinless creature, displaying its naked and bleeding -misery. Its colour is vermilion, as bright as sealing-wax. It is like a -drop of arterial blood coagulated on the dark green of a leaf. - -To this loud costume, rare among insects, are added other, equally -unusual characteristics. The Weevils are all microcephalous. This one -exaggerates the absurd disproportion even further: she retains only the -indispensable minimum of a head, as though she were trying to do -without one altogether. The cranium in which her poor brain is lodged -is a paltry, glittering, jet-black speck. In front of this speck is no -beak, but a very short, wide snout; behind is an unsightly neck, which -one might imagine to have been strangled in a halter. - -Standing high on her legs, clumsy in her gait, she ambles step by step -across her leaf, which she pierces with round windows. The material -removed is her food. Faith, a strange creature: a reminiscence, maybe, -of some ancient mould, cast aside by life’s progress! - -Three Apoderi and no more figure in the European fauna. The best-known -is that of the hazel. This is the one to whom I propose to devote my -attention. I find her here, not on the hazel, her lawful domain, but on -the common alder. This change in her activities deserves a brief -investigation. - -My district does not suit the hazel very well; the climate is -unfavourable, being too hot and dry. On the high slopes of Mont Ventoux -it grows sparsely; in the plain, except in the gardens where a few find -a footing, they are no longer to be seen. In the absence of the -fostering bush, the insect, without becoming impossible, is at least -extremely rare. - -Long though I have been beating the brambles of my countryside over an -umbrella held upside down, here is our Apoderus for the first time. For -three springs in succession I see the red Weevil on the alder and -observe her work. One tree, one alone and always the same, in the -osier-beds of the Aygues provides me with this leaf-roller, whom I now -for the first time see alive. The other alders round about have not a -trace of her, though they are only a few yards distant. There is here, -on this privileged tree, a small, accidental colony, a settlement of -foreigners, who are becoming acclimatized before extending their -domain. - -How did they come here? Undoubtedly brought by the torrent. The -geographers call the Aygues a water-course. As an eye-witness, I should -call it, more accurately, a pebble-course. Understand me: I do not mean -that the dry pebbles flow down it of themselves; the low gradient does -not permit of such an avalanche. But only let it rain; and they will -stream fast enough. Then I can hear the roar of the grinding stones -from my house, a mile and a quarter distant. - -During the greater part of the year, the Aygues is a broad expanse of -white pebbles; of the torrent naught remains but the bed, a furrow of -enormous width, comparable with that of its mighty neighbour, the -Rhone. Let the rain fall persistently, let the snows melt on the slopes -of the Alps; and the thirsty furrow fills for a few days: roaring, it -overflows to a great distance and turbulently shifts its shoals of -pebbles. Return a week later. The roar of the flood is succeeded by -silence. The terrible waters have disappeared, leaving on the banks, as -the trace of their brief passage, wretched muddy puddles soon absorbed -by the sun. - -These sudden freshets bring a thousand live gleanings swept off the -flanks of the mountains. The dry bed of the Aygues is a most -interesting botanical garden. There you may gather many vegetable -species brought down from the higher levels, some temporary, -disappearing without offspring in a single season, others persisting -and adapting themselves to the new climate. They come from far away, -from the heights, these exiles; to pluck this one or that in its true -environment you would have to climb Mont Ventoux, pass beyond the zone -of the beeches and reach the altitude where trees cannot grow. - -Alien zoology in its turn is represented in the osier-beds, whose calm -is disturbed only during unusually prolonged floods. My attention is -attracted especially by the land-mollusc, that champion stay-at-home. -In stormy weather, when the thunder growls—lou tambour di cacalauso, as -the Provençal calls it—the most that the Snail permits himself in the -matter of moving about is to issue from his stronghold, some crevice in -the rocks, and to browse before his door upon the grasses, mosses and -lichens made tender by the flood. It takes a cataclysm to make that one -travel! - -The wild freshets of the Aygues succeed in doing so. They bring into my -part of the world and deposit in the osier-thickets the largest of our -Snails, Helix pomatia, the glory of Burgundy. [45] Rolled down the -grassy mountain-slopes by the showers, the exile defies immersion -within the water-tight cover of his chalky operculum; he endures the -jolting, thanks to his strong shell. He travels by stages, from one -osier-bed to another. He descends as far even as the Rhone and -colonizes the Île des Rats and the Île du Colombier opposite the mouth -of the Aygues. - -Whence does he come, this enforced emigrant, whom one would vainly seek -elsewhere in the land of the olive? He loves a moderate temperature, -green turf, cool shades. His place of origin is certainly not here, but -far away on the rounded heights of the lower, outermost Alps. The -highlander’s exile none the less seems pleasant. The big Snail does -quite well in the marshy scrub on the banks of the torrent. - -Neither is the Apoderus a native. She is a castaway, hailing from the -hazel-clad heights. She has made the voyage in a little boat, that is -to say, in the leafy cockle-shell in which the grub is born. The vessel -was tightly closed, which made the passage possible. Running ashore at -some point on the bank in the height of summer, the insect perforated -its cell and, not finding its favourite tree, established itself upon -the alder. There it founded a family, remaining faithful to the same -tree for the three years during which I had to do with it. It is -probable, for that matter, that the origin of the settlement dates -farther back. - -The history of this stranger interests me. The primordial conditions of -her life—climate and food—are changed. Her ancestors lived under a -temperate sky; they grazed on the leaf of the hazel-bush; they -manufactured cylinders out of piece-goods made familiar by the constant -practice of past generations. But the wanderer is living under a torrid -sky; she grazes on the alder-leaf, whose flavour and nutritive -properties must differ from those of the family diet; she works at an -unknown piece, though it is not unlike the normal piece in shape and -size. What changes has this disturbance of its diet and climate -effected in the insect’s characteristics? - -Absolutely none. In vain I pass the magnifying-glass over the exploiter -of the alder and over the exploiter of the hazel-bush, of whom the -latter has reached me from the heart of the Corrèze by post. I see not -the least difference between the two, even in the smallest details. Can -the method of industry have been modified? Without seeing the work done -with a hazel-leaf, I boldly assert that it is similar to that obtained -with an alder-leaf. - -Change the food and the climate, change the materials to be worked: if -it can adapt itself to the new conditions imposed upon it, the insect -persists, immutable in its craft, habits and organization; if it -cannot, it dies. To be as one was or not to be: that is what the -castaway of the torrent, like so many others, tells us. - -Let us watch her at work on the alder and we shall know how she labours -on the hazel-bush. The Apoderus does not know the method of the -Rhynchites, who, to kill the elasticity of the leaf to be rolled, makes -a deep puncture in the stalk. The red leaf-roller has a special modus -operandi, in no way related to that of the puncture. - -Can this change of method be due to the absence of the rostrum, of the -fine awl capable of being driven into the narrow leaf-stalk? It is -possible, but not certain, for the snout, an excellent pair of shears, -could cut half through the leaf-stalk at a bite and obtain an -equivalent result. I prefer to see in the novel procedure one of those -methods which are the separate property of every specialist. We must -never judge of the work by the tool employed. The insect is an adept at -using any sort of implement, even though defective. - -The fact is that with her mandibles the Apoderus slashes the alder-leaf -cross-wise, at some distance from the base. The whole leaf is cut clean -through, including even the central vein. The only part left intact is -the extreme edge, from which the large severed area hangs withering. - -This area, the greater part of the leaf, is then folded in two along -the principal vein, with the green or upper surface inside; then, -starting from the tip, the folded sheet is rolled into a cylinder. The -orifice above is closed with that part of the border which the cut has -left untouched; the orifice below is closed with the edges of the leaf -tucked inwards. - -The pretty little barrel hangs perpendicularly, swaying to the least -breeze. It is hooped by the median vein, which projects at the upper -end. Between the second and third pages, as it were, of the double -sheet, near the middle of the spiral, is the egg, resin-red and, this -time, single. - -The few cylinders which I have been able to examine afford me no -circumstantial details touching the development of their inmate. The -most interesting fact which I learn from them is that the grub, when it -has attained its full growth, does not go underground as the others do. -It remains in its barrel, which the wind soon shakes down into the -grass. That half-decayed shelter would be very unsafe in bad weather. -The red Weevil knows this. She hastens to assume her adult form, to don -her scarlet cloak; and by the beginning of summer she abandons her -cylinder, now a mere wreck. She will find a better refuge under the -loose strips of old bark. - -Attelabus curculionoides is no less expert in the art of making a keg -out of a leaf. There is one curious point of resemblance: the new -cooper is red, like the other, or, more accurately speaking, crimson. -The rostrum is very short and expanded into a snout. Here the likeness -ceases. Our first friend is rather fine-drawn and loose-limbed; the -second is a thickset, round, dumpy Weevil. We are quite surprised by -her work, which seems incompatible with the worker’s awkward, clumsy -build. - -And she does not work a docile stuff either: she rolls ilex-leaves, -young ones, it is true, not yet too stiff. It is a tough material all -the same, difficult to bend and slow in fading. Of the four -leaf-rollers of my acquaintance, the smallest, the Attelabus, has the -hardest lot; nevertheless, it is she, the dwarf, such a bungler in -appearance, who by dint of patience builds the prettiest house. - -At other times she exploits the common oak, the English oak, whose -leaves are broader and more deeply indented than those of the ilex, or -holm-oak. On the spring shoots she selects the topmost leaves, of -average size and medium consistency. If the position suit her, five, -six or more little kegs will be dangling from the same twig. - -Whether it settle on the holm-oak or on the common oak, the insect -begins by incising the leaf, at some distance from the base, to the -right and left of the median vein, while respecting the vein itself, -which will provide a solid attachment. Then the Apoderus’ method is -repeated: the leaf, rendered more tractable by the two incisions, is -folded lengthwise, with the upper surface inside. All these -leaf-rollers, cigar-makers and coopers alike, know how to overcome the -resilience of a leaf by means of punctures or incisions; all are -thoroughly versed in that principle of statics according to which the -surface whose elasticity is the greater will be found on the convex -aspect of the curve. - -Between the two sheets which touch, the egg is laid, again one egg. -Then the double leaf is rolled from the tip to the attachment. The -indentations, the serrations of the last fold are sealed down by the -patient pressure of the snout; the two mouths of the cylinder are -closed by turning the edges in. It is finished. The barrel is -completed, about two-fifths of an inch long and hooped at its fixed end -by the median vein. It is small but strong and not devoid of elegance. - -The thick-set cooper has her merits, which I should like to elucidate -more fully by watching her at work. What I have contrived to see in the -open, in the actual workshop, amounts to little more than nothing. Many -a time do I surprise the Weevil on her cask, motionless, with her snout -against the staves. What is she doing there? She is sleeping in the -sunlight; she is waiting for the last layer of the work to acquire a -firm hold under prolonged pressure. If I examine her too closely, she -at once gathers her legs under her belly and lets herself fall. - -Since my visits tell me hardly anything, I try to rear the insect in -domesticity. The Attelabus lends herself very well to the attempt: she -works under my bell-jars as zealously as on her oak. What I now learn -deprives me of all hope of following the details of the leaf-rolling -process: the Attelabus is one of those who work at night. - -Late in the evening, about nine or ten o’clock, she gives the cuts of -the scissors that slash the leaf; next morning the keg is finished. -Seen by the uncertain light of a lamp and at untimely hours, hours -rightly claimed by sleep, the worker’s delicate technique would escape -me. We will give up the idea. - -There is a reason for these nocturnal habits. I think I see what it is. -The leaf of the oak, especially of the holm-oak, is much harder to bend -than the leaf of the alder, the poplar or the vine. If rolled in the -daytime, under the burning rays of the sun, it would add to the -difficulties arising from indifferent flexibility those due to -incipient dryness. On the other hand, when visited by the dew, in the -coolness of the night, it will remain pliable; it will yield adequately -to the efforts of the roller; and the barrel will be ready when the sun -comes, with its blazing heat, to steady the shape of the still moist -fabric. - -However different one from the other, the four leaf-rollers have shown -us that the individual craft is not a matter of organic structure, that -the tool does not determine the nature of the work. Whether endowed -with a rostrum or a snout, whether long-legged or slow, slender or -thickset, perforators or cutters-out, they all four achieve the same -result, the cylinder that acts as a shelter and a larder for the grub. - -They tell us that instinct has its origin elsewhere than in the organs. -It goes farther back; it is inscribed in the primeval code of life. Far -from being dependent on the tools, it commands them and is able to -employ them as it finds them, with the same skill, for one task here -and for another there. - -The little cooper of the oak-tree has not finished with her -revelations. Having observed her pretty frequently, I know how -fastidious she is of the quality of her victuals. If they be dry, she -refuses them absolutely, even though it means dying of starvation. She -wants them tender, pickled in moisture, softened by incipient decay, -even seasoned with a touch of mildew. I prepare them to her liking by -keeping them in a jar on a bed of moist sand. - -Thus treated, the grub hatched in June soon increases in size. Two -months are enough to turn it into a handsome orange-yellow larva, -which, when its cell is broken open, suddenly, with the violence of a -spring released, straightens its curved body and tosses about. Observe -its slender form, much less stout than that of the other Weevils in -general. This is the only instance in which lack of corpulence in the -larva denotes an adult of an exceptional class. I shall say no more on -the subject of the grub: its description would be of no particular -interest. - -The matter deserves looking into more closely. It is the end of -September; we have been suffering from an extraordinarily hot and dry -summer. The dog-days seem determined to last for ever. The forests are -ablaze in the Ardèche, the Bordeaux and the Roussillon districts; whole -villages have been burnt down on the slopes of the Alps; in front of my -door, a careless passer-by, throwing away a match, sets fire to the -neighbouring meadows. You cannot call it a summer: it is a -conflagration. - -What can the Attelabus be doing in such disastrous weather? She is -thriving comfortably in my jars, which keep her victuals soft for her; -but, at the foot of her oak, amid the undergrowth shrivelled as though -by the breath of a furnace, on the calcined earth, what becomes of the -poor thing? Let us go and see. - -Beneath the oaks which she was exploiting in June, I succeed in -finding, among the dead leaves, a dozen of her little barrels. They -have retained their green colour, so suddenly did the desiccation seize -them. They crack and crumble into dust under the pressure of the -fingers. - -I open a barrel. In the middle is the grub, looking fit enough, but how -small! It is hardly larger than when it left the egg. Is it dead or -alive, this yellow atom? Its immobility proclaims it to be dead; its -unfaded colour proclaims it to be alive. I break open a second barrel, -a third. In the middle there is always a yellow grub, motionless and -quite small, as though newly-born. We will stop at this and keep the -rest of my collection for an experiment that occurs to my mind. - -With their mummy-like immobility, are the grubs really dead? No; for, -if I prick them with the point of a needle, they twitch immediately. -Their condition is merely one of arrested development. In their -freshly-rolled sheath, still hanging from the tree and receiving a -little sap, they found the food necessary for their early growth; then -the barrel fell to the ground, where it soon dried up. - -Then, disdaining its hard provender, the grub ceased to eat and grow. -Who sleeps dines, so the proverb says; and it is waiting in a state of -torpor for the rain to soften its bread. - -This rain, for which man and beast have been sighing for four months -past, I have it in my power to realize, at least to the limits of a -Weevil’s requirements. I float the rest of the dry barrels in water. -When they are thoroughly soaked, I transfer them into a glass tube, -closed at either end with a plug of wet cotton-wool which will keep the -atmosphere moist. - -The result of my stratagems deserves mention. The sleepers awake, eat -the inside of the softened loaf, and make up so well for lost time that -in a few weeks they are as large as those which have not suffered any -interruption in my jars half full of moist earth. - -This knack of suspending life for months at a time, when the provisions -have lost the requisite tenderness, is not repeated in the other -leaf-rollers. At the end of August, three months after the hatching, -there is nothing left alive in the cigars of the vine which have been -allowed to dry. Death is even swifter in the withered cigars of the -poplar. As for the cylinders of the alder, in the absence of a -sufficient number of leaves, I was not able to estimate their -inhabitants’ powers of endurance. - -Of the four leaf-rollers, the one most threatened by drought is that of -the oak. Her barrel falls and lies on a soil which is extremely arid -except at times of rain; moreover, because of its small dimensions, it -dries right through at the first touch of the sun. - -The ground is equally dry in the vineyard; but there is shade under the -branches, and the generous cigar is thick enough to retain in its -central part, far better than the slender barrel does, a little of the -moisture indispensable to the grub. In respect of prolonged abstinence, -the Vine-weevil cannot be compared with the barrel-maker; still less -can the Poplar-weevil. For this last, more often than otherwise, there -is no danger from drought, despite the smallness of the cylinder, a -sorry rat’s-tail. This roll usually falls by the side of a ditch, on -the moist soil of the meadows. The exploiter of the alder is hardly in -danger either: at the foot of her tree, a lover of the trickling -brooks, she finds the coolness needed to keep her food-cylinder in good -condition. But, when she exploits the hazel-bush, I do not know what -conditions help her out of her difficulty. - -Lately the newspapers, which noisily echo every piece of absurdity, -have been making a certain fuss about the gastric feats of a few poor -devils who, to earn their bread, have fasted for thirty or forty days. -As in most stunts, admirers were found, ready to encourage those -wretched competitions. - -Now here is something far better, ye snobbish upholders of abstinence! -A trivial beastie, not celebrated by the newspapers, a grub born the -day before yesterday, takes a few mouthfuls; then, finding its victuals -too dry, it eats no more for four months or longer. And this is not the -result of sickly languor: the creature fasts in spite of the extreme -appetite of youth, when, more than ever, the stomach demands a copious -diet. The Rotifer, [46] which for a whole season lies lifeless and -desiccated in the mosses of its home, begins to whirl round again when -placed in a drop of water. The grub of the Attelabus, lying near to -death for four or five months, recovers its liveliness and eats like a -glutton if I moisten its bread for it. What can life be, capable of -such intermissions? - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE SLOE-WEEVIL - - -No less skilled than the Vine- and Poplar-weevils in the art of -leaf-rolling, the Attelabus and the Apoderus have shown us that, in -spite of a dissimilar equipment, the industry may remain the same; they -have proved that similarity of aptitude is compatible with diversity of -organization. Conversely, different trades may be followed with the -same tools; identity of form does not imply equivalence of instinct. - -Who tells us this? Who puts forward this subversive proposition? The -Sloe-weevil (Rhynchites auratus, Scop.) has the audacity to do so. - -Rivalling the exploiters of the vine and poplar in metallic lustre, she -possesses, exactly as they do, a curved awl which one would say was -meant for puncturing the stalk of a leaf and then fastening the edges -of the rolled portion; her figure is short and squat, adapted, so it -seems to me, to working in the narrow crease of a fold; she has spiked -sandals which give her a firm hold on slippery surfaces. Any one -acquainted with the cigar-makers has but to see her to call her -straightway by the same generic name. The nomenclators have made no -mistake; they are unanimous in styling her a Rhynchites. Judging the -trade by the worker’s looks, we do not hesitate: we set down this third -Rhynchites as a rival of the others, we class her in the leaf-rollers’ -guild. - -Well, in this case, we are thoroughly deceived by outward appearances; -we are taken in by an identity of structure. In her habits, the -Rhynchites of the Sloe has nothing in common with the two with whom she -is associated by her classification, which is based solely on the -peculiarities of her form. What is more, until she is seen at work, no -one would suspect her calling. She exploits the fruit of the sloe -exclusively; her grub’s ration is the tiny kernel and its lodging the -small stone of the sloe. - -So, unskilled in the trade of her fellows, without any change in her -tools, the kinswoman of the cigar-makers becomes a driller of caskets; -with the same bodkin that serves her relatives for fastening the last -layer of a leaf-roll, she hollows a little cup in the surface of a -shell hard as ivory. The tool that is able to roll a flexible sheet now -wears away the invincible and works like a digger’s pick-axe. And -stranger still: when it has finished its arduous piece of carving, it -sets up above the egg a little miracle whose exquisite delicacy we -shall have occasion to admire. - -The grub amazes me no less. It changes its diet. When a denizen of the -vine and the poplar, it eats a leaf; when a denizen of the sloe, it -takes to starchy food. It changes its means of liberation. When they -have attained their full growth and the moment comes for them to go -underground, the first two have nothing in front of them but a yielding -obstacle, the surface layer of the leafy sheath, softened and wasted by -decay; the third, like the Nut-weevil, has to pierce a wall of -exceptional strength. - -What singular contrasts might we not discover in facts of this kind, if -we were better-acquainted with the habits of the Rhynchites group? A -fourth example is familiar to me (R. Bacchus, Lin.). Identical in shape -with the manufacturers of cigars and the exploiters of fruit-stones, -worthy, indeed, in all respects of the name of Rhynchites, what does -this Weevil do? Does she roll leaves? No. Does she install her grub in -the casket of a kernel? No. - -Her trade is a very simple one, for her method is confined to inserting -her eggs, here, there and everywhere, in the still green flesh of the -apricot. Here there is no difficulty to overcome, and consequently no -art to be displayed by either mother or grub. The rostrum sinks into a -material which offers but a slight resistance; the egg is let down to -the bottom of the wound; and that is all. The establishment of the -family is a most summary proceeding; it reminds us of the practice of -the Larini. - -The grub, for its part, has no need for talents of any sort. What would -it do with them? It feeds on the pulp of the fruit, which soon falls to -the ground and is reduced to a jelly. Life is easy in these liquescent -surroundings; the infant is bathed in fermenting pap. When the time -comes for it to take refuge in the subsoil, the jam-sodden grub has no -veil to tear, no wall to break through: the flesh of the apricot has -become a pinch of brown dust. - -In the old days, the Anthidia, [47] partly weavers of cotton, partly -kneaders of resin, set me a difficult problem. Later came the -Dung-beetles of the pampas, the Phanæi, [48] some preparing, as -preserved foodstuff, cakes of Cow-dung modelled in the shape of a pear, -others sausage-meat kept fresh in clay jars. Both suggested the same -difficulty: can habits and industries which have no mutual connection -be explained as soon as we accept a common origin for these different -manufacturers, who moreover are so much alike in conformation? The -question crops up again, more urgently, with the four Rhynchites. - -That the influence of environment may, to some extent, have caused -external modifications; that the light may have accentuated the -colouring; that the quantity of the food may have brought about some -small variation in size; that a warm or cold climate may have thinned -or thickened the fur: all these changes and many others besides I -willingly concede, if that will give any one any pleasure; but, for -pity’s sake, let us take higher ground than this, do not let us reduce -the world of the living to a collection of digestive tubes, an -assortment of bellies that fill and empty themselves. - -Let us reflect upon the masterly touch that sets the whole animal -machine in motion; let us question the instincts, the controllers of -form; let us remember that glorious expression of the ancients, mens -agitat molem; and we shall understand the inextricable difficulty that -besets the theorists when they wish to explain how it is that of four -insects, as much alike in shape as so many drops of water, two roll -leaves, another carves fruit-stones, and the fourth profits by the pulp -of a rotten fruit. - -If they are affiliated to one another, if they are indeed related, as -their so strongly-marked family-resemblance would seem to affirm, which -of them was the first of the line? Could it be the leaf-roller? - -No one, unless he be content with idle fancies, will admit that the -cigar-roller can have tired of her cylinder one day and proceeded, as a -crazy innovator, to make a hole in the casket of a fruit-stone. Such -dissimilar industries do not suggest mutual connection. The first -leaf-rollers, never knowing any lack of leaves, may perhaps have gone -from one tree to others more or less like it; but to give up the art of -leaf-rolling, so easy to acquire, and to become, when nothing compelled -them to, strenuous nibblers of hard wood: that would have been idiotic. -No acceptable reason would explain the desertion of the original trade. -Such follies are unknown in the insect world. - -The exploiter of the sloe refuses in her turn to acknowledge herself as -inspiring the cigar-maker: - -‘What, I!’ she says, ‘I, give up my little blue plum, so savoury in its -tartness! I, a chaser of goblets, abandon my chisel and, in a moment of -madness, become a folder of leaves! What do you take me for? My grub -dotes on the floury kernel; confronted with any other fare, above all -with the meagre, tasteless roll of my colleague of the poplar, it would -let itself die of hunger. So long as sloes or kindred fruits have -existed, my race, thriving upon them, has never committed the folly of -forsaking them in favour of a leaf. So long as they exist, we shall -remain faithful to them; and, if ever they fail us, we shall perish to -the last grub.’ - -The lover of the apricot is no less positive. She, who is so easy to -establish in soft pulp, has taken good care not to advise her children -to undertake the laborious task of perforating a shell or rolling a -leaf into a cigar. According to the locality and the abundance of the -fruit, her boldest innovation has been to pass from the apricot to the -plum, the peach, or even the cherry. But how are we to admit that these -lovers of fruit-pulp, well satisfied with their rich living, which has -always been possible, in the old days and to-day alike, can ever have -risked leaving the soft for the hard, the juicy for the dry, the easy -for the difficult? - -None of these four is the head of the line. Is the common ancestor then -an unknown species, dumped down, perhaps, in the schist-foliations -whose venerable archives we began by consulting? Even if he were there, -we should be none the wiser. The library of the stones preserves the -forms but not the instincts; it says nothing of industries, because, -let us repeat and again repeat, the insect’s tool tells us nothing of -its trade. With the same rostrum the Weevil may follow very different -callings. - -What the ancestor of the Rhynchites did we do not know and have no hope -of ever knowing. The theorists, therefore, take their stand only on the -vague and slippery ground of suppositions: - -‘Let us admit,’ they say, ‘let us imagine that ... it might be that -...’ and so forth. - -My dearly-beloved theorists, this is a most convenient means of -arriving at any conclusion we like. With a bunch of nicely-selected -hypotheses, I will undertake, though no subtle logician, to prove to -you that white is black and that darkness is light. - -I am too fond of tangible, indisputable truths; I will not follow you -in your sophistical suppositions. I want genuine facts, well-observed, -scrupulously-tested facts. Now what can you tell us of the genesis of -the instincts? Nothing and again nothing and always nothing. - -You think that you have raised a monument of Cyclopæan blocks, and all -that you have built is a house of cards which tumbles to pieces before -the breath of reality. The real Rhynchites—not the imaginary one, but -the insect which any one can observe and question at will—ventures to -tell you so, in her artless sincerity. - -She tells you: - -‘My manufactures, which are so contrary, cannot be derived one from -another. Our talents are not the legacy of a common ancestress, for, to -leave us such a heritage, the original initiator would have had to be -versed at one and the same time in arts which are mutually -incompatible: that of leaf-rolling, that of piercing fruit-stones and -that of jam-making, to say nothing of the rest, which you don’t yet -know. If she was not capable of doing everything, she must, at least, -in course of time, have given up a first trade and learnt a second, -then a third, then a host of others, the knowledge of which is reserved -for future observers. Well, to practise several industries at the same -time, or even, from specializing in one department, to begin -specializing in some other, quite different department: on my word as a -Rhynchites, all this would seem madness to an animal.’ - -Thus speaks the Weevil. Let me complete her statement. As the instincts -of the three industrial guilds whose history is here related cannot in -any way be referred to a common origin, the corresponding Rhynchites, -despite their extreme similarity of structure, cannot be ramifications -of the same stock. Each race is an independent medal, struck from a -special die in the workshop of forms and aptitudes. What will it be -then when dissimilarity of form is added to dissimilarity of instincts? - -But enough of philosophizing. Let us make the closer acquaintance of -the Sloe-weevil. At the end of July, fattened to a nicety, the grub -leaves its plum-stone and descends into the ground. With its back and -forehead it presses back the surrounding dust and makes itself a -spherical recess, slightly reinforced with a glue furnished by the -builder, to prevent the earth from falling in. Similar preparations for -nymphosis and hibernation are made by the Vine-weevil and the -Poplar-weevil; but these are more forward in their development. Before -September is over, most of them have achieved the adult form. I see -them glittering in the sand of my jars like living nuggets. These -golden globules foresee the rapidly approaching winter: as a rule they -do not stir from their underground quarters. However, enticed by the -hot sunlight, the last of the year, a few Poplar-weevils come up into -the open air to see what the weather is like. At the first breath of -the north-wind, these venturesome ones will take refuge under the -strips of dead bark; perhaps they will even perish. - -The guest of the sloe is not in such a hurry. Autumn is drawing to a -close; and my buried captives are still in the larval state. What -matters this delay? They will all be ready when the beloved bush is -covered with blossom. By May, in point of fact, the insect abounds on -the sloes. - -This is the time of careless revelry. The fruit is still too small, -with its stone not set and its kernel a transparent jelly; it would not -suit the grub, but it makes a feast for the adult, who, with an -imperceptible movement, without any twisting of the boring-tool, sinks -her drill into the pulp, drives it half-way down, holds it there -motionless and drinks ecstatically. The juice of the sloe pours over -the edge of the well. - -This affection for the sour sloe is not exclusive. In my breeding-jars, -even when the regulation fruit is there, Rhynchites auratus very -readily accepts the green cherry and also the orchard plum, as yet -hardly the size of an olive. She refuses absolutely, though they are as -round and as small as sloes, the fruits of the mahaleb cherry, or -Sainte-Lucie cherry, a wilding frequent in the thickets of the -neighbourhood. She finds their drug-like flavour repellent. - -When the egg is at stake, I cannot induce the mother to accept the -cultivated plum. In time of dearth, the ordinary cherry seems to be -less repugnant. Whereas the mother’s stomach is satisfied with any sort -of astringent pulp, the grub’s clamours for a sweet kernel in a small -casket which does not offer too much resistance. That of the cherry, -seasoned with prussic acid and rather bitter, is accepted only with -hesitation; that of the plum, contained in a stone whose strong walls -would oppose too great an obstacle first to the entry and then to the -exit of the grub, is absolutely disdained. Therefore the pregnant -mother, thoroughly versed in her household affairs, refuses for her -family any stone fruit other than the sloe. - -Let us watch her at work. During the first fortnight of June, the -egg-laying is in full swing. At this period the sloes begin to assume a -purple hue. They are hard, about as large as a pea, which is not far -from their final size. The stone is woody and resists the knife; the -kernel has acquired consistency. - -The fruits attacked show two kinds of pit, turned brown by the decayed -tissues. Some, the more numerous, are shallow funnels nearly always -filled up with a drop of hardened gum. At these points the insect has -simply made a meal and has not gone deeper than about half the -thickness of the pulpy layer. Later, the exudations from the wound have -filled the cavity with a gummy plug. - -The other cavities, which are wider and form irregular polygons, -penetrate to the stone. The opening measures nearly four millimetres; -[49] and the walls, instead of slanting like those of the food-pits, -rise vertically from the exposed stone. Let us note yet another detail -whose importance we shall see presently: it is rare to find any gum in -them, though the other cavities usually contain it. These pits, which -are free from obstruction, are family establishments. I count two, -three, four on the same sloe; sometimes only one. Very often they are -accompanied, where the Weevil has fed, by funnel-shaped surface -erosions. - -The larger pits descending to the stone form a sort of irregular -crater, in the centre of which there is always a little cone of brown -pulp. Not infrequently the magnifying-glass reveals a fine perforation -at the top of this central cone; at other times the orifice is closed, -but in a careless fashion, which makes one suspect a connection with -the depths below. - -Cut this cone down the axis. At its base is a tiny hemispherical cup -hollowed in the thickness of the stone. Here, on a bed of fine dust due -to the work of erosion, lies a yellow egg, oval and about a millimetre -[50] long. Above the egg, like a protecting roof, rises the cone of -brown pulp, pierced throughout its length by a fine channel, which is -sometimes free and sometimes half obstructed. - -The structure of the work tells us how the operation is conducted. In -the fleshy layer of the sloe the mother, eating the substance, or -discarding it if there be more than her appetite calls for, first makes -a pit with perpendicular walls and lays a suitable surface of the stone -absolutely bare. Then, in the centre of this area, she chases with her -graver a little cup sinking half-way through the thickness of the -shell. Here, on a soft bed of raspings, the egg is laid. Lastly, as a -defensive device, the mother erects above the cup and its contents a -pointed roof, a cone of pulp obtained from the walls of the pit. - -The insect works very well in captivity, if given plenty of space, -sunlight and a twig covered with sloes. It is easy to watch the -proceedings of the egg-laying mother; but the result of diligent -observation amounts to very little. - -Almost the whole day, the mother remains clinging to one spot on the -fruit, motionless, with her rostrum driven into the pulp. As a rule, -there is no movement on her part, nothing to betray any effort. - -From time to time a male visits her, climbs on her back, throws his -legs around her and, himself swaying from side to side, rocks her very -gently to and fro. Without permitting herself to be diverted from her -serious labours, the female thus embraced passively yields to the -rolling motion. Perhaps it is a means of whiling away the long hours -needed for establishing an egg. - -To see more than this is very difficult. The rostrum does its work in -the hidden seclusion of the pulp and, as the pit opens and widens, the -digger covers it with the fore-part of her body. The hollow is ready. -The mother withdraws and turns round. For a moment I catch a glimpse of -the bare stone at the bottom of the crater, with a tiny cup in the -centre of the denuded area. As soon as the egg is laid in this cup, the -insect turns round again and nothing more is visible until the work is -completed. - -How does the pregnant mother contrive to raise above the egg a -protective heap, a cone, an obelisk somewhat irregular in shape, but -very curious with its narrow ventilating-shaft? Above all, how does she -manage to make this communicating passage in the soft mass? These are -details which we can scarcely hope to detect, so discreetly does the -insect work. We must be content to know that the rostrum alone, without -the aid of the legs, digs the crater and erects the central cone. - -In the heat of June, less than a week is enough for the hatching. By -good fortune, solicited, so far as that goes, by attempts that come -near to exhausting my small stock of patience, I witness an interesting -sight. I have a new-born grub before my eyes. It has just cast the skin -of the egg; it is very busily wriggling in its powdery cup. Why so much -excitement? For this reason: to reach the kernel, its ration, the tiny -creature has to finish the pit and turn it into an entrance-window. - -A stupendous task for a speck of albumen. But this feeble speck boasts -a set of carpenter’s tools; its mandibles, a pair of fine chisels, -received the necessary temper while their owner was still in the egg. -The grub sets to work immediately. By the following day, through a tiny -aperture which would hardly admit the point of a fair-sized needle, it -has entered into the promised land and is in possession of the kernel. - -Another stroke of luck partly tells me the use of the central cone -pierced chimney-fashion. The mother, while sinking the pit in the flesh -of the sloe, drinks the juices that ooze out and eats the pulp. This is -the most direct manner of getting rid of the refuse without -interrupting her work. When she is digging in the surface of the stone, -the cup intended to receive the egg, she leaves in place the fine dust -resulting from her labours, an excellent material as bedding for the -egg but useless as food. - -And what does the maggot in its turn do with its sawdust as it deepens -the pit in order to reach the kernel? To scatter the rubbish round -about is impossible: there is no room; to put it away in its stomach is -even less feasible: it cannot make its first mouthfuls of this dry -flour while waiting for the milk-food of a kernel. - -The new-born grub has a better method. With a few heaves of its back, -it thrusts the litter of rubbish outside, through the chimney in the -cone. I have indeed caught sight of a white, powdery speck at the top -of the central cone. This tunnelled cone therefore is a lift which -carries away the rubbish of the excavation. - -But the use of the curious building cannot be limited to this: the -ever-thrifty insect has not gone to the pains of building a tall, -hollow obelisk with the sole object of preparing a thoroughfare for the -atoms of dust that hamper the grub in its labours. The same result -could be obtained with less trouble; and the Weevil is too sensible to -construct the complex when the single would suffice. Let us look at -things more closely. - -Evidently the egg, laid in a cup on the surface of the stone, needs a -protecting roof. Moreover, the grub, which will presently be working at -the bottom of its cup to reach the kernel, will require a refuse-shoot -in its restricted quarters. A small, shallow dome, with a window to get -rid of the sweepings, would, it seems, fulfil all the requisite -conditions. Then why the luxury of this pyramidal chimney which rises -to the topmost level of the pit, as a cone in eruption rises in the -centre of a volcanic crater? - -The craters in the sloes have their lava, that is, their flow of gum, -which trickles from the various points injured and then hardens into -blocks. This flood stops up every hole at which the insect has merely -fed. The large pits with the central cones, on the other hand, have no -gum or show only a few scanty drops of it on their walls. - -The mother, it is obvious, has taken certain precautions to defend the -home of the egg against the inroads of the gum. In the first place, she -has enlarged the cavity to keep the egg at a due distance from the -treacherous wall oozing with viscidity; she has moreover dug the pulp -down to the stone and has thoroughly stripped a perfectly clean surface -from which nothing dangerous can now exude. - -This is not yet enough: though distant and rising perpendicularly from -the stripped area, the walls of the pit still give cause for alarm. In -some sloes under certain conditions, they will perhaps yield a -superabundance of gum. The only means of averting the danger is to -raise above the egg a barricade as high as the brink of the crater and -capable of arresting the flow. This is the reason for the central cone. -If there is a copious eruption, the gum will fill the ringed space, but -at least it will not cover the spot where the egg lies. The tall, -insubmersible obelisk is therefore almost ingeniously-contrived -defensive structure. - -This obelisk is hollow along its axis. We have seen it serving as a -lift for the rubbish which the young grub throws out when deepening its -natal basin and converting it into a passage which gives access to the -kernel. But this is a very secondary function; it has another of -greater importance. - -Every egg breathes. In its cup with the sawdust mattress, the Weevil’s -egg needs a supply of air, a very moderate supply, no doubt, but it -must have some. Through the passage in its conical roof the air reaches -it and is renewed, even if bad luck has filled the crater with gum. - -Every living creature breathes. The maggot has entered the stone of the -fruit by making an opening such as our finest drills could not equal -for precision. It is now in a sealed casket, an air-tight barrel, -tarred, moreover, with gummy pulp. Yet it must have air, even more than -the egg. - -Well, ventilation is effected by the shaft which the grub has driven -through the thickness of the stone. However tiny the air-hole, it is -big enough provided it be not clogged. There is no need to fear -anything of the sort, even with an excess of gum. Above the ventilator -rises the defensive cone, continuing, by means of its tunnel, the -communication with the outer world. - -I wanted to know how anchorites more vigorous than the hermit of the -sloe would behave in an exceedingly limited and renewable atmosphere. I -must have them in the period of repose which precedes the -metamorphosis. The insect has then completed its growth; it is no -longer feeding; it is almost inert. It is living as cheaply as it can -and may be compared with a germinating seed. Its need of air is reduced -to the lowest possible limit. - -Indifferent as to choice, I use what I have within reach and first of -all the larvæ of the Brachycerus, the Weevil that feeds on garlic. A -week ago they abandoned their cloves and went down into the earth, -where, motionless in their hollows, they are making ready for the -transformation. I place six of them in a glass tube, sealed at one end -by the blow-pipe. I divide them one from the other by means of cork -partitions, so as to allow each a cell comparable in capacity with the -natural lodging. Thus stocked, the tube receives a first-rate cork -covered with a layer of sealing-wax. It is absolutely closed. No -gaseous exchanges are possible between the inside and the outside; and -each larva is strictly limited to the small quantity of atmosphere -which I have meted out to it approximately, according to the capacity -of the underground cells. - -Similar tubes are prepared, some with Cetonia-grubs taken from the -shells in which they were awaiting metamorphosis and others with nymphs -of the same species. What will become of these various prisoners, whose -life is latent, suspended, demanding a minimum of ventilation? - -The sight that greets my eyes a fortnight later is conclusive. My tubes -contain only a horrible mess of corpses. Evaporation was impossible; no -fresh air came to cleanse the premises and vivify the larvæ and nymphs; -and all have perished, all have become putrid. - -The casket of the sloe, despite its air-tight condition, is not so -close a receptacle as my glass prisons. Gaseous exchanges are effected, -since the kernel, itself a living body, continues to thrive. But what -suffices to maintain the life of a seed must be insufficient for the -much more active life of the insect. The larva of the Weevil, during -the few weeks which it spends nibbling its kernel, would thus be in -great jeopardy if it had no other resources for breathing than the air -in the sloe-stone, so limited in quantity and so scantily renewed. - -Everything seems to prove that if the air-hole, the work of its chisel, -were to be plugged with a drop of gum, the recluse would perish, or at -least drag out a languishing existence and would be incapable of -migrating underground at the proper time. This suspicion is worth -confirming. - -I therefore prepare a handful of sloes; I myself bring about what would -have happened naturally but for the mother’s precautions. I deluge the -crater and its central cone with a drop of thick solution of gum -arabic. My sticky preparation takes the place of the product of the -sloe-bush. The drop hardens; I add others until the top of the cone -disappears in the thickness of the varnish. As for the rest of the -fruit, I leave it as it was. - -This done, let us wait, but leave the sloes in the open air, as they -are, on the bush. There the gummy concretions will not grow soft—which -would not fail to happen in a glass jar—merely by means of the moisture -supplied by the fruits themselves. - -By the end of July, the sloes left in their natural state give me the -first emigrants; the exodus goes on through part of August. The means -of exit is a round hole, very cleanly cut, similar to that made by the -Nut-weevil. Just like the grub of the last-named, the emigrant passes -itself through the draw-plate and releases itself by a feat of -gymnastics in which it dilates the part of the body already extracted -with the humours forced out of the part still imprisoned. - -The exit-door is sometimes one with the narrow entrance; more often it -is beside it; but it is never, absolutely never, outside the bare space -that forms the bottom of the crater. The grub seems to loathe finding -the soft pulp of the sloe in front of its mandibles. Admirably adapted -for chiselling hard wood, the tool would perhaps become clogged in a -sticky mess. This needs a spoon to remove it, not a gouge. At all -events, the exit is always made at some point of the floor thoroughly -cleaned by the mother, where there is neither gum nor fleshy pulp to -hamper the proper working of the tool. - -What is happening at the same time with the gummy sloes? Nothing -whatever. I wait a month: nothing yet. I wait two, three, four months: -nothing, still nothing. Not a grub comes out of my prepared sloes. At -last, in December, I decide to see what has been going on inside. I -crack the stones whose air-holes I have blocked with gum. - -Most of them contain a dead maggot, which has dried up while quite -young. Some hide a live larva, well developed, but lacking in strength. -You can see that the creature has suffered not from want of food, for -the kernel is almost entirely consumed, but from another unsatisfied -need. Lastly, a small number show me a live grub and an exit-hole made -in the regular manner. These lucky ones, immured by the gum perhaps -when they were already full-grown, had the strength to perforate the -casket; but, finding on top of the wood the hateful varnish, which is -the result of my perfidy, they obstinately refused to bore any farther. -The gummy barrier stopped them short; and it is not their habit to seek -their freedom in another direction. Away from the bare floor, the -bottom of the crater, they would infallibly come upon the pulp, which -is no less detestable than the gum. In short, of the collection of -larvæ subjected to my stratagems, not one has thriven; the sealing with -gum has been fatal to them. - -This result puts an end to my hesitations: the cone set up in the -centre of the pit is necessary to the existence of the grub sequestered -in the stone. Its tunnel is a ventilating-shaft. - -Each species certainly possesses its peculiar method of maintaining a -connection with the outside world, when the larva lives under -conditions in which the renewal of the air would be too difficult or -even impossible if no precautions were taken. Generally, a fissure, a -corridor, more or less unobstructed and the usual work of the grub, is -enough to ventilate the dwelling. Sometimes it is the mother herself -who sees to these hygienic requirements; and then the method employed -is strikingly ingenious. While on this subject, let us recall the -wonderful devices of the Dung-beetles. - -The Sacred Beetle models her grub’s loaf in the form of a pear; the -Spanish Copris [51] shapes it like an egg. It is compact, homogeneous -and as air-tight as stucco-work. To breathe in these lodgings would -unquestionably be a very difficult thing; but the danger is provided -against. Look at the small end of the pear and the top of the ovoid. -After ever so little reflection, you will be seized with surprise and -admiration. - -There—and there only—you will see, not the air-tight paste of the rest -of the work, but a stringy plug, a disk of coarse velvet bristling with -tiny fibres, a round piece of loosely-made felt through which the -gaseous exchanges can be effected. A filter takes the place of the -solid material. The mere appearance is enough to tell us the function -of this part. If doubts occurred to our minds, here is something to -dispel them: I cover the fibrous expanse with several coats of varnish; -I deprive the filter of its porousness, without interfering with any -other part. Now let us see what happens. When the time comes for the -emergence, with the first autumn rains, let us break open the pills. -They contain nothing but shrivelled corpses. - -An egg is killed if you varnish it: when placed under the sitting Hen -it remains a lifeless pebble. The chicken has died in the germ. So -perish the Sacred Beetle, the Copris and the rest when we varnish the -circular disk of felt which acts as a ventilator. - -This method of the porous plug is recognized as being so efficacious -that it is in general use among the pill-makers of the remotest -regions. The Splendid Phanæus and Bolbites onitoides, both from Buenos -Aires, [52] employ it as zealously as the Dung-beetles of Provence. - -One of the dwellers in the pampas uses another process, prescribed by -the material which she manipulates. This is Phanæus Milon, a ceramic -artist and meat-packer. With very fine clay she fashions a gourd in the -middle of which she places a round meat-pie made from the sanies of a -corpse. The grub for which these victuals are intended hatches in an -upper story, separated from the larder by a clay partition. - -How will this grub breathe, first in its cell upstairs and then in the -lower room, when it has perforated the floor and reached the cold -pasty? The house is a piece of pottery, an earthenware jar whose wall -sometimes measures a finger’s-breadth in thickness. Air cannot possibly -pass through such a casing. The mother, who knew this, made -arrangements accordingly. Along the gourd’s neck she contrived a narrow -passage through which a flow of air is possible. Without resorting to -obstruction by means of varnish or anything else, we see quite plainly -that this minute tunnel is a ventilating-shaft. - -Exposed on her fruit to the danger from the gum, the Weevil excels the -meat-packer of the pampas in her delicate precautions. Over the spot -where the egg lies, she raises an obelisk, the equivalent of the -gourd’s neck in the work of the Phanæus; to give the germ air, she -leaves the axis of the nipple hollow, as does the potter. In either -case, the new-born grub has a tough job to begin with: in the one it -chisels the fruit-stone; in the other it pierces the earthenware -partition. And now both have reached their goal: the first its kernel, -the second its meat-pie. Behind them they have left a round port-hole -which continues the tunnel made by the mother. Thus communication -between the inside of the establishment and the outer atmosphere is -assured. - -The comparison cannot be carried farther, so greatly does the ingenuity -of the Rhynchites, in danger of being stifled by the gum, surpass that -of the other Beetle, who is perfectly safe in his clay pot. The Weevil -has to reckon with the terrible exudations which threaten to submerge -and stifle her larva. The mother, therefore, in the first place, builds -up the defensive cone, the ventilating-shaft, to a height which the -gummy flood will not reach; then, around this rampart of fruit-pulp, -she makes a wide moat which keeps at a distance the wall sweating the -dangerous substance. If the eruption is too violent, the viscous fluid -will collect in the crater without imperilling the breathing-hole. - -If the Rhynchites and her competitors in means of defence against the -dangers of asphyxia have taught themselves their trade by degrees, by -passing from an unsuccessful to another, more satisfactory method; if -they are really the creatures of their achievements, do not let us -hesitate, though we deal a blow to our self-conceit: let us recognize -them as engineers capable of teaching a lesson to our own graduates; -let us acclaim the microcephalous Weevil as a powerful thinker, a -wonderful inventor. - -You dare not go to that length; you prefer to appeal to the hazards of -chance. But what a wretched resource is chance when we are considering -such rational contrivances! As well throw the letters of the alphabet -up in the air and expect them to form a given line of a poem as they -fall! - -Instead of bamboozling our minds with such tortuous conceptions, how -much simpler, and above all how much more truthful, to say: - -‘Matter is governed by a sovereign order.’ - -This is what the Sloe-weevil, in her humble way, tells us. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE EGGS - - -Man holds the pea in high esteem. Ever since the days of antiquity, he -has tried, by devoting greater and greater attention to its -cultivation, to make it produce larger, tenderer, and sweeter -varieties. The adaptable plant, gently entreated, has complied with his -desires and has ended by giving us what the gardener’s ambition aimed -at obtaining. How far we moderns have progressed beyond the crop of the -Varros [53] and Columellas, [54] how far, above all, beyond the -original peas, beyond the wild seeds confided to the soil by the first -man who thought of scraping the earth, maybe with a jaw-bone of the -Cave-bear, [55] whose mighty canine did duty as a ploughshare! - -Where is this plant, the first source of the pea, in the world of -spontaneous vegetation? Our regions possess nothing like it. Is it to -be found elsewhere? On this point botany is silent, or replies only -with vague probabilities. - -For that matter, the same ignorance prevails on the subject of most of -our edible plants. Whence comes wheat, the blessed grain that gives us -bread? No one knows. Except in the fields tilled by man, you need not -look for it in this country. You need not look for it abroad either. In -the East, where agriculture had its birth, no botanist ever came across -the sacred ear increasing of its own accord on ground not broken by the -plough. - -Barley, oats and rye, the turnip and the radish, the beet, the carrot, -the pumpkin leave us in a like uncertainty: their origin is unknown, or -at most suspected behind the impenetrable mist of the ages. Nature -delivered them to us in the full vigour of things untamed, when they -were of little value as food, as she nowadays offers us the wild -blackberry and the sloe; she gave them to us in a rudimentary and -incomplete state; and it was for our husbandry and ingenuity patiently -to hoard the nutritive pulp, that earliest form of capital, with -dividends always increasing in the most excellent bank of the tiller of -the soil. - -As storehouses of provisions, the cereal and the garden vegetable are, -for the most part, the work of man. The founders of the species, a poor -resource in their original condition, we borrowed as we found them from -nature’s green treasury; the improved race, rich in nourishing matter, -is the result of our art. - -But, if wheat, peas and the rest are indispensable to us, our care, in -fair exchange, is absolutely necessary to their maintenance. Such as -our needs have made them, incapable of resistance in the savage -conflict of living things, these plants, if left to themselves, without -cultivation, would rapidly disappear, despite the numerical immensity -of their seeds, even as the silly Sheep would shortly disappear were -there no sheepfolds. - -They are our work, but not always our exclusive property. Wherever food -is amassed, consumers flock from the four corners of the sky; they -invite themselves to the copious feast; and, the richer the victuals, -the greater their numbers. Man, who alone is capable of provoking -agrarian luxuriance, becomes by this very fact the giver of an immense -banquet whereat legions of guests take their places. By creating more -palatable and more generous victuals, he willy-nilly summons to his -granaries thousands and thousands of famished creatures against whose -teeth his prohibitions battle in vain. The more he produces, the larger -tribute he has to pay. Big crops and sumptuous hoards favour the -insects, our rivals as consumers. - -It is the prevailing law. Nature offers her mighty breast with equal -zeal to all her children, to those who live by others’ goods no less -than to the producers. For us who plough and sow and reap, wearing -ourselves out with toil, she ripens the wheat; she ripens it also for -the little Corn-weevil, who, though exempted from the labour of the -fields, will nevertheless settle in our granaries and with her pointed -beak nibble the heap of corn, grain by grain, to the husk. For us who -dig and weed and water, bent with fatigue and burnt by the heat of the -day, nature swells the pea-pods; she swells them also for the -Pea-weevil, who, doing no gardener’s work, will all the same take her -share of the crop at her own time, when the earth is joyful with the -new life of spring. - -Let us watch the actions of this zealous tax-collector, who levies her -tithes in green peas. I, a well-meaning rate-payer, will let her have -her way: it is precisely for her benefit that I have sown a few rows of -the beloved plant in my enclosure. With no other invitation from me -than this modest seed-plot, she arrives punctually in the course of -May. She has learnt that in this stony soil, unfitted for -market-gardening, peas are flourishing for the first time. And she has -hastened thither to exercise her privileges as an entomological -revenue-officer. - -Whence does she come? It is impossible to say exactly. She has come -from some refuge or other where she has spent the winter in a state of -torpor. The plane-tree, which strips itself of its own initiative -during the heat of summer, furnishes excellent shelters for homeless -paupers under its patches of loose-hanging bark. I have often found our -Pea-thief in one of these winter sanctuaries. Sheltered under the dead -covering of the plane, or otherwise protected while the winter raged, -she woke from her slumbers at the first kisses of a kindly sun. The -almanac of the instincts has taught her; she knows as well as the -gardener when the peas are in flower, and she comes to her plant more -or less from every direction, ambling at a slow pace, but swift in -flight. - -A small head, a slender snout, a dress of ashen grey sprinkled with -brown, flat wing-cases, a squat thick-set figure, with two large black -dots on the flat of the tail: there you have a rough sketch of my -visitor. The vanguard arrives by the end of the first fortnight in May. - -The Weevils settle on the flowers, which are like so many white -Butterflies’ wings: I see some installed at the foot of the upper -petal, I see some hidden in the casket of the keel. Others, more -numerous these, explore the blossoms and take possession of them. The -laying-time has not yet come. It is a mild morning; the sun is hot -without being oppressive. This is the moment for nuptial exploits and -for raptures amid the splendour of the light. Life therefore is enjoyed -for a little while. Couples form, soon part and soon come together -again. When the heat grows too great, towards the middle of the day, -each Jack and Jill retire into the shade, in a fold of the flower whose -secret recesses they know so well. To-morrow they will resume the -festival and the next day too, until the pod, splitting the sheath of -its keel, appears outside, more and more swollen from day to day. - -A few pregnant mothers, harder-pressed than the rest, confide their -eggs to the growing pod, as it issues flat and tiny from its floral -scabbard. These eggs laid prematurely, pushed out perhaps through the -exigencies of an ovary which can wait no longer, seem to me in serious -danger. The seed in which the grub is to make its home is as yet but a -feeble granule, without substance and without floury contents. No -Weevil-larva would ever find an adequate meal there, unless by biding -its time until the seed ripened. - -But is the grub, once hatched, capable of long fasting? It is doubtful. -The little that I have seen tells me that the new-born larva begins -eating with all speed and, if it cannot do so, dies. I therefore regard -as lost the eggs laid upon immature pods. The prosperity of the race -will hardly suffer, thanks to the Weevil’s fertility. Moreover, we -shall see presently with what reckless prodigality she scatters her -germs, most of which are doomed to perish. - -The bulk of the mother’s work is finished by the end of May, when the -pods begin to bulge with protuberances revealing the pressure of the -peas, which have now attained their final size, or very nearly. I was -anxious to see the Bruchus at work, in her quality of a Curculio, which -is how she is classified. [56] The other Weevils are Rhynchophoræ, -beak-wearers, armed with a rod that prepares the hollow in which the -egg is laid. Our friend possesses only a short snout, which does -capitally for sipping a few sweet mouthfuls, but which is of no value -as a boring-tool. - -Therefore the method of installing the family is quite different. Here -we see no ingenious preparations, such as the Balanini, the Larini and -the Rhynchites showed us. Having no probe among her tools, the mother -scatters her eggs in the open, with no protection against the heat of -the sun or the inclemencies of the weather. Nothing could be simpler -and nothing more dangerous to the germs, in the absence of a special -constitution made to withstand the alternate trials of heat and cold, -drought and wet. - -In the mild sunshine of ten o’clock in the morning, the mother, with a -jerky, capricious, unmethodical step, runs up and down the chosen pod, -first on one and then on the other surface. She protrudes at every -instant a short oviscapt, which swings right and left as though to -scrape the skin. An egg follows and is abandoned as soon as laid. - -A hasty touch of the oviscapt, first here, then there, on the green -skin of the pea-pod; and that is all. The germ is left there, -unprotected, right in the sun. Nor is any choice of site made, to -assist the coming grub and shorten its quest when it has to make its -way unaided into the larder. There are eggs placed on the swellings -created by the peas; there are just as many in the barren dividing -valleys. It is for the grub to take its bearings accordingly. In short, -the Bruchus’ eggs are laid anyhow, as though sown on the wing. - -A more serious flaw: the number of eggs confided to one pod is not in -proportion to that of the peas contained in it. Let us first realize -that each grub needs a ration of one pea, an obligatory ration, amply -sufficient for the welfare of one larva, but not big enough for several -consumers, nor even for two. A pea for each grub, no more and no less, -is the invariable rule. - -Procreative economy would therefore demand that the mother, familiar -with the pod which she has just explored, should, when emitting her -germs, more or less limit their number to that of the peas which it -contains. Now there is no limit. To a single ration the impetuous -ovaries always offer a multiplicity of consumers. - -My notes are unanimous on this point. The number of eggs laid on a pod -always exceeds, and often in a scandalous fashion, the number of peas -available. However scanty the food-wallet may be, the guests are -superabundant. Dividing the number of eggs perceived on a given pod by -that of the peas inside it, I find from five to eight claimants for -each pea; I find as many as ten; and there is nothing to tell me that -the prodigality does not go farther still. Many are called, but few are -chosen! Why all these supernumeraries, who are necessarily excluded -from the banquet for want of space? - -The eggs are a fairly bright amber-yellow, cylindrical in form, smooth -and rounded at both ends. They are a millimetre long at most. [57] Each -of them is fixed to the pod by a thin network of threads of coagulated -albumen. Neither the rain nor the wind can loosen their hold. - -The mother often emits them two at a time, one above the other; often -also the uppermost of the pair succeeds in hatching, whereas the lower -fades and perishes. What did this latter lack, to produce a grub? A -sun-bath, perhaps, the gentle incubation of which the upper egg robs -it. Whether through the effect of the untimely screen that overshadows -it, or for some other reason, the elder of the eggs in a group of two -rarely follows the normal course. It withers on the pod, dead before it -has come to life. - -There are exceptions to this premature end. Sometimes the twin eggs -develop equally well; but these instances are so rare that the family -of the Bruchus would be reduced by nearly one-half if the binary system -were a fixed rule. To the detriment of the peas and to the Weevil’s -advantage there is one thing that lessens this destructive factor: the -eggs are laid one by one and in separate places. - -A recent hatching is marked by a whitish, winding little ribbon, which -raises and fades the skin of the pod near the sloughed egg-shell. It is -the work of the new-born larva and is a subcutaneous tunnel along which -the tiny creature wends its way in search of a point through which to -penetrate. When it has found this spot, the grub, measuring hardly a -millimetre and pale-bodied, with a black cap, pierces the outer wrapper -and dives into the capacious sheath of the pod. - -It reaches the peas and perches on the nearest. I watch it through the -magnifying-glass, exploring its globe, its world. It sinks a well at -right angles to the sphere. I see some which, half-way down, wriggle -their tails to stimulate their efforts. After a short spell of work, -the miner disappears and is at home. - -The entrance-hole is minute, but is easily recognized at any time by -its brown colouring against the pale-green or yellow-green background -of the pea. It has no fixed site; we see it more or less anywhere on -the surface of the pea, excepting generally on the lower half, that is -to say, the hemisphere whose pole is formed by the base of the -funicular cord. - -It is precisely in this part that the germ is found which will not be -consumed and will remain capable of developing into an embryo plant, in -spite of the large hole made by the adult insect in leaving. Why is -this portion left unscathed? What are the reasons that safeguard the -germ of the exploited seed? - -It goes without saying that the Bruchus does not consider the gardener. -The pea is meant for it and none other. In refusing to take the few -bites which would entail the death of the seed, it has no intention of -reducing the damage. It abstains from other motives. - -Remark that the peas touch at the sides, where they are pressed one -against the other. The grub seeking the point of attack cannot move -about at its ease. Remark also that the lower pole rests upon the -umbilical excrescence and opposes to any attempt at boring difficulties -which do not exist in the parts protected by the skin alone. It is even -possible that this umbilicus, which is differently organized, contains -special juices distasteful to the little larva. - -This, beyond a doubt, is the secret of the peas exploited by the -Bruchus and yet remaining fit to sprout. They are injured but not dead, -because they are invaded in the free hemisphere, the part which is at -the same time easier to enter and less easy to wound. Moreover, as the -whole pea is too much for a single grub, the loss of substance is -reduced to the piece preferred by the consumer; and this piece is not -the essential part of the pea. - -Given other conditions, with seeds either very small or exceedingly -large, we should see the results changing entirely. In the first case, -the germ would be gnawed like the remainder and would perish by the -tooth of the too niggardly served grub; in the second case, the -abundant food would allow of several guests. The common vetch and the -broad bean, exploited in the absence of the pea, tell us something in -this connection; the smaller seed, devoured all but the skin, is a ruin -whose germination we may expect in vain; the larger, on the contrary, -despite the Weevil’s numerous cells, is still capable of sprouting. - -Admitting that the number of eggs on the pod is always much greater -than that of the peas contained, and that, on the other hand, each pea -is the exclusive property of one grub, we wonder what becomes of the -surplus. Do these larvæ perish outside, when the more precocious have -taken their places one by one in the leguminous larder? Do they succumb -to the intolerant teeth of the early occupants? They do neither. Let us -set forth the facts. - -On all old peas, now dry, from which the adult Weevil has issued, -leaving a gaping hole, the magnifying-glass reveals a varying number of -fine, reddish-brown dots, perforated at the centre. What are these -spots, of which I count five or six or even more on a single pea? There -is no mistake possible: they are the entrance-points of so many grubs. -Several workers have therefore penetrated into the seed; and of the -whole gang only one has survived, waxed big and fat and attained the -adult age. And the others? We shall see. - -At the end of May and in June, during the laying-season, inspect the -still green and tender peas. Nearly all the seeds invaded show us the -multiple dots which we already observed on the dry peas abandoned by -the Weevils. Does this actually mean an assembly of guests? Yes. Skin -the aforesaid seeds, separate the seed-lobes, subdivide them if -necessary. We discover several larvæ, very young, bent into a bow, fat -and wriggling, each in a little round hollow in the heart of the -victuals. - -Peace and comfort seem to reign in the community. There is no -quarrelling, no jealous competition among neighbours. The eating has -begun, provisions are plentiful and the banqueters are separated from -one another by partitions formed by the as yet untouched portions of -the seed-lobes. With this isolation in separate cells, there is no fear -of squabbles; the guests will not bite one another, by accident or -intention. All the occupants enjoy the same rights of property, the -same appetite and the same strength. What will be the end of the -communal working? - -I split some peas which I have found to be well-stocked and place them -in a glass tube. I add others daily. This method keeps me informed of -the boarders’ progress. At first there is nothing special. Isolated in -its narrow recess, each grub nibbles around itself and eats frugally -and peacefully. It is still quite small; a speck of food surfeits it. -Nevertheless, a dish consisting of one pea cannot satisfy so large a -number until the end. Famine threatens; all save one must die. - -Soon indeed the aspect of things changes. One of the grubs, the one -occupying the central position in the pea, grows faster than the -others. He has hardly begun to be larger than his competitors when -these cease to eat and refrain from digging any farther. They lie -motionless and resigned; they die the gentle death which reaps -unconscious lives. They disappear, wasted away to nothing. They were so -tiny, the poor victims! Henceforth the whole pea belongs to the sole -survivor. But what has happened, to produce this desolation around the -privileged one? For lack of a relevant answer, I will propound a -suggestion. - -In the centre of the pea, more gently stewed than the rest by the sun’s -chemistry, may there not be an infant-pap, a pulp of a quality -better-suited to the delicate organs of a grub? Here perhaps, -stimulated by tender, highly flavoured and sweeter food, the stomach -becomes more vigorous and fit to cope with food less easily digested. A -baby is fed on milk before it receives the basin of broth and the bread -of the able-bodied. Might not the central portion of the pea be the -Weevil-grub’s feeding-bottle? - -Fired by one ambition and endowed with equal rights, all the occupants -of the seed set out towards the delicious morsel. It is a laborious -journey; and frequent halts are made in temporary recesses. The grubs -rest; pending better things to come, they frugally crunch the ripe -substance around them; they gnaw even more to open a way than to fill -their stomachs. - -At last one of the excavators, favoured by the direction taken, reaches -the central dairy. It settles there and the thing is done: there is -nothing for the rest but to die. How do they come to know that the -place is taken? Do they hear their kinsman’s mandibles striking against -the wall of his cell? Can they feel the vibration of the nibbling at a -distance? Something of the sort must happen, for from that moment they -cease their attempts to burrow any farther. Without struggling with the -lucky winner, without seeking to dislodge him, those beaten in the race -allow themselves to die. I like this frank resignation on the part of -the late arrivals. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE LARVA - - -Another condition, that of space, is present as a factor. The -Pea-weevil is the largest of our Bruchi. When she attains the adult age -she requires a bigger lodging than is demanded by the other -seed-destroyers. A pea provides her with a very adequate cell; -nevertheless, cohabitation in twos would be impossible: there would be -no room, even if the occupants accepted the discomfort. And so the -inexorable need returns for reducing the numbers and, in the seed -invaded, doing away with all the competitors save one. - -On the other hand, the broad bean, which is almost as great a favourite -of the Bruchus as the pea, is able to house a whole community. The grub -that was but now a solitary becomes a cenobite. There is room for five -or six more, without encroaching on the neighbours’ domain. Moreover, -each grub finds infant-food within its reach, that is to say, the layer -which, being at some distance from the surface, hardens slowly and -retains the dainty juices for a greater length of time. This inner -layer may be regarded as the crumb of an otherwise crusty loaf. - -In the pea, which is a small sphere, it occupies the central part, a -limited area which the grub has to reach or perish; in the bean, a -generous muffin, it includes the large joint of the two flat -seed-lobes. No matter where the big seed is tackled, each larva need -but bore straight ahead and it quickly reaches the coveted food. - -Then what happens? I add up the eggs adhering to a bean-pod, I count -the seeds inside, and on comparing the two totals, I find that there is -plenty of room for the whole family, at the rate of five or six to each -bean. Here we have no surplus larvæ dying of starvation almost as soon -as they leave the egg: all have their share of the ample portion, all -live and prosper. The abundance of the provisions counterbalances the -mother’s extravagance. - -If the Bruchus always adopted the broad bean as the establishment of -her family, I could very well explain her exuberant emission of germs -on a single pod: a rich supply of food, easily acquired, invites a -large colony. The pea, on the other hand, puzzles me. What vagary makes -the mother abandon her offspring to starvation on this insufficient -legumen? Why so many boarders gathered around a seed which forms the -ration of one alone? - -It is not thus that matters are arranged in life’s general -balance-sheet. A certain foresight rules the ovaries and makes them -adjust the number of eaters to the abundance or scarcity of the thing -eaten. The Sacred Beetle, the Sphex-wasp, the Burying-beetle and the -other manufacturers of preserved provisions for the family set close -limits to their fertility, because the soft loaves of their baking, the -baskets containing their game and the contents of their sepulchral -retting-vat are all obtained at the cost of laborious and often -unproductive efforts. - -The Bluebottle, on the contrary, heaps her eggs in bundles. Trusting in -the inexhaustible wealth of a corpse, she lavishes her maggots without -counting the number. At other times, the provision is obtained by -crafty brigandage, exposing the new-born offspring to a thousand fatal -accidents. Then the mother makes up for the chances of destruction by -an excessive outpouring of eggs. This is the case with the Oil-beetles, -who, stealing the property of others under very parlous conditions, are -for that reason endowed with prodigious fertility. - -The Bruchus knows neither the fatigues of the hard worker, obliged to -restrict her family, nor the woes of the parasite, obliged to go to the -other extreme. Without costly researches, entirely at her ease, merely -by strolling in the sun over her favourite plant, she can ensure an -adequate provision for each of her children; she can do this, and yet -the mad creature takes it into her head to over-populate the pea-pod, a -niggardly baby-farm in which the great majority will die of starvation. -This folly passes my understanding: it clashes so utterly with the -usual perspicacity of the maternal instinct. - -I am therefore inclined to believe that the pea was not the Bruchus’ -original share in the distribution of the earth’s gifts. It must rather -have been the bean, one seed of which is capable of entertaining half a -dozen visitors and more. With a seed of this size, the startling -disproportion between the number of the insect’s eggs and the -foodstuffs available disappears. - -Besides, there is not a doubt that, of our various culinary -acquisitions, the broad bean is the earliest in date. Its exceptional -dimensions and its pleasant flavour have certainly attracted man’s -attention since the most remote times. It is a ready-made mouthful, of -great value to the hungry tribe, which would have hastened to secure -its increase by sowing it in the patch of garden beside the house, a -hut of wattled branches plastered with mud. This was the beginning of -agriculture. - -Travelling by long stages, with their waggons drawn by shaggy Oxen and -rolling on solid wheels cut out of the trunks of trees, the emigrants -from Central Asia brought to our uncultivated tracts first the bean, -then the pea and finally the cereal, that eminent stand-by against -hunger. They taught us the care of herds and the use of bronze, of -which the first metal implements were made. Thus did the dawn of -civilization rise over Europe. - -With the bean did those ancient pioneers bring us, involuntarily, the -insect which disputes its possession with us to-day? There is room for -doubt; the Bruchus seems to be a native. I find her at least levying -tribute on divers Leguminosæ of the country, spontaneous plants which -have never tempted man’s appetite. She abounds in particular on the -great broad-leaved everlasting pea (Lathyrus latifolius), with its -magnificent clusters of flowers and its long and handsome pods. Its -seeds are not large, are much smaller than those of our peas; but, -gnawed to the very skin, as they always are by their occupants, they -are each sufficient to the welfare of its grub. - -Note also their considerable number: I have counted more than twenty to -the pod, a wealth unknown to the garden pea, even in its most prolific -state. Thus the superb perennial is generally able, without much loss, -to feed the family entrusted to its pod. - -Where the everlasting pea is lacking, the Bruchus none the less -continues her habitual flux of germs on another legumen, of similar -flavour but incapable of nourishing all the grubs, as for instance on -the broad-podded vetch (Vicia peregrina) or the common vetch (V. -sativa). The number of eggs remains high even on these insufficient -pods, because the original plant offered a copious provender, whether -by the multiplicity or by the large size of the seeds. If the Bruchus -is really a foreigner, we may accept the bean as her first victim; if -the insect is a native, let us accept the everlasting pea. - -Some time in the remote past the pea reached us, gathered at first in -the same prehistoric garden-patch which already supplied the bean. Man -found it a better food than the horse-bean, which is very much -neglected to-day after doing such good service. The Weevil was of the -same opinion and, without quite forgetting her broad bean and her -everlasting pea, generally pitched her camp on the garden pea, which -became more widely cultivated from century to century. To-day we have -to go shares: the Bruchus takes what she wants and lets us have her -leavings. - -The insect’s prosperity, born of the abundance and quality of our -products, from another point of view spells decadence. For the Weevil -as for ourselves, progress in the matter of food and drink does not -always mean improvement. The race fares better by remaining frugal. On -her horse-bean, on her everlasting pea, the Bruchus founded colonies in -which the infant mortality was low. There was room for all. On the pea, -a delectable sweetmeat, the greater part of the guests die of -starvation. The rations are few and the claimants legion. - -We will linger over this problem no longer. Let us inquire into the -grub which has become the sole owner of the pea through the death of -its brothers. It has had no part in that decease; chance has favoured -it, that is all. In the centre of the pea, a luxurious solitude, it -performs a grub’s duty, the one and only duty of eating. It gnaws the -walls around and enlarges its cell, which it always fills completely -with its fair round belly. It is a plump and shapely creature, -glistening with health. If I tease it, it turns lazily in its cell and -wags its head. This is its way of complaining of my rudeness. Let us -leave it in peace. - -The anchorite thrives so well and so fast that, by the dog-days, it is -already making ready for its coming liberation. The adult has not the -necessary tools to open for herself her way out of the pea, which is -now quite hard. The larva knows of this future helplessness and -provides against it with consummate art. With its strong jaws it bores -an exit-shaft, absolutely circular, with very clean-cut sides. Our best -ivory-carvers could produce nothing neater. - -To prepare the door of escape in advance is not enough; we must also -think of the tranquillity essential to the delicate work of the -nymphosis. An intruder might enter through the open door and work -mischief upon the defenceless nymph. This opening must therefore be -kept shut. And how? Here is the device. - -The grub boring the exit-hole eats the floury matter without leaving a -single crumb. On reaching the skin of the seed, suddenly it stops -short. This semitranslucent membrane is the screen protecting the -chamber in which the metamorphosis takes place, the door that defends -the cabin against ill-intentioned intruders. It is also the only -obstacle which the adult will encounter at the time of moving. To -lessen the difficulty of forcing it out, the grub takes the precaution -of carving a groove of least resistance inside the skin, all around the -circumference. The perfect insect will only have to heave with its -shoulders, to strike a blow or two with its head, in order to raise the -lid and knock it off, like the lid of a box. The exit-hole shows -through the transparent skin of the pea in the shape of a large -circular spot, darkened by the obscurity within. What happens below -cannot be seen, hidden as it is behind a sort of ground-glass window. - -A pretty invention, this little port-hole, this barricade against the -invader, this trap-door lifted with a push of the hermit’s shoulder -when the time has come. Shall we give the Bruchus the credit of it? -Could the ingenious insect imagine the enterprise, ponder a plan and -work upon a scheme of its own devising? This would be a fine triumph -for the Weevil’s brain. Before deciding, let us hear what experiment -has to tell us. - -I skin some inhabited peas; I save them from drying too quickly by -placing them in glass tubes. The grubs do as well here as in the intact -peas. The preparations for the deliverance are made at the proper time. - -If the miner acts on its own inspiration, if it ceases to prolong its -shaft as soon as it perceives, by sounding it now and again, that the -ceiling is thin enough, what ought to happen under the present -conditions? Feeling that it is as near the surface as it wishes to be, -the grub will stop boring; it will respect the last layer of the bare -pea and will thus obtain the indispensable defensive screen. - -Nothing of the kind takes place. The well is excavated entirely; its -mouth is open to the outside, as wide, as carefully finished as though -the skin of the pea were still protecting it. Reasons of safety have in -no way modified the usual work. The foe can enter this open lodging; -the grub gives the matter not a thought. - -Nor has it this in mind when it refrains from boring right through the -pea still clad in its skin. It stops suddenly, because it does not like -the non-farinaceous skin. We remove the skins before making our peas -into soup: they have no culinary value; they are not good. The larva of -the Bruchus appears to be like ourselves: it hates the tough outside of -the pea. Warned by the unpleasant taste, it stops at the skin; and this -aversion causes a little miracle. The insect has no logical sense of -its own. It passively obeys a higher logic; it obeys, but is as -unconscious of its art as crystals are when assembling their battalions -of atoms in exquisite order. - -Sooner or later, in August, dark circles form on the peas, always one -to each seed, with no exception. These mark the exit-hatches. Most of -them open in September. The lid, which looks as though cut out with a -punch, comes off very neatly and falls, leaving the opening of the cell -free. The Bruchus issues, freshly clad, in her final form. - -The weather is delightful. Flowers abound, awakened by the showers; the -emigrants from the peas visit them in autumnal revelry. Then, when the -cold sets in, they take up their winter-quarters in some retreat or -other. Others, quite as numerous, are less eager to quit the native -seed. They stay there, motionless, all through the frosty season, -sheltered behind the trap which they are careful not to touch. The door -of the cell will not open on its hinges, that is to say, along its line -of least resistance, until the hot weather returns. Then the laggards -leave their homes and rejoin the more forward; and all are ready for -work when the peas come into flower. - -The great attraction of the insect world for the observer is that he -can obtain a more or less general survey of the instincts, in their -inexhaustible variety; for nowhere do we see the wonderful order of -life’s details more clearly revealed. Entomology, I know, does not -appeal to everybody from this point of view: people have a poor opinion -of the artless person absorbed in the behaviour of insects. To the -terrible utilitarian, a measure of peas saved from the Weevil is of -more importance than any number of observations which bring no -immediate profit. - -And who has told you, O man of little faith, that what is useless -to-day may not be useful to-morrow? If we learn the habits of animals, -we shall be better able to protect our property. Do not despise -disinterested ideas, lest you live to rue the day. It is by -accumulating ideas, whether immediately applicable or not, that mankind -has done and will continue to do better to-day than yesterday, better -in the future than in the present. If we live by peas and horse-beans, -which the Weevil disputes with us, we also live by knowledge, that -mighty kneading-trough in which the dough of progress is mixed and -fermented. Science is well worth a bean or two. Among other things, it -tells us: - -‘The corn-chandler need not trouble to wage war upon the Weevil. By the -time that the peas are stored, the harm is done; it is irreparable, but -not transmissible. The untouched seeds have nothing to fear from the -proximity of the seeds attacked, however long they may remain together. -The Bruchus will issue from the latter when her time comes; she will -fly out of the granary, if escape be possible; if not, she will die -without in any way infesting the seeds that are still sound. No eggs, -no new generation will ever be seen on the dried peas in our -storehouse; nor will any damage be caused by the feeding of the adult.’ - -Our Bruchus is not a sedentary inhabitant of the granaries: she needs -the open air, the sunshine, the freedom of the fields. Very frugal on -her own behalf, she absolutely disdains the hardness of the legumen; -all that her slender snout requires is a few honeyed mouthfuls sipped -from the flowers. The larva, on the other hand, demands the soft bread -of the green pea still growing inside the pod. For these reasons, the -storehouse knows no further multiplication on the part of the ravager -introduced at the beginning. - -The origin of the mischief lies out of doors. It is here more than -elsewhere that we ought to keep a watch on the Weevil’s misdeeds, were -it not that we are nearly always unarmed when it comes to fighting -against insects. Indestructible because of their numbers, their small -size, their sly cunning, the little creatures laugh at man’s anger. The -gardener fumes and curses; the Weevil remains unconcerned: -imperturbably she continues to levy her tithe. - -Fortunately, we have assistants, more patient and more clear-sighted -than ourselves. In the first week of August, when the adult Bruchus is -beginning to move away, I make the acquaintance of a little Chalcis, -the protector of our peas. In my rearing-jars a number of her comes out -of the Weevil’s home before my eyes. The female has a red head and -thorax and a black abdomen, with a long boring-tool. The male, a little -smaller, is clad in black. Both sexes have dull-red legs and -thread-like antennæ. - -In order to leave the pea, the exterminator of the Bruchus opens -herself a window in the centre of the disk which the Weevil’s grub has -bored in the skin with a view to its future deliverance. The devoured -has prepared the way out for the devourer. This detail enables us to -guess the rest. - -When the preliminaries of the metamorphosis are finished, when the -exit-hole is bored, furnished with its lid, a surface cuticle, the -Chalcis comes bustling along. She inspects the peas, still on the -plant, in their pods; she tries them with her antennæ; she discovers, -hidden under the general outer wrapper of the pod, the weak points in -the ceiling formed by the skin. Then, raising her sounding-rod, she -thrusts it through the pod and pierces the thin lid. However deeply -secreted in the centre of the pea, the Weevil, whether larva or nymph, -is reached by the long implement. It receives an egg in its tender -flesh; and the trick is done. Without any chance of defence, for it is -by now either a torpid grub or else a nymph, the corpulent infant will -be drained to the skin. - -What a pity that we are not able at will to promote the multiplication -of this zealous exterminator! Alas, our agricultural auxiliaries have -us in a disappointing vicious circle: if we wish to obtain the -assistance of large numbers of the Chalcids that bore holes in peas, we -must first have large numbers of Pea-weevils! - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE HARICOT-WEEVIL - - -If there is a Heaven-sent vegetable on earth, it is the haricot bean. -It has every good quality in its favour: it is soft to the tooth, of an -agreeable flavour, plentiful, cheap and very nutritious. It is a -vegetable flesh which, without being repulsive or dripping with blood, -is as good as the cut-up horrors in the butcher’s shop. To emphasize -its services to mankind, the Provençal idiom calls it gounflo-gus, the -poor man’s bellows. [58] - -Blessed bean, consoler of the poor, yes, you easily fill out the -labourer, the honest and capable worker who has drawn the wrong number -in life’s mad lottery; kindly bean, with three drops of oil and a dash -of vinegar, you were the favourite dish of my boyhood; and even now, in -the evening of my days, you are welcome to my humble porringer. We -shall be friends to the last. - -To-day it is not my intention to extol your deserts: I want to ask you -a question, simply out of curiosity. What is your country of origin? -Did you come from Central Asia, with the horse-bean and the pea? Did -you belong to the collection of seeds which the first pioneers of -husbandry handed to us from their garden patch? Were you known to -antiquity? - -Here the insect, an impartial and well-informed witness, answers: - -‘No, in our parts antiquity did not know the haricot. The precious -legumen did not reach our country by the same road as the broad bean. -It is a foreigner, introduced into the old continent at a later date.’ - -The insect’s statement merits serious examination, supported as it is -by very plausible arguments. Here are the facts. - -Though I have followed agricultural matters closely for many years, I -have never seen the haricots attacked by any ravager whatever of the -insect series, nor in particular by the Bruchi, the licensed despoilers -of leguminous seeds. - -I question my peasant neighbours on this point. They are men who keep a -sharp look-out where their crops are concerned. To touch their property -is a heinous crime, quickly discovered. Besides, there is the -housewife, who would not fail to find the malefactor as she shells the -haricots intended for the pot, conscientiously fingering them one by -one before dropping them into a plate. - -Well, one and all reply to my question with a smile in which I read -their disbelief in my knowledge of the smaller creatures: - -‘Sir,’ they say, ‘learn that there are never any worms in the haricot. -It is a blessed bean and respected by the Weevil. The pea, the broad -bean, the lentil, the everlasting pea, the chick-pea, all have their -vermin; this one, lou gounflo-gus, never. What should we poor people do -if the Courcoussoun tried to rob us of it?’ - -The Curculio in fact despises it, displaying a very strange contempt -when we consider the fervour with which the other legumina are -attacked. All, down to the meagre lentil, are eagerly despoiled; and -the haricot, so tempting both in size and in flavour, remains unharmed. -It baffles the understanding. For what reason does the Bruchus, who -passes without hesitation from the excellent to the indifferent and -from the indifferent to the excellent, disdain this delicious seed? She -leaves the everlasting pea for the green pea, she leaves the green pea -for the broad bean and the vetch, accepting the niggardly scrap and the -rich cake with equal satisfaction; and the attractions of the haricot -leave her uninterested. Why? - -Apparently because this legumen is unknown to her. The others, whether -natives or acclimatized foreigners from the East, have been familiar to -her for centuries; she tests their excellence year by year and, relying -on the lessons of the past, she bases her forethought for the future -upon ancient custom. She suspects the haricot as a newcomer whose -merits she has still to learn. - -The insect tells us emphatically that the haricot is of recent date. It -reached us from very far away, surely from the New World. Every edible -thing attracts those whose business it is to make use of it. If the -haricot had originated in the old continent, it would have had its -licensed consumers, after the manner of the pea, the lentil and the -others. The smallest leguminous seed, often no bigger than a pin’s -head, feeds its Bruchus, a dwarf that nibbles it patiently and hollows -it into a dwelling, whereas the plump and exquisite haricot is spared! - -This strange immunity can have but one explanation: like the potato, -like maize, the haricot is a present from the New World. It arrived in -Europe unaccompanied by the insect that battens on it regularly in its -native land; it found in our fields other seed-eaters, which, because -they did not know it, despised it. In the same way, the potato and -maize are respected over here, unless their American consumers are -imported with them by accident. - -The insect’s report is confirmed by the negative evidence of the -ancient classics: the haricot never appears on the rustic table of -their peasants. In Virgil’s second Eclogue, Thestylis is preparing the -reapers’ repast: - - - Thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus æstu - Allia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentes. [59] - - -The mixture is the equivalent of the aioli dear to the Provençal -palate. It sounds very well in verse, but it lacks substance. On such -an occasion men would prefer such solid fare as a dish of red haricots -seasoned with chopped onions. Capital: that ballasts the stomach, while -remaining just as countrified as garlic. Thus filled, in the open air, -to the chirping of the Cicadæ, the gang of harvesters could take a -brief mid-day nap and gently digest their meal in the shade of the -sheaves. Our modern Thestyles, differing so little from their classic -sisters, would take good care not to forget the gounflo-gus, that -thrifty stand-by of big appetites. The Thestylis of the poet does not -think of it, because she does not know it. - -The same author shows us Tityrus offering a night’s hospitality to his -friend Melibœus, who, driven from his property by the soldiers of -Octavius, goes off limping behind his flock of goats. - -‘We shall have chestnuts,’ says Tityrus, ‘cheese and fruits.’ - -History does not say if Melibœus allowed himself to be tempted. It is a -pity, for during the frugal meal we might have learnt, in a more -explicit fashion, that the shepherds of olden time had to do without -the haricot. - -Ovid tells us, in a delightful passage, of the manner in which Philemon -and Baucis welcomed the gods unawares as guests in their humble -cottage. On the three-legged table steadied by means of a potsherd, -they served cabbage-soup, rancid bacon, eggs turned for a moment over -the hot cinders, cornelian cherries preserved in brine, honey and -fruits. One dish is lacking amid this rustic magnificence, an essential -dish which no Baucis of our country-side would ever forget. The -bacon-soup would have been followed, inevitably, by a plateful of -haricots. Why does Ovid, the poet so rich in details, fail to speak of -the bean which would have looked so well on the bill of fare? The reply -is the same: he cannot have known of it. - -In vain do I go over the little that my reading has taught me of rustic -food in ancient times: I have no recollection of the haricot. The -stew-pots of the vine-dresser and the harvester tell me of the lupin, -the broad bean, the pea, and the lentil; but they never mention the -bean of beans. - -The haricot has a reputation of another kind, a reputation more -flatulent than flattering. You eat it and then, as the saying goes, the -sooner you are off the better. It therefore lends itself to the coarse -jests loved by the rabble, especially when these are put into words by -the shameless genius of an Aristophanes or a Plautus. What stage -effects could have been produced by the merest allusion to the noisy -bean, raising guffaws of laughter from the mariners of Athens or the -street-porters of Rome! Did the two comic poets, in the unfettered -gaiety of a language less reserved than ours, ever refer to the virtues -of the haricot? Not once. They are quite silent on the subject of the -sonorous bean. - -The word haricot itself sets us thinking. It is an outlandish term, -related to none of our expressions. Its turn of language, which is -alien to our combinations of sounds, suggests to the mind some -West-Indian jargon, as do caoutchouc and cocoa. Does the word, as a -matter of fact, come from the American Redskins? Did we receive, -together with the bean, the name by which it is called in its native -country? Perhaps so; but how are we to know? Haricot, fantastic -haricot, you set us a curious linguistic problem. - -The Frenchman calls it also faséole, flageolet. The Provençal dubs it -faïoù and favioù; the Catalan fayol; the Spaniard faseolo; the -Portuguese feyâo; the Italian faguilo. Here I am on familiar ground: -the languages of the Latin family have kept, with the inevitable -terminal modifications, the ancient word faseolus. - -Now, if I consult my dictionary, I find: faselus, phaselus, faseolus, -phaseolus, haricot. Learned vocabulary, permit me to tell you that your -translation is wrong: phaselus or phaseolus cannot mean haricot. And -the incontestable proof is in the Georgics [60] where Virgil tells us -the season at which to sow the faseolus. He says: - - - Si vero viciamque seres vilemque phaselum.... - Haud obscura cadens mittet tibi signa Bootes; - Incipe et ad medias sementem extende pruinas. [61] - - -Nothing is clearer than the teaching of the poet, who was wonderfully -well-informed on agricultural matters: we must begin to sow the -phaselus when the constellation Bootes disappears at sunset, that is to -say, at the end of October, and continue doing so until the middle of -the winter. - -These conditions put the haricot out of the question: it is a chilly -plant, which would not withstand the slightest frost. The winter would -be fatal to it, even in the climate of the south of Italy. On the other -hand, the pea, the broad bean, the everlasting pea and others, better -able to resist the cold because of their country of origin, have -nothing to fear from an autumn sowing and thrive during the winter, -provided that the climate be fairly mild. - -What then does the phaselus of the Georgics stand for, that -problematical bean which has handed down its name to the haricot in the -Latin languages? Remembering the contemptuous epithet vilis with which -the poet stigmatizes it, I feel inclined to look upon it as the -chickling vetch, the coarse square pea, the jaisso despised by the -Provençal peasant. - -The problem of the haricot had reached this stage, almost elucidated by -the insect’s evidence alone, when an unexpected document came and gave -me the last word of the riddle. It is once more a poet—and a very -famous poet—M. José Maria de Heredia, [62] who comes to the -naturalist’s aid. Without suspecting the service which he is rendering -me, the village schoolmaster lends me a magazine [63] in which I read -the following conversation between the masterly chaser of sonnets and a -lady journalist who asks him which of his works he prefers: - -‘“What would you have me say?” asks the poet. “You place me in a great -difficulty.... I do not know which sonnet I like best: they all cost me -terrible pains to write.... Which do you yourself prefer?” - -‘“How can I possibly make a choice, my dear master, out of so many -jewels, each of which is perfectly beautiful? You flash pearls, -emeralds and rubies before my astonished eyes; how can I decide to -prefer the emerald to the pearl? The whole necklace throws me into an -ecstasy of admiration.” - -‘“Well, as for me, there is something of which I am prouder than of all -my sonnets, something which has done more than my verses to establish -my fame.” - -‘I open my eyes wide: - -‘“What is that?” I ask. - -‘The master gives me a mischievous glance; then, with that fine light -in his eyes which fires his youthful features, he exclaims, -triumphantly: - -‘“I have discovered the etymology of the word haricot.” - -‘I was too much astounded even to laugh. - -‘“What I tell you is perfectly serious.” - -‘“My dear master, I knew your reputation for profound scholarship; but -from that to imagining that you owed your fame to discovering the -etymology of the word haricot: ah no, I should never have expected -that! Can you tell me how you made the discovery?” - -‘“With pleasure. It was like this: I found some particulars about -haricots when searching through a fine sixteenth-century work on -natural history, Hernandez’ De Historia plantarum novi orbis. The word -haricot was unknown in France until the seventeenth century: we used to -say fève or phaséol; in Mexican, ayacot. Thirty varieties of haricot -were cultivated in Mexico before the conquest. They are called ayacot -to this day, especially the red haricot, with black or violet spots. -One day, at Gaston Paris’ house, I met a great scholar. On hearing my -name, he rushed at me and asked if it was I who had discovered the -etymology of the word haricot. He was absolutely ignorant of the fact -that I had written poems and published Les Trophées....”’ - -What a glorious jest, to place the jewellery of his sonnets under the -protection of a bean! I in my turn am delighted with the ayacot. How -right I was to suspect that strange word haricot of being an -American-Indian idiom! How truthful the insect was when it declared, in -its own fashion, that the precious seed reached us from the New World! -While retaining its first name, or something very nearly, the bean of -Montezuma, the Aztec ayacot, found its way from Mexico to our -kitchen-gardens. - -But it came to us unaccompanied by the insect which is its titular -consumer, for there must certainly be a Weevil in its native country -which levies tribute on the generous bean. Our indigenous nibblers of -seeds have disowned the foreigner; they have not yet had time to become -familiar with it and to appreciate its merits; they have prudently -refrained from touching the ayacot, which aroused suspicion because of -its novelty. Until our own days, therefore, the Mexican bean remained -unharmed, differing curiously in this from our other legumina, all of -which are eagerly devoured by the Weevil. - -This state of things could not last. If our fields do not contain the -haricot-loving insect, the New World knows it well. In the ordinary way -of commercial exchange, some sack of worm-eaten beans was bound to -bring it to Europe. The invasion was inevitable. - -Indeed, according to data in my possession, it seems recently to have -taken place. Three or four years ago, I received from Maillanne, in the -Bouches-du-Rhône, what I was vainly seeking in my neighbourhood, -although I cross-examined both farmers and housewives, astonishing them -greatly by my questions. No one had ever seen the pest of the haricots; -no one had ever heard of it. Friends who knew of my inquiries sent me -from Maillanne, as I have said, the wherewithal to satisfy fully my -curiosity as a naturalist. It consisted of a bushel of haricots -outrageously spoilt, riddled with holes, changed into a sort of sponge -and swarming inside with innumerable Bruchi, which recalled the -Lentil-weevil by their diminutive size. - -The senders told me of the damage suffered at Maillanne. The odious -insect, they said, had destroyed the best part of the crop. A veritable -plague, the like of which had never been known before, had fallen upon -the haricots, leaving the housekeeper hardly any with which to garnish -her stew. Of the culprit’s habits, of its way of going to work, nothing -was known. It was for me to find out this by experiment. - -Quick, then, let us experiment! Circumstances favour me. We are in the -middle of June; and I have in the garden a row of early haricots, black -Belgian haricots, sown for cooking-purposes. Though it mean sacrificing -the precious vegetable, let us loose the terrible destroyer on the mass -of verdure. The development of the plant is at just the right stage, if -I may go by what the Pea-weevil has already shown me: there are plenty -of flowers and also of pods, still green and of all sizes. - -I put two or three handfuls of my Maillanne haricots in a plate and -place the swarming mass full in the sunlight on the edge of my bed of -beans. I can imagine what will happen. The insects which are free and -those which the stimulus of the sun will soon set free will take to -their wings. Finding the fostering plant close by, they will stop and -take possession of it. I shall see them exploring the pods and flowers -and I shall not have long to wait before I witness the laying. That is -how the Pea-weevil would act under similar conditions. - -Well, no: to my confusion, matters do not fall out as I foresaw. For a -few minutes the insects bustle about in the sunlight, opening and -closing their wing-cases to ease the mechanism of flight; then one by -one they fly off. They mount high in the luminous air; they grow -smaller and smaller and are soon lost to view. My persevering attention -meets with not the slightest success: not one of the fly-aways settles -on the haricots. - -After tasting the joys of liberty to the full, will they return this -evening, to-morrow, the day after? No, they do not return. All the -week, at favourable hours, I inspect the rows of beans, flower by -flower, pod by pod; never a Weevil do I see, never an egg. And yet it -is a propitious time of year, for at this moment the mothers imprisoned -in my jars are laying their eggs profusely on the dry haricots. - -Let us try at another season. I have two other beds which I have had -sown with the late haricot, the red cocot, partly for the use of the -household, but principally for the sake of the Weevils. Arranged in -convenient rows, the two beds will yield their crops one in August, the -other in September and later. - -I repeat with the red haricot the experiment which I made with the -black. On several occasions, at opportune times, I release into the -tangle of verdure large numbers of Bruchi from my glass jars, the -general depot. Each time the result is plainly negative. In vain, all -through the season, I repeat my almost daily search, until both the -crops are exhausted: I can never discover a single colonized pod, nor -even a single Weevil perched upon the plant. - -And yet this is not for lack of watching. My family are enjoined not to -touch any part of certain rows which I reserve for my purposes; they -are told to mind the eggs which might occur on the pods gathered. I -myself examine the beans brought from my own or the neighbouring -gardens, before handing them to the housekeeper to be shelled. All my -trouble is wasted: there is nowhere a trace of any laying. - -To these experiments in the open air I add others under glass. I place -in long, narrow flasks fresh pods hanging from their stalks, some -green, others mottled with crimson and containing seeds which are -nearly ripe. Each flask receives its complement of Weevils. This time I -obtain eggs, but they do not inspire me with much hope: the mother has -laid them on the sides of the flasks and not on the pods. No matter: -they hatch. For a few days I see the grubs roaming about, exploring the -pods and the glass with equal zeal. In the end they all die, from the -first to the last, without touching the food provided. - -The conclusion to be drawn is obvious: the young and tender haricot is -not the thing for them. Unlike the Pea-weevil, the Haricot-weevil -refuses to entrust her family to beans that are not hardened by age and -desiccation; she declines to stop on my seed-patch, because she does -not find the provisions which she requires. - -Then what does she want? She wants old, hard beans, which clatter on -the ground like little pebbles. I will satisfy her. I place in my -flasks some very hard, tough pods, which have been long dried in the -sun. This time the family prospers; the grubs bore through the parched -shell, reach the seeds, enter them; and henceforth all goes well as -well can be. - -To all appearances, this is how the Weevil invades the farmer’s -granary. Some haricots are left standing in the fields until both -plants and pods, baked by the sun, are perfectly dry. This will make -them easier to beat in order to separate the beans. It is now that the -Weevil, finding things as she wants them, begins her laying. By getting -in his crop a little late, the peasant gets the marauder into the -bargain. - -But the Bruchus attacks more especially the seeds in our stores. -Copying the Corn-weevil, who eats the wheat in our granaries and -disregards the cereal swaying in the ear, in the same way she abhors -the tender bean and prefers to make her home in the peace and darkness -of our warehouses. She is a formidable enemy of the corn-chandler -rather than of the farmer. - -What a fury of destruction, once the ravager is installed amidst our -hoards of beans! My flasks proclaim the fact aloud. A single -haricot-bean harbours a numerous family, often as many as twenty. And -not only one generation exploits it, but quite three or four in the -year. So long as any edible matter remains within the skin, so long do -new consumers settle down in it, until in the end the haricot becomes a -loathsome sugar-plum stuffed with stercoral droppings. The skin, which -the grubs refuse to eat, is a sack pierced with round holes numbering -as many as the inhabitants that have left it; the contents yield to the -pressure of the finger and spread into a disgusting paste of floury -excreta. The bean is a complete wreck. - -The Pea-weevil, living alone in its seed, eats only enough to make a -little hollow for the nymph. The rest remains intact, so that the pea -is able to sprout and can even serve as food, if we dismiss any -unreasonable repugnance from our mind. The American insect does not -exercise this self-restraint: it empties its haricot entirely, leaving -a skinful of filth which I have seen refused by the pigs. America does -not do things by halves when she sends us her plagues of insects. We -had to thank her for the Phylloxera, the disastrous Louse against whom -our vine-growers wage incessant war; and now we have to thank her for -the Haricot-weevil, a serious future menace. A few experiments will -give us an idea of the danger. - -For nearly three years there have stood, on the table of my insect -laboratory, some dozens of jars and bottles closed with gauze covers -which prevent escape, while permitting constant ventilation. These are -the cages containing my wild animals. In them I rear the -Haricot-weevil, varying the diet as I please. They teach me among other -things that the insect, far from being exclusive in the choice of its -establishments, will make itself at home in our different legumina, -with very few exceptions. - -All the haricots suit it, whether black or white, red or striped, small -or large, those of the last crop or those many years old and almost too -hard to boil. The loose beans are attacked by preference, as being less -troublesome to invade; but, when there are no shelled beans available, -those covered by their natural sheath are just as zealously exploited. -The new-born grubs are well able to reach them through the pod, which -is often as stiff as parchment. This is how the beans are raided in the -fields. - -Another highly-appreciated bean is the long-podded dolichos, known -among our people as lou faioù borgné, the one-eyed haricot, because of -the dark speck which gives the umbilicus the look of a black eye. I -even fancy that my boarders show a marked predilection for this bean. - -So far, there is nothing abnormal: the Bruchus has not gone beyond the -botanical genus Phaseolus. But here is something that increases the -danger and shows us the phaseolus-lover in an unexpected light. The -Bruchus accepts without the least hesitation the dried pea, the broad -bean, the everlasting pea, the vetch, the chick-pea; she passes from -one to the other, always satisfied; her family live and prosper in all -these legumina as well as they do in the haricot. Only the lentil is -refused, perhaps because of its insufficient size. What a dread robber -this American Weevil is! - -The evil would become still greater if, as I feared at first, the -ever-greedy insect passed from leguminous seeds to cereals. This it -does not do. When installed in my jars with a heap of wheat, barley, -rice or maize, the Bruchus invariably dies without offspring. The -result is the same with horny seeds, such as coffee-beans; with -oleaginous seeds, such as those of the castor-oil-plant or of the -sunflower. Nothing outside the legumina suits the Bruchus. -Notwithstanding these limitations, its portion is a very extensive one; -and it uses and abuses it with the utmost energy. - -The eggs are white and drawn out into a tiny cylinder. They are -scattered anyhow and anywhere. The mother lays them either singly or in -little groups, on the sides of the jar as well as on the haricots. Her -heedlessness is such that she will even fasten them to maize, -castor-oil-seeds, coffee-beans or other seeds, on which the family are -doomed soon to perish, finding no food to their liking. What is the use -of maternal foresight here? Left no matter where, under the heaps of -beans, the eggs are always well-placed, for it is the new-born grubs’ -business to seek and find the spots at which to effect an entrance. - -The egg hatches in five days at most. Out of it comes a tiny white -creature, with a red head. It is a mere speck, just visible to the -naked eye. The grub is swollen in front, to give more strength to its -tool, the chisel of its mandibles, which has to break through the tough -seed, hard as wood. The larvæ of the Buprestes and the Capricorns, -which tunnel through the trunks of trees, are similarly shaped. As soon -as it is born, the crawling worm makes off at random, with an activity -which we should hardly expect in one so young. It roams about, anxious -to find board and lodging as soon as possible. - -It attains its object, for the most part, within the twenty-four hours. -I see the worm making a hole in the tough skin of the seed; I watch its -efforts; I catch sight of it half-sunk in the beginning of a gallery -whose entrance is dusty with white flour, the refuse from the boring. -It works its way in and penetrates into the heart of the seed. Its -evolution is so rapid that it will emerge in the adult form in five -weeks’ time. - -This hasty development permits several generations to take place in the -course of the year. I have seen four. On the other hand, an isolated -couple supplied me with a family of eighty. Let us consider only half -this number, to allow for the two sexes, which I take to be equally -represented. At the end of the year, the couples resulting from this -source will therefore be represented by the fourth power of forty, -reaching in terms of larvæ the frightful total of over two and a half -millions. What a heap of haricots such a legion would destroy! - -The larva’s methods remind us at all points of what the Pea-weevil -showed us. Each grub digs itself a cell in the floury mass, while -respecting the skin in the form of a protective disk, which the adult -will easily be able to push out at the moment of leaving. Towards the -end of the larval phase, the cells show through on the surface of the -bean as so many dark circles. At last the lid falls off, the insect -leaves its cell and the haricot remains pierced with as many holes as -it had grubs feeding on it. - -Very frugal, satisfied with a few floury scraps, the adults seem not at -all anxious to abandon the heap so long as beans worth exploiting -remain. They mate in the interstices of the stack; the mothers scatter -their eggs at random; the young grubs make themselves at home, some in -the untouched haricots, some in the beans that are holed but not yet -exhausted; and the swarming is repeated every five weeks throughout the -summer, after which the last generation, the one born in September or -October, slumbers in its cells till the return of the warm weather. - -If ever the spoiler of the haricots became too ominously threatening, -it would not be very difficult to wage a war of extermination upon her. -We know from her habits the best tactics to follow. She ravages the dry -and gathered crop, stored in the granaries. It is an irksome matter to -attend to her in the open fields; and it is also almost useless. The -bulk of her business is conducted elsewhere, in our warehouses. The -enemy settles down under our roof, within our reach. This being so, -with the aid of insecticides defence becomes relatively easy. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE IRIS-WEEVIL - - -Plants, with their fruits, have been and still are the main sustenance -of mankind. The ancient Paradise of which the eastern legends tell us -had no other food-resources. It was a delicious garden with cool -rivulets and fruits of every kind, including the apple that was to be -so fatal to us. On the other hand, from a very early period, our ills -sought to obtain relief by the virtues of simples, virtues that were -sometimes real and sometimes, indeed most frequently, imaginary. Our -knowledge of plants is thus as old as our infirmities and our need of -food. - -Our knowledge of insects, on the contrary, is quite recent. The -ancients knew nothing of the lesser animals, did not even deign to -glance at them. This disdain is by no means extinct. We are vaguely -familiar with the work of the Bee and the Silk-worm; we have heard -people speak of the industry of the Ant; we know that the Cicada sings, -without having a very exact notion of the singer, who is confused with -others; we have perhaps vouchsafed a careless glance to the splendours -of the Butterflies; and with this, for the immense majority, entomology -begins and ends. What layman would risk naming an insect, even one of -the more remarkable? - -The Provençal peasant, who is pretty quick at observing things that -have to do with the land, has a dozen expressions at the very most to -denominate indiscriminately the vast world of insects, though he -possesses a very rich vocabulary by which to describe plants. This or -that bit of weed which one would think was known only to the botanists -is to him a familiar object and bears a special name of its own. - -Now the vegetarian insect is, as a rule, scrupulously faithful to its -food-plant, so that, with botany and entomology going hand in hand, the -beginner is spared many a hesitation. The plant exploited gives the -name of the exploiting insect. Who, for instance, does not know the -splendid yellow iris? The green cutlasses of its leaves and its yellow -cluster of flowers are mirrored in the brooks. The pretty, green -Tree-frog, swelling his throat into a bagpipe, sits and croaks in it at -the approach of rain. - -Come nearer. On its trivalvular capsules, which the heat of June is -beginning to ripen, we shall see a curious sight. Here, a restless -company of thick-set, rusty-red Weevils are embracing, separating and -coming together again. They are working with their beaks and are busy -mating. This shall be our subject for to-day. - -Our current language has not given them a name, but history has -inflicted on them the fantastic appellation of Mononychus pseudo-acori, -Fab. Literally interpreted and amplified, this means ‘the one-nailed -insect of the mock acorus,’ acorus in its turn being derived from α, -privative, and κόρη, the pupil of the eye. The grammarian’s scalpel, -searching and dissecting the entrails of words, is liable, like the -anatomist’s scalpel, to meet with strange adventures. Let us explain -this scientific jargon, which at first sight seems utterly meaningless. - -The plant helpful to those without pupils—that is to say, the -weak-sighted—is the acorus, or sweet flag, which the medical science of -antiquity prescribed for certain affections of the eyes. Its -sword-shaped leaves bear some resemblance to those of the yellow iris. -Ours, therefore, is the false acorus, a deceptive image of the famous -medicinal plant. - -As for the one nail, this is explained by the tarsi, the insect’s six -fingers, each of which is armed with a single claw instead of the usual -two. This strange exception certainly deserved to be pointed out; all -the same, any one must prefer Iris-weevil to Mononychus pseudo-acori. -Neglecting all pomp and ostentation, the everyday name does not -topsy-turvify the mind and makes straight for the insect. - -In June, I pluck some stems of yellow iris surmounted by their bunch of -capsules, which are already large and keep fresh and green for a long -time. The exploiting Weevil goes with them. In captivity, under the -trellis-work of a wire-gauze cover, the work proceeds just as it does -beside the brook. Most of the insects, singly or in groups, stand at -convenient points. With their rostrum plunged into the green hull, they -sip and sup indefinitely. When they retire sated, a drop of gum oozes -out which, after drying on the orifice of the well, marks the spot -which they have drained. - -Others are grazing. They attack the tender capsules and skin them -almost down to the seeds. Despite their tiny size, they nibble -gluttonously; when several of them are feasting together, they gnaw -large areas; but they do not actually reach the seeds, the food -reserved for the larvæ. Many of them stroll about, seem not to care for -eating. They meet, tease one another for a moment and couple. - -I do not succeed in observing the method of laying, which, however, -must be much the same as that of the other Weevils who use a sound. The -mother apparently bores a well with her rostrum; she then turns and -places the egg in position by means of her oviscapt. I have seen larvæ -quite recently hatched. The vermin occupy the interior of a seed whose -substance is becoming organized and beginning to grow firm. - -At the end of July, I open some capsules brought on the same day from -the banks of the stream. In most of them the insect occurs in the three -forms of larva, nymph and adult. Each of the three cells of the fruit -contains a row of some fifteen seeds, flat and pressed tightly one -against the other. The grub’s portion consists of three contiguous -seeds. The one in the middle is entirely consumed, excepting the husk, -which is too tough; the two at either end are simply bitten into. The -result is a house with three rooms, the central one shaped like a ring, -the two outer ones dug cup-wise. - -With its fifteen seeds, each compartment of the fruit is therefore able -to shelter five larvæ at most, providing them with a fitting ration and -a detached villa which does not interfere with the neighbours. However, -on the back of the capsule, we count, for each cell, about twenty -perforations, the edge of which is marked by a little wart either of -gum or of some brown substance. These are so many soundings made by the -Weevil’s rostrum. - -Some of these have to do with the feeding: they are the -refreshment-bars at which the colonists of the capsule have taken a -snack. The others relate to the laying of the eggs and the placing of -them, one by one, in the midst of the victuals. Outwardly there is -nothing to distinguish the speck which marks a refreshment-bar from -that which marks a cradle; therefore it is impossible, by merely -counting the borings, to tell exactly how many eggs have been confided -to the capsule. Let us strike an average. Of the twenty punctures in -one shell, let us consider ten as relating to the eggs. These would be -twice as many as the cell could feed. What then has become of the -surplus? - -Here we are reminded of the Weevil who scatters over her pea-pod an -excessive number of eggs, out of all proportion to the provisions which -it contains. In the same way, on the iris, the pregnant mother takes no -stock of the rations; she peoples the already populated and fills the -overflowing. Her procreative fury does not reckon with the future. Let -those thrive who may. - -We can understand Verbascum thapsus allowing itself forty-eight -thousand seeds when the germination of a single one would suffice to -maintain the species: its distaff is a treasure-house of food by which -a host of consumers will profit. But we cannot understand the -Pea-weevil, the Iris-weevil and many others who, though not exposed to -a serious thinning, nevertheless produce excessive families without -taking into account the resources at their disposal. - -For lack of room on the seed-capsule of the iris, of the ten guests in -one shell four or five at most will survive. As for the disappearance -of the rest, we need not seek the cause in the massacring of rivals, -though the struggle for existence is fruitful in such crimes. The -Weevil’s grub is too pacific a creature to wring the neck of those -which get in its way. I prefer the explanation which I gave in the case -of the Pea-weevil. The late-comers, finding the best places taken, -allow themselves to die without striving to dislodge the others. For -those first installed, a plentiful board and life; for those which lag -behind, famine and death. - -In August the adults begin to appear outside the seed-pods of the iris. -The larva has not the talent which the Pea-weevil’s grub possesses: it -does not, by patient nibbling, make any sort of preparation for the -exodus. It is the perfect insect itself that contrives the exit-way, -which consists of a round hole bored through the tough husk of the seed -and the thick wall of the fruit. Finally, in September, the capsules of -the iris turn brown and the three valves become unfastened; the house -threatens to fall to pieces. Before it becomes untenable, the last -occupants hasten to clear out, each by its round window. They will -spend the winter in the neighbourhood, under some kind of shelter; -then, when spring returns and the iris is yellow with flowers, the -colonizing of the capsules will begin all over again. - -The flora of my district, not far from the spots frequented by our -insect, in addition to the yellow iris comprises three other species. -On the neighbouring hills, among the rock-roses and the rosemaries, the -dwarf iris abounds (I. chamæiris, Bertol.), with flowers of varying -colour: they are sometimes purple, sometimes yellow or white and -sometimes attired in a mixture of the three hues. The plant is barely a -hand’s-breadth in height, but its flowers are quite as large as those -of the other species. - -On the same hills, at points where the rains have left a little -moisture, the spurious iris (I. spuria) forms a glorious carpet. It is -tall, slender-leaved and decked with flowers of rare beauty. Lastly, -near the brook where I have been observing the Iris-weevil, is the -Gladwyn iris, or leg-of-mutton iris (I. fœtidissiina, Lin.), whose -leaves, when bruised, give a faint scent of mutton and garlic. Its -seeds are a fine orange-red, a specific characteristic which recurs not -elsewhere. - -Altogether, without counting such foreigners as may have found their -way into the flower-gardens around, we see four varieties of native -iris at the Weevil’s disposal. They have the same sort of capsules, all -equally bulky and equally rich in seeds, whose properties as food -cannot differ much. Moreover the four plants flower at the same season. -And of these four, which would permit her greatly to extend her race, -the Weevil invariably selects the yellow iris. I have never found the -insect established in the capsules of one of the other three. - -For what reasons does she prefer niggardly uniformity to varied -abundance? The tastes of the adult insect and those of the larva must -have something to say to the choice. The adult feeds on the fleshy hull -of the capsules; the grub, on the other hand, lives entirely on the -seeds, which are not yet hardened and are full of juice. Are the -appetites of the adult insect satisfied with the fruit of any kind of -iris? This can be tested. - -Under the trellis-work of a wire cover, I place before the Weevil some -green capsules of different origins. Jumbled up with the fruits of the -yellow iris are those of the dwarf iris, the leg-of-mutton iris and the -spurious iris. To these I add some foreign capsules, those of the pale -Turkey iris (I. pallida, Lam.) and of the great bulbous iris (I. -xiphoides, Ehrh.), which differs so greatly from the others by the bulb -which takes the place of the usual rhizome. - -Well, all these fruits are accepted as eagerly as those of the yellow -iris. The Weevil riddles them with punctures, strips them bare, pierces -them with windows. The capsules of my choosing and those from the banks -of the stream, which are normally used, often lie side by side; the -consumer makes no distinction between them, but goes without hesitation -from one to the other, attacking them with a zeal which is in no wise -impaired by the novelty of the dish. It considers everything good to -eat, so long as it comes from an iris of some sort or other. - -And this is not, as one might reasonably suppose, an aberration caused -by the tedium of captivity. I have found in the harmas [64] on the tall -stalks of the pale Turkey iris, a group of our Weevils feeding together -on the green capsules. Whence came they, these pilgrims observed for -the first time between my four walls? How did they learn, these -colonists from the moist river-banks, that an iris which provided -excellent eating was flowering amid the aridities of my acre of -pebbles? At any rate, they left no part of the young capsules intact. -The food discovered suited them very well. It was therefore impossible -for me to profit by this windfall in order to ascertain whether the -unfamiliar plant would serve for the establishment of the family. - -Apart from the genus Iris, are there any other plants, its near -botanical relations, whose fruits are accepted? I have vainly tried the -trivalvular capsules of the corn-flag (Gladiolus segetum, Gawl.) and -the globular capsules of two asphodels (Asphodelus luteus, Lin. and A. -cerasiferus, Gay). The Weevil would have none of them. At most she -dipped her rostrum into the green capsules of the yellow asphodel, the -common Jacob’s staff. She tasted and then moved away. The dish was not -to her liking; and hunger was unable to overcome her obstinate disdain. -She would die of starvation sooner than touch victuals unhallowed by -tradition. - -It goes without saying that I found nothing in the way of eggs on the -corn-flag or the two asphodels. What the insect regards as unfit for -its own consumption is a fortiori refused when the grub’s food is -concerned. Nor was I any luckier with the various irises which I tried, -the yellow iris excepted. Are we to attribute this refusal to the -insect’s captivity? No, for the capsules of the yellow iris were -colonized fairly well under my wire covers. The fact is that, as soon -as the establishment of the family comes into question, the Weevil -abstains entirely from anything that is contrary to habit and remains -firmly faithful to the laws and customs of the ancients. In short, I -have never found the Weevil established elsewhere than in the capsules -of the yellow iris, however appetizing the appearance of the others, -especially those of the dwarf iris, which are exceedingly fleshy and -very numerous in the spring. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE CIONUS - - -An insect, well known to every one, is often but a stupid creature, -while another, of which nothing is known, is of real value. When -endowed with talents worthy of attention, it passes unrecognized; when -richly clad and of handsome appearance, it is familiar to us. We judge -it by its coat and its size, as we judge our neighbour by the fineness -of his clothing and the importance of the position which he fills. The -rest does not count. - -Of course, if it is to be honoured by the historian, it is best that -the insect should enjoy popular renown. This saves the reader trouble, -as he at once knows precisely what we are speaking of; furthermore, it -shortens the story, which is not hampered by long and tedious -descriptions. Moreover, if size facilitates observation, if elegance of -shape and brilliance of costume captivate the eye, we should be wrong -not to take this magnificence into our reckoning. - -But far more important are the habits, the ingenious devices, which -give a real charm to entomological study. Now it so happens that among -the insects it is the largest, the most magnificent, that are generally -the most inefficient: a freak of nature that recurs elsewhere. What can -we expect of a Carabus, all shimmering with metallic gleams? Nothing -but feasting amid the foam secreted by a murdered snail. What can we -expect of the Cetonia, who looks as though she had escaped from a -jeweller’s show-case? Nothing but drowsy slumbers in the heart of a -rose. These magnificoes cannot do anything; they have no craft, no -trade. - -If, on the contrary, we wish to see original inventions, artistic -masterpieces and ingenious contrivances, we must apply to the humble -creatures that are oftener than not unknown to any one. And we must not -allow ourselves to be disgusted by the spots frequented. Ordure has -beautiful and curious things in store for us, the like of which we -should never find on the rose. The Minotaur [65] has edified us by his -domestic habits. Long live the modest! Long live the little! - -One of these little ones, smaller than a peppercorn, will set us a -great problem, full of interest but probably insoluble. The official -nomenclators call it Cionus thapsus, Fab. If you ask me what Cionus -means, I shall reply frankly that I have not the least idea. Neither -the writer of these lines nor the reader is any the worse off for that. -In entomology a name is all the better for meaning nothing but the -insect named. - -If an amalgam of Greek or Latin has a meaning that alludes to the -insect’s manner of living, the reality is often inconsistent with the -word, because the nomenclator, working in a necropolis, has preceded -the observer, who is concerned with the living species. Moreover, rough -guesses and even glaring mistakes too often disfigure the records of -the insect world. - -At the present moment, it is the word thapsus that deserves reproach, -for the plant exploited by the Cionus is not the botanists’ Verbascum -thapsus at all, but quite another plant, of wholly different character, -Verbascum sinuatum. A lover of the way-side, having no fear of the -ungrateful soil and the white dust, the scallop-leaved mullein is a -southern plant which spreads over the ground a rosette of broad, fluffy -leaves, the edges of which are gashed with deep, wavy incisions. Its -flower-stalk is divided into a number of twigs bearing yellow blossoms -whose staminal filaments are bearded with violet hairs. - -At the end of May, let us open the umbrella, the collector’s chief -engine of the chase, underneath the plant. A few blows of a -walking-stick on the chandelier ablaze with yellow flowers will bring -down a sort of hail. This is our friend the Cionus, a roundish little -creature, huddled into a globule on its short legs. Its costume is not -lacking in elegance and consists of a scaly jacket flecked with black -specks on an ash-grey background. The insect is distinguished above all -by two large tufts of black velvet, one on its back and the other at -the lower extremity of the wing-case. No other Weevil of our -country-side wears the like. The rostrum is fairly long, powerful and -depressed towards the thorax. - -For a long while this Weevil, with her decoration of black spots, has -occupied my mind. I should like to know her larva, which, as everything -seems to prove, must live in the capsules of the scallop-leaved -mullein. The insect belongs to the series that nibble at seeds -contained in a shell; it ought to share their botanical habits. But -vainly, whatever the season, do I open the capsules of the exploited -plant: never do I find the Cionus there, nor its larva, nor its nymph. -This little mystery increases my curiosity. Perhaps the dwarf has -interesting things to tell us. I propose to wrest her secret from her. - -It so happens that a few scallop-leaved mulleins are spreading their -rosettes amid the pebbles of my enclosure. They are not populated, but -I can easily colonize them with specimens from the country round about, -obtained by a few battues over the umbrella. No sooner said than done. -From May onwards I have before my door, without fear of disturbance by -passing Sheep, the means of following the Cionus’ doings, in comfort, -at any hour of the day. - -My colonies flourish. The strangers, satisfied with their new -camping-ground, settle down on the twigs on which I have placed them. -They browse and gently tease one another with their legs: many of them -pair off and gaily spend their lives revelling in the sunshine. Those -coupled together, one on top of the other, are subject to sudden -lurches from side to side, as though impelled by the release of a -vibrating spring. Pauses follow, of varying length; then the lurches -are repeated, cease and begin again. - -Which of the two supplies the motive force of this little piece of -machinery? It seems to me that it is the female, who is rather larger -than the male. The jerking would then be a protest on her part, an -attempt to free herself from the embraces of her companion, who holds -on despite all this shaking. Or again, it may be a common -manifestation, the pair joyfully exulting in a nuptial rolling from -side to side. - -Those who are not coupled plunge their rostrum into the budding flowers -and feast deliciously. Others bore little brown holes in the tiny -twigs, whence oozes a drop of syrup which the Ants will come and lick -up presently. And that, for the moment, is all. There is nothing to -tell us where the eggs will be laid. - -In July, certain capsules, still quite small, green and tender, have at -their base a brown speck which might well be the work of the Cionus -placing her eggs. I have my doubts: most of these punctured capsules -contain nothing. The grubs then left their cell shortly after the -hatching, the aperture, still open, allowing them to pass. - -This emancipation of the new-born grubs, this premature exposure to the -dangers of the outside world, is not consistent with the habits of the -Weevils, who are great stay-at-homes while in the larval state. -Legless, plump, fond of repose, the grub shrinks from change of place; -it grows up on the spot where it was born. - -Another circumstance increases my perplexity. Among the capsules which -the Weevil seems to have perforated with her rostrum, some contain eggs -of an orange yellow, grouped into a single heap of five or six or more. -This multiplicity gives us food for reflection. When fully matured, the -capsules of the scallop-leaved mullein are small, greatly inferior in -size to those of other plants of the same genus. When still very young, -green and tender, those containing the eggs are hardly as big as half a -grain of wheat. There is not food for so many feasters in so tiny a -morsel; there would not be enough for one. - -All mothers are provident. The exploiter of the mullein cannot have -endowed her six or more nurselings with such scanty possessions. For -these various reasons, I doubt at first whether these are really the -Cionus’ eggs. What follows is not calculated to decrease my hesitation. -The orange eggs hatch out, producing grubs which within twenty-four -hours abandon their exiguous natal chamber. They emerge through the -orifice which has been left open; they spread over the capsule, -cropping its down, a pasture sufficient for their first mouthfuls. They -descend to the thin little twigs, which they strip of their bark, and -gradually move on to the small adjacent leaves, where the banquet is -continued. Let us leave them to grow. Their final transformation will -tell me that I really have the authentic larva of the Cionus before my -eyes. - -They are bare, legless grubs, of a uniform pale yellow, excepting the -head, which is black, and the first segment of the thorax, which is -adorned with two large black spots. They are varnished all over their -bodies with a glutinous humour, so much so that they stick to the -paint-brush used to collect them and are difficult to shake off. When -teased, they emit from the end of their intestine a viscous fluid, -apparently the origin of their varnish. - -They wander idly over the young twigs, whose bark they gnaw down to the -wood; they also browse on the leaves growing from the twigs, which are -much smaller than those upon the ground. Having found a good -grazing-place, they stay there without moving, curved into a bow and -held in position by their glue. Their walk is an undulating crawl, -based upon the support of their sticky behind. Helpless cripples, but -coated with an adhesive varnish, they are firmly enough fixed to resist -a shake of the bough that bears them without falling off. When you have -no sort of grapnel to hold on by, the idea of clothing yourself in -glue, so that you may shift your position without danger of falling, -even in a gust of wind, is an original invention of which, as yet, I -know no other instance. - -Our grubs are easily reared. Placed in a glass jar, with a few tender -twigs of the plant that feeds them, they go on browsing for some time -and then make themselves a pretty ampulla in which the transformation -will take place. To observe this performance and discover the method -employed was the chief purpose of my inquiry. I succeeded, though not -without a great expenditure of assiduity. - -All its life long, the larva is smeared, on both its dorsal and its -ventral surface, with a viscous, colourless, strongly adhesive fluid. -Touch the creature lightly, anywhere, with the tip of a camel-hair -pencil. The glutinous matter yields and draws out into a thread of a -certain length. Repeat the touch in the hot sunshine, in very dry -weather. The viscosity is not diminished. Our varnishes dry up; the -grub’s does not; and this is a property of the greatest value, enabling -the feeble larva, without fear of being shrivelled by the wind or the -rays of the sun, to adhere firmly to its food-plant, which loves the -open air and warm, sunny places. - -The laboratory producing this sticky varnish is easily discovered; we -have only to make the creature move along a slip of glass. We see from -time to time a sort of treacly dew oozing from the end of the intestine -and lubricating the last segment. The glue is therefore supplied by the -digestive canal. Is there a special glandular laboratory there, or is -it the intestine itself that prepares the product? I will leave the -question unanswered, for nowadays I no longer have the steady hand or -the keen sight required for delicate dissection. The fact remains that -the grub daubs itself with a glue of which the end of the intestine is -at least the storehouse, if it is not the actual source. - -How is the sticky emission distributed over the whole body, both above -and below? The larva is a legless cripple; it moves about by obtaining -a hold with its behind. Moreover, it is well segmented. The back, in -particular, has a series of fairly protuberant cushions; the ventral -surface, on the other hand, is puckered by knotty excrescences, which -change their shape considerably in the act of crawling. When moving, -with the flexible fore-part of the body groping to find its way, the -grub consists of a series of waves that follow one another in perfect -order. - -Each wave starts from the hinder extremity and by swift degrees reaches -the head. Straightway a second wave follows in the same direction, -succeeded by a third, a fourth and so on, indefinitely. Each of these -waves, proceeding from one end of the grub to the other, is a step. So -long as the wave continues, the fulcrum, that is, the orifice of the -intestine, remains in its place, at first a little before and then a -little behind the movement as a whole. Hence the source of the sticky -dew grazes first the tip of the abdomen and then the end of the back of -the moving grub. In this way the tiny drop of gum is deposited above -and below. - -The glue has still to be distributed. This is done by crawling. Between -the puckers, the cushions, which the locomotory wave brings together -and then separates, alternately come into contact and open clefts into -which the sticky fluid gradually makes its way by capillary action. The -grub clothes itself in glue without exercising any special skill, -merely by moving along. Each locomotory wave, each step, supplies its -quota to the viscous doublet. This makes up for the losses which the -larva cannot fail to suffer on the road as it roams from pasture to -pasture; and, since the fresh material balances the wastage of the old, -a suitable coat is obtained, neither too thin nor too thick. - -The complete coating is rapidly effected. With the tip of a camel-hair -pencil, I wash a grub in a little water. The viscosity dissolves and -disappears; and the water used for washing the larva, evaporated on a -slip of glass, leaves a mark like that of a weak solution of gum -arabic. I place the grub to dry on blotting-paper. When I now touch it -with a straw, it no longer sticks to it; it has lost its coating of -varnish. - -How will it replace it? This is a very simple matter. I allow the grub -to move about at will for a few minutes. No more is needed; the layer -of gum is restored; the creature sticks to the straw that touches it. -To sum up, the varnish with which the Cionus’ larva is covered, is a -viscous fluid, soluble in water, quickly emitted and extremely slow to -dry, even in an intensely hot sun and in the parching breath of the -north-wind. - -Having obtained these data, let us see how the ampulla is constructed -in which the transformation will take place. On the 8th of July 1906, -my son Paul, my zealous collaborator now that my once sturdy legs are -failing me, brings me, on returning from his morning walk, a -magnificent branching head of mullein peopled by the Cionus. It -contains an abundance of larva. Two of them in particular delight me: -while the others stand browsing, these two wander about restlessly, -indifferent to their food. Beyond any doubt, they are looking for a -spot favourable to the process of the nymphosis. - -I place each of them singly in a small glass tube which will allow me -to observe them easily. In case they might find the food-plant useful, -I supply them with a sprig of mullein. And now, lens in hand, from -morning to evening and then by night, as far as drowsiness and the -doubtful light of a candle will permit, let us be on the alert; for -very interesting things are about to happen. Let me describe them hour -by hour. - -8 A.M.—The larva is not making use of the twig with which I provided -it. It is crawling along the glass, darting its pointed head now this -way, now that. With a gentle creeping movement that causes an -undulation of the back and belly, it is trying to settle itself -comfortably. After two hours of this effort, which is certain to be -accompanied by an emission of viscous fluid, it finds a position to its -taste. - -10 A.M.—Being now fixed to the glass, the larva has shrunk into the -semblance of a little barrel, or a grain of wheat with rounded ends. At -one end is a shining black speck. This is the head, jammed into a fold -of the first segment. The grub’s colour is unchanged: it is still a -dirty yellow. - -1 P.M.—A copious emission of fine black granules, followed by semifluid -dejecta. To avoid soiling its future residence and to prepare the -intestine for the delicate chemistry about to follow, the grub purges -itself beforehand of its impurities. It is now a uniform pale yellow, -without the cloudy markings that disfigured it at first. It is lying at -full length on its ventral surface. - -3 P.M.—Under the skin, especially on the back, the lens reveals subtle -pulsations, slight tremors, like those of a liquid surface on the point -of boiling. The dorsal vessel itself is dilating and contracting, -throughout its length, more actively than usual. This means a fit of -fever. Some internal change must be preparing, which will affect the -whole organism. Can it be the preparation for a moult? - -5 P.M.—No, for the grub is no longer motionless. It leaves its heap of -dirt and begins to move along impetuously, more restlessly than ever. -What is happening that is in any way unusual? I think I can obtain some -idea of it with the aid of logic. - -Remember that the sticky coat in which the grub is clad does not dry -up: this is a condition indispensable to liberty of movement. If -changed into a hard varnish, a dry film, it would hamper, would indeed -stop the crawling; but, so long as it remains liquid, it is the drop of -oil that lubricates the locomotory machine. This moist coating will, -however, constitute the material of the nymphosis-bladder: the fluid -will become gold-beater’s-skin, the liquid will solidify. - -This change of condition at first suggests oxidation. We must abandon -this idea. If the hardening were really the result of oxidization, the -grub, being sticky from its birth and always exposed to the air, would -long ago have been clad not in a delicate coat of adhesive, but in a -stiff parchment sheath. Desiccation obviously must take place at the -last moment and rapidly, when the grub is preparing to change its -shape. Before then, this desiccation would be a danger; now, it is an -excellent means of defence. - -To ‘fix’ oil-paintings our ingenuity employs siccatives, that is to -say, ingredients that act upon the oil, giving it a resinous -consistency. The Cionus likewise has its siccative, as the following -facts prove. It may be that the grub was labouring to produce this -desiccating substance, by some profound change in the process of its -organic laboratory, at the time when its poor flesh was quivering with -feverish tremors; it may be that it was proceeding to spread the -siccative over the whole surface of its body by taking a long walk, the -last of its larval life. - -7 P.M.—The larva is once more motionless, lying flat on its belly. Is -this the end of its preparations? Not yet. The globular structure must -have a foundation, a base on which the grub can support itself in order -to dilate its ampulla. - -8 P.M.—Round the head and the fore-part of the thorax, which, like the -rest of the body, are touching the slip of glass, a border of pure -white now appears, as though snow had fallen at these points. This -forms a sort of horse-shoe enclosing an area in which the snowy deposit -is continued in a vague mist. From the base of this border some threads -of the same white substance radiate in short tufts. This structure -denotes work done with the mouth, a miniature wire-drawing. And in fact -no such white substance is seen anywhere except around the head. Thus -the creature’s two ends take part in the building of the hut: the one -in front provides the foundations, the one behind provides the edifice. - -10 P.M.—The larva shrinks. With its support, that is to say, its head -anchored to the snowy cushion, it brings its hinder end a little -nearer; it coils up, hunches its back and gradually turns itself into a -ball. Though not yet perceptible, the ampulla is being prepared. The -siccative has taken effect; the original gumminess has been transformed -into a sort of skin, flexible enough at this moment to be distended by -the pressure of the back. When its capacity is large enough, the grub -will become unglued, throw off its envelope and find itself at liberty -in a spacious enclosure. - -I should much like to see this peeling, but things happen so slowly as -to drive one to despair. Let us go to bed. What I have seen is enough -to enable me to guess the little that remains to be seen. - -Next day, when the pale dawn gives me sufficient light, I hasten to my -two larvæ. The bladder is completed. It is a graceful ovoid of the -finest gold-beater’s-skin, adhering at no point to the insect inside. -It has taken some twenty hours to manufacture. It has still to be -strengthened with a lining. The transparency of the wall enables us to -follow the operation. - -We see the grub’s little black head rising and falling, swerving this -way and that and from time to time gathering with its mandibles, at the -door of the intestine, a particle of cement, which is instantly placed -in position and meticulously smoothed. So the interior of the hut is -plastered, point after point, by small touches. Lest I should not see -clearly through the wall, I cut off the top of a bladder, partly -uncovering the larva. The work is continued without much hesitation. -The strange method is revealed as plainly as one could wish. The grub -makes use of its behind as a store of consolidating cement; the end of -the intestine serves as the equivalent of the hod from which the -bricklayer takes his trowelful of mortar. - -This original mode of procedure is familiar to me. At one time, a big -Weevil, the Spotted Larinus, inhabiting the blue-headed globe-thistle -(Echinops Ritro), enabled me to witness a similar method. The Larinus -also expels its own cement. With the tips of its mandibles it gathers -it from the evacuating orifice, applying it with strict economy. -Moreover it has other materials at its disposal, the hairs and remnants -of the florets of its thistle. Its cement is used only to plaster and -glaze the work. The Cionus’ larva, on the other hand, employs nothing -but the oozings of its intestine; consequently the little hut resulting -is of incomparable perfection. - -Besides the Spotted Larinus, my notes mention other Weevils, for -instance, the Garlic-weevil (Brachycerus algirus), whose larvæ possess -the art of coating their cells with a thin glaze provided by the rump. -This intestinal artifice seems, therefore, to be pretty frequently -employed by the Weevils that build little chambers in which the -metamorphosis is to take place; but none of them excel in it as does -the Cionus. Its task becomes yet more interesting when we consider -that, in the same factory, after a very brief interval, three different -products are compounded: first a liquid glue, a means of adhesion to -the swaying support of the mullein lashed by the winds; then a -siccative fluid which transforms the sticky coating into -gold-beater’s-skin; and lastly a cement which strengthens the bladder -separated from the larva by a sort of moult. What a laboratory, what -exquisite chemistry in a scrap of intestine! - -What use are these minute details, noted hour by hour? Why these -puerilities? What matters to us the industry of a wretched grub, hardly -known even to the professional experts? - -Well, these puerilities involve the most weighty problems that we are -privileged to discuss. Is the world an harmonious creation, governed by -a primordial force, a causa causarum? Or is it a chaos of blind -conflicting forces, whose reciprocal thrusts produce a chance -equilibrium, for better or for worse? Minute entomological details -examined with some thoroughness, may serve us better than syllogisms, -in the scientific investigation of these trifles and others like them. -The humble Cionus, for its part, tells us of a primordial force, the -motive power of the smallest as of the greatest things. - -A day is not too long to give the bladder a good lining. Next day the -larva moults and passes into the nymphal state. Let us complete its -story with the data gleaned in the fields. The cocoons are often found -on the grass near the food-plant, on the stalks and dead blades of the -Gramineæ. Generally, however, they occupy the little twigs of the -mullein, stripped of their bark and withered. The adult insect emerges -sooner or later in September. The gold-beater’s-skin capsule is not -torn irregularly, at random; it is neatly divided into two equal parts, -like the two halves of a soap-box. - -Has the enclosed insect gnawed the casing with its patient tooth and -made a fissure along the equator? No, for the edges of either -hemisphere are perfectly clean-cut. There must, therefore, have been a -circular line ready to facilitate the opening. All that the insect had -to do was to hunch its back and give a slight push, in order to -unfasten the roof of its cabin all in one piece and set itself free. - -I can just see this line of easy rupture on certain intact capsules. It -is a faint line ringing the equator. What does the insect do beforehand -to contrive that its cell shall open in this way? A humble plant, -flowering early in the spring, the blue or scarlet pimpernel, has also -its soap-box, its pyxidium, which splits easily into two hemispheres -when the time comes for the seed to be scattered. In either case it is -the work of an unconscious ingenuity. The grub does not plan its -methods any more than the pimpernel: it has hit upon its ingenious -scheme of joining the halves of its capsule by the inspiration of -instinct alone. - -More numerous than the capsules which burst accurately are others which -are clumsily torn by a shapeless breach. Through this some parasite -must have emerged, some ruthless creature which, unacquainted with the -secret of the delicate joint, has released itself by tearing the -gold-beater’s-skin. I find its larva in cells which are not yet -perforated. It is a small, white grub, fixed to a discoloured tit-bit -which is all that remains of the Cionus’ nymph. The intruder is sucking -dry the rightful occupant, whose budding flesh is still quite tender. I -think I can identify the murderess as a bandit of the Chalcid tribe, -which is addicted to such massacres. - -Her appearance and her gluttonous ways have not misled me. My -rearing-jars provide me with abundant supplies of a small -bronze-coloured Chalcid with a large head and a round, tapering body, -but with no visible boring-tool. To inquire her name of the experts -will not help me much. I do not ask the insect, ‘what are you called?’ -but ‘what are you able to do?’ - -The anonymous parasite hatched in my jars has no implement similar to -that of the Leucospis, [66] the chief of the Chalcididæ; it has no -probe which is able to penetrate a wall and place the egg, at some -distance, on the food-ration. Her germ, therefore, was laid in the very -flanks of the Cionus’ larva, before the latter had built its shell. - -The methods of these tiny brigands appointed to the task of thinning -out the too numerous are extremely varied. Each guild has its own -method, which is always horribly effective. How should so small a -creature as the Cionus cumber the earth? No matter: it has to be -massacred, to perish in its cradle, a victim of the Chalcid. Like other -creatures, the peaceful dwarf must furnish its share of organizable -matter, which will be further and further refined as it passes from -stomach to stomach. - -Let us recapitulate the habits of the Cionus, very strange habits in an -insect of the Weevil series. The mother entrusts her eggs to the -swelling capsules of the scallop-leaved mullein. So far, everything is -according to rule. Other Weevils, as a matter of fact, prefer, when -setting their children up in life, the pods of some other mullein, or -those of the figwort or of the snap-dragon, two plants belonging to one -and the same botanical family. But now we are suddenly confronted with -the strange and exceptional. The mother Cionus chooses the mullein with -the smallest capsules, whereas in the neighbourhood and at the same -season there are others loaded with fruit whose dimensions would -provide spacious lodgings and abundance of food. She prefers dearth to -plenty and narrow to spacious quarters. - -Worse still. Indifferent to leaving provision for her brood, she -nibbles the tender seeds, destroys them, extirpates them, in order to -obtain a cavity in the heart of the tiny globule. Into this she slips -more or less half a dozen eggs. With the edible substance left, were -the whole cell to be consumed, there would not be enough to feed a -single grub. - -When the bread-pan is empty, the house is deserted. The young abandon -their famine-stricken dwelling on the day when they are hatched. They -are bold innovators and practise a method which is held in detestation -among the Weevils, who are all pre-eminently stay-at-homes: they dare -the dangers of the outer world: they travel, passing from one leaf to -another in search of food. This strange exodus, unprecedented in a -Weevil, is not a mere caprice but a necessity imposed on them by -hunger; they migrate because their mother has not provided them with -anything to eat. - -If travelling has its pleasures, enough to make the insect forget the -delights of the cell in which it digests at peace, it also has its -drawbacks. The legless grub can progress only by a sort of creeping -gait. It has no instrument of adherence which will enable it to remain -fixed to the twig, whence the least breath of wind may make it fall. -Necessity is the mother of invention. To guard against the danger of -falling, the wanderer smears itself with a viscous fluid, which -varnishes it and makes it adhere to the trail which it is following. - -But this is not all. When the ticklish moment of the nymphosis arrives, -a retreat in which the grub can undergo its transformation in peace -becomes indispensable. The vagabond has nothing of the sort. It is -homeless, it sleeps in the open air; yet it is able, when the time -comes, to make itself a tent, a capsule, the materials for which are -supplied by its intestine. No other insect of its order can build a -home like this. Let us hope that the hateful Chalcid, the murderer of -nymphs, will not visit it in its pretty little tent. - -The grub that lives on the scallop-leaved mullein has shown an utter -revolution in the habits of the Weevil clan. The better to judge of -this, let us consult a cognate species, placed not far from the Cionus -by the classifiers; let us compare the two kinds of life, on the one -hand the exception and on the other the rule. The comparison will be -all the more useful inasmuch as the new witness also exploits a -mullein. It is known as Gymnetron thapsicola, Germ. - -Dressed in russet homespun, with a plump round body and about the size -of the Cionus: there you have the creature. Note the qualifying -thapsicola, meaning an inhabitant of the thapsus. On this occasion, I -am glad to see, the term could not possibly be happier: it enables the -novice to identify the insect exactly, without other data than the name -of the plant on which it lives. - -The botanist gives the name of Verbascum thapsus to the common mullein, -or shepherd’s club, a lover of the tilled fields in both the north and -the south. Its bloom, instead of branching out like that of the -scallop-leaved mullein, consists of one thick cone of yellow flowers. -These flowers are followed by close-packed capsules about as big as a -fair-sized olive. Here we no longer have the niggardly pods in which -the grub of the Cionus would die of starvation if it did not abandon -them as soon as it is hatched; these caskets contain plenty of victuals -for one larva and even for two. A partition divides them into two equal -compartments, both of them crammed with seeds. - -The fancy took me to estimate roughly the mullein’s wealth of seeds. I -have counted as many as 321 in a single shell. Now a spike of ordinary -size contains 150 capsules. The total number of seeds is therefore -48,000. What can the plant want with such abundance? Allowing for the -small number of seeds required to maintain the species in a thriving -state, it is evident that the mullein is a hoarder of nutritive atoms; -it creates foodstuffs; it summons guests to its opulent banquet. - -Knowing these facts, the Gymnetron, from May onwards, visits the -luxuriant flower-spike and there installs her grubs. The inhabited -capsules may be recognized by the brown speck at their base. This is -the hole bored by the mother’s rostrum, the aperture needed for -inserting the eggs. Usually there are two, corresponding with the two -cells of the fruit. Soon the oozings from the cell set hard and dry and -obstruct the tiny window; and the capsule is closed again, without any -communication with the outer world. - -In June and July, let us open the shells marked with brown specks. -Nearly always we find two grubs, looking fat as butter, with their -fore-parts swollen and their hinder parts shrunken and curved like a -comma. Not a vestige of legs, which members would be very useless in -such a lodging. Lying at its ease, the grub has plenty of food ready to -its mouth: first the tender, sugary seeds; then the placenta, their -common support, which is likewise fleshy and highly flavoured. It is -pleasant to live under such conditions, motionless and devoting one’s -self entirely to the joys of the stomach. - -It would take a cataclysm to upset the smug hermit. This cataclysm I -bring about by opening the cell. Then and there, the grub begins to -twist and wriggle desperately, hating any exposure to the air and -light. It takes more than an hour to recover from its excitement. Here -assuredly is a grub that will never be tempted to leave its home and go -wandering about like the Cionus’ larva. It is most highly domestic by -inheritance and domestic it will remain. - -It refuses even to go next door. In the same capsule, on the other side -of the partition, a neighbour is nibbling away. Never does it pay the -neighbour a visit, though it could easily do so by perforating the -partition, which at this moment is an actual sort of cake, no less -tender than the seeds and the placenta. Each holds the other’s share of -the capsule inviolable. On the one hand is one grub; on the other hand -is another; and never do the two hold the least communication through -the little skylight. A grub’s home is its castle. - -The Gymnetron is so happy in her cell that she stays there a long time -after assuming her adult form. For ten months out of the twelve she -does not leave it. In April, when the buds of the new twigs are -swelling, she pierces the natal capsule, now a mighty donjon; she comes -out and revels in the sun on the recent flower-spikes, which grow daily -longer and thicker; she frisks in couples and, in May, establishes her -family, which will obstinately repeat the sedentary habits of the -elders. - -With these data before us, let us philosophize awhile. Every Weevil -spends its larval life on the spot where the egg was laid. Various -larvæ, it is true, when the time of metamorphosis approaches, migrate -and make their way underground. The Brachycerus abandons its clove of -garlic, the Balaninus its nut or acorn, the Rhynchites its vine-leaf or -poplar-leaf cigar, the Ceuthorhynchus its cabbage stalk. But these -instances of desertion on the part of grubs which have attained their -full growth do not in any way invalidate the rule: all Weevil-larvæ -grow up in the actual place where they are born. - -Now here, by a most unexpected change of tactics, the Cionus-grub, -while still quite young, quits its natal cell, the capsule of the -mullein; it longs for the outer world, that it may browse in the open -air on the bark of a twig; and this entails upon it two inventions -elsewhere unknown: the sticky coat, which gives it a firm hold when it -moves from place to place, and the gold-beater’s-skin ampulla, which -serves to house the nymph. - -What is the cause of this aberration? Two theories are suggested, one -based on decadence, the other on progress. Of old, we tell ourselves, -the mother Cionus, far back in the ages, used to obey the conventions -of her tribe. Like the other Weevils that munch unripe seeds, she -favoured large capsules, enough to feed a sedentary family. Later, by -inadvertence or flightiness or for some other reason, she turned her -attention to the stingy scollop-leaved mullein. Faithful to ancient -custom she rightly chose for her domain a plant of the same family as -that which she first exploited; but it unfortunately happens that the -mullein adopted is incapable of feeding a single grub in its fruit, -which is too small for the purpose. The mother’s ineptitude has led to -decadence; the perils of a wandering life have taken the place of a -peaceful, sedentary existence. The species is on the high road to -extinction. - -Again, we might argue as follows, at the outset, the Cionus had the -scallop-leaved mullein as her portion; but, since the grubs do not -thrive when thus installed, the mother is searching for a better means -of setting them up in life. Gradual experiment will one day show her -the way. From time to time, indeed, I find her on Vervascum maiale or -Verbascum thapsus, both of which have large capsules; only she is there -by accident, in the course of a trip, thinking of obtaining a good -drink and not of laying her eggs. Sooner or later, the future will -establish her there for the sake of her family. The species is in -process of improvement. - -By dressing up the matter in uncouth phrases, calculated to conceal the -vagueness of the thought behind them, we might represent the Cionus as -a magnificent example of the changes which the centuries bring about in -the habits of insects. This would sound extremely learned, but would it -be very intelligible? I doubt it. When my eyes fall upon a page -bristling with barbarous and so-called scientific locution, I say to -myself: - -‘Take care! The author has not quite grasped what he is saying, or he -would have found, in the vocabulary hammered out by so many brilliant -minds, words that would express his thought more plainly.’ - -Boileau, [67] who has been denied poetic inspiration, but who certainly -possessed common-sense and plenty of it, tells us: - -‘Ce que l’on conçoit bien s’énonce clairement.’ [68] - -Just so, Nicolas! Yes, clearness, clearness always! He calls a spade a -spade. Let us do as he does, let us qualify as gibberish any -over-learned prose that reminds us of Voltaire’s witty sally: - -‘When the listener does not understand and the speaker does not himself -know what he is saying, then they are talking metaphysics.’ - -‘And advanced science,’ let us add. - -We will confine ourselves to stating the problem of the Cionus, without -much hope that some day it will be clearly solved. For that matter, if -the truth be told, it may be that there is no problem at all. The grub -of the Cionus was a vagabond in the beginning and a vagabond it will -remain, among the other Weevil-grubs, which are all essentially -stay-at-home larvæ. Let us leave it at that: it is the simplest and -most lucid explanation. - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] The Vocontii were a nation of Gauls inhabiting the Viennaise, -between the Allobroges on the north, the Caturiges and the estates of -King Cottius on the east, the Cavares on the west and the Memini and -Vulgientes on the south. Vasio (Vocontia), now Vaison, was their -capital.—Translator’s Note. - -[2] Caius Plinius Secundus (23–79), known as Pliny the Elder, or the -Naturalist, to distinguish him from his nephew Caius Plinius Cæcilius -Secundus (61–c. 115), commonly called Pliny the Younger, the historian. -He was the author of the famous Naturalis Historia.—Translator’s Note. - -[3] The Garden Warbler, or Bush-pipet, a bird which is considered a -great delicacy, especially in the autumn, when it feeds on figs, grapes -and so on. Cf. The Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xii.—Translator’s Note. - -[4] From Massalia, the ancient name of Marseilles, of which Phocæa, in -Asia Minor, was the mother city.—Translators Note. - -[5] ‘The god made these hours of leisure for us.’—Translator’s Note. - -[6] Colony of Nîmes. Nemansus was the Latin name of Nîmes.—Translator’s -Note. - -[7] A form of Mussel.—Translator’s Note. - -[8] Another genus of bivalve molluscs.—Translator’s Note. - -[9] Piddocks.—Translator’s Note. - -[10] Or Cone-shells.—Translator’s Note. - -[11] Bivalved Ostracods.—Translator’s Note. - -[12] A genus of molluscs including the Surf Clams and related -species.—Translator’s Note. - -[13] Gastropods with a rough, spinose shell.—Translator’s Note. - -[14] Gastropods with an elongated, turreted shell.—Translator’s Note. - -[15] Or Mitre-shells. Gastropods with a fusiform shell suggesting a -bishop’s mitre.—Translator’s Note. - -[16] Or Ground-beetle. Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles, by J. Henri -Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. -xiii.—Translator’s Note. - -[17] Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[18] Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chap. viii.—Translator’s -Note. - -[19] The Great Water-beetle. Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chap. -x.—Translator’s Note. - -[20] The Whirligig Beetle. Cf. The Life of the Fly, by J. Henri Fabre, -translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. vii.—Translator’s -Note. - -[21] A carnivorous Water-beetle. Cf. idem: chaps. vii. and -viii.—Translator’s Note. - -[22] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chapters i. to v.—Translator’s Note. - -[23] Cf. idem: chapter xiv. and passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[24] Cf. The Life of the Fly: chapter iii.—Translator’s Note. - -[25] Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chapter xiv., in which the activities of -one of the Ichneumon-flies, Microgaster glomeratus are -described.—Translator’s Note. - -[26] Marcus Vitruvius Pollio (fl. 1st century B.C.), the Roman -architect and engineer, author of De Architectura.—Translator’s Note. - -[27] For the Onitis and Onthophagus Dung-beetles, cf. The Sacred Beetle -and Others: chapters xi. and xiv. to xviii.—Translator’s Note. - -[28] Rose-chafers. Cf. More Hunting Wasps: chap. iv.—Translator’s Note. - -[29] ·585 by ·39 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[30] ·585 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[31] Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others: chaps. ix., x. and -xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[32] Or Burying-beetle. Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chaps. xi. -and xii.—Translator’s Note. - -[33] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chaps. iv. to x.—Translator’s Note. - -[34] The Large White, or Cabbage, Butterfly. Cf. The Life of the -Caterpillar: chap. xiv.—Translator’s Note. - -[35] A genus of very decorative Butterflies, including such well-known -species as the Red Admiral, the Painted Lady, the Camberwell Beauty, -the Tortoiseshell Butterfly and the Peacock Butterfly.—Translator’s -Note. - -[36] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chaps. i. to iii.—Translator’s Note. - -[37] The nearest mountain to the author’s village. Cf. The Hunting -Wasps: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[38] From the Latin balanus, an acorn.—Translator’s Note. - -[39] The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xiv.—Translator’s Note. - -[40] The Mason-bee. Cf. The Mason-bees: passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[41] Jean de La Fontaine (1621–1695).—Translator’s Note. - -[42] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: passim; also More Hunting Wasps, by J. -Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: -passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[43] The Silk-worm Moth.—Translator’s Note. - -[44] Francis Vincent Raspail (1794–1878), a French physician and -politician, one of the early advocates of universal -suffrage.—Translator’s Note. - -[45] H. pomatia is the Large Edible Snail.—Translator’s Note. - -[46] Or Wheel Animalcule.—Translator’s Note. - -[47] For these Cotton-bees and Resin-bees, cf. Bramble-bees and Others, -by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. -ix. and x.—Translator’s Note. - -[48] Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chaps. ix. and -x.—Translator’s Note. - -[49] ·156 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[50] About 1⁄25 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[51] Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others: chaps. ix. and x.—Translator’s -Note. - -[52] For both these Beetles and also for the next insect mentioned in -the text, Phanæus Milon, cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chap. -ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[53] Marcus Terentius Varro (B.C. 116–circa B.C. 27), a famous Roman -scholar, author of De Re Rustica and for some time director of the -public library.—Translator’s Note. - -[54] Lucius Junius Moderatus Columella (fl. 1st century A.D.), author -of a work, De Re Rustica, bearing the same title as -Varro’s.—Translator’s Note. - -[55] A very large, prehistoric Bear (Ursus spelæus) whose remains are -common in European caves, including those of England.—Translator’s -Note. - -[56] The modern classification places the Pea- and Haricot-weevils in a -separate family, the Bruchidæ, whereas the family of the Curculionidæ -includes most of the other, or true, Weevils.—Translator’s Note. - -[57] 1⁄25 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[58] Or, if the reader prefers, the Swell-belly. Gus, in the Provençal -dialect, means both ‘guts’ and ‘bigger.’—Translator’s Note. - -[59] ‘And Thestylis wild thyme and garlic beats - For harvest hinds, o’erspent with toil and heats.’— - - Pastorals, ii., Dryden’s translation. - -[60] Book i., line 227 et seq.—Author’s Note. - -[61] ‘Vile vetches would you sow, or lentils lean? - The growth of Egypt, or the kidney-bean? - Begin when the slow Waggoner descends, - Nor cease your sowing till mid-winter ends.’ - - —Dryden’s translation. - -[62] The Academician (1842–1905).—Translator’s Note. - -[63] Annales politiques et littéraires: Les Enfants jugés par leurs -Pères. Christmas number, 1901.—Author’s Note. - -[64] The enclosed piece of waste land on which the author used to study -his insects in the wild state. Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. -i.—Translator’s Note. - -[65] The essays on Minotaurus typhæus will appear in the next volume of -the series, to be entitled Mere Beetles.—Translator’s Note. - -[66] The Life of the Fly: chaps. ii. and iii.—Translators Note. - -[67] Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux (1636–1711), author of L’Art poétique -and other poetical, critical and satirical works.—Translator’s Note. - -[68] ‘That which is well conceived is also clearly stated.’ - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL *** - -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. 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font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Weevil, by J. Henri Fabre</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Life of the Weevil</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: J. Henri Fabre and Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 29, 2021 [eBook #66844]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>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)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL ***</div> -<div class="front"> -<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/frontcover.jpg" alt="Original Front Cover." width="516" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e102">THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 advertisement"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e107">‘THE INSECT’S HOMER’ -</p> -<p class="xd31e109"><i>Maurice Maeterlinck</i> -</p> -<p class="xd31e112">THE LIFE OF <br>JEAN HENRI FABRE -</p> -<p>THE LIFE OF JEAN HENRI FABRE, The Entomologist. By the <span class="sc">Abbé Augustin Fabre</span>. Translated by <span class="sc">Bernard Miall</span>. -</p> -<p class="xd31e112">THE WORKS OF <br>JEAN HENRI FABRE -</p> -<ul class="xd31e128"> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3462">MORE HUNTING WASPS</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27868">THE GLOW-WORM AND OTHER BEETLES</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1887">THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3422">THE LIFE OF THE FLY</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66762">THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66650">THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3421">BRAMBLE-BEES AND OTHERS</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2884">THE MASON-BEES</a> </li> -<li>THE HUNTING WASPS </li> -<li>THE MASON-WASPS </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66743">THE SACRED BEETLE AND OTHERS</a> </li> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL </li> -<li>THE WONDER BOOK OF SCIENCE </li> -<li>THE STORY BOOK OF THE FIELDS </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e44" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45812">INSECT ADVENTURES</a> </li> -<li>THE STORY BOOK OF BIRDS AND BEASTS </li> -<li>THE STORY BOOK OF SCIENCE </li> -</ul><p> -</p> -<p class="xd31e178">ALSO -</p> -<p class="xd31e180">FABRE’S BOOK OF INSECTS <br>Illustrated with Plates in Colour by <span class="sc">E. J. Detmold</span> -</p> -<p class="xd31e178">HODDER & STOUGHTON LIMITED <br>Publishers LONDON, E.C. 4 -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="465" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="titlePage"> -<div class="docTitle"> -<div class="seriesTitle orange">THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE</div> -<div class="mainTitle">THE LIFE OF THE WEEVIL</div> -</div> -<div class="byline">BY <br><span class="docAuthor orange">J. HENRI FABRE</span> -<br><i>Translated by</i> <br><span class="docAuthor">ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS, F.Z.S.</span> </div> -<div class="docImprint"><span class="orange">HODDER AND STOUGHTON</span> <br>LIMITED LONDON </div> -</div> -<p></p> -<div class="div1 copyright"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e178"><i>Copyright in the United States of America</i>, 1922, <br><i>by Dodd, Mead & Company, Inc.</i> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.v">[<a href="#pb.v">v</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="translator" class="div1 preface"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e262">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Translator’s Note</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have gathered into this volume the essays on Weevils contained in the <i lang="fr">Souvenirs entomologiques</i>, lest I should swell unduly the number of volumes devoted to Beetles, of which there -will be three in all, or four if we include the present book. -</p> -<p>Chapters I. and VII. to IX. have already appeared, wholly or in part, in an illustrated -miscellany, entitled <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>, translated by myself and published by Messrs. Adam and Charles Black (in America -by the Macmillan Co.), and Chapter V. and parts of Chapters XI. and XII. in a similar -volume, entitled <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>, translated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published by Messrs. T. Fisher Unwin Ltd. (in -America by the Century Co.). I am permitted by arrangement with the firms named to -retranslate and reissue the chapters in question for the purpose of this collected -and definitive edition of Fabre’s entomological works. -</p> -<p>I am also under no small obligation to Mr. Miall, who has given me the benefit of -his assistance throughout. -</p> -<p class="signed"><span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.vii">[<a href="#pb.vii">vii</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Contents</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"> <span class="tocPageNum xd31e258">PAGE</span> -</p> -<p><a href="#translator" id="xd31e262">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</a> <span class="tocPageNum">V</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER I </p> -<p><a href="#ch1" id="xd31e270">THE OLD WEEVILS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">1</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER II </p> -<p><a href="#ch2" id="xd31e278">THE SPOTTED LARINUS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">18</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER III </p> -<p><a href="#ch3" id="xd31e286">THE BEAR LARINUS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">43</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER IV </p> -<p><a href="#ch4" id="xd31e294">THE BOTANICAL INSTINCT</a> <span class="tocPageNum">58</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER V </p> -<p><a href="#ch5" id="xd31e303">THE ELEPHANT WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">71</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER VI </p> -<p><a href="#ch6" id="xd31e311">THE NUT-WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">94</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER VII </p> -<p><a href="#ch7" id="xd31e319">THE POPLAR-WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">112</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.viii">[<a href="#pb.viii">viii</a>]</span></p> -<p>CHAPTER VIII </p> -<p><a href="#ch8" id="xd31e328">THE VINE-WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">127</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER IX </p> -<p><a href="#ch9" id="xd31e336">OTHER LEAF-ROLLERS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">140</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER X </p> -<p><a href="#ch10" id="xd31e345">THE SLOE-WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">157</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XI </p> -<p><a href="#ch11" id="xd31e353">THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE EGGS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">184</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XII </p> -<p><a href="#ch12" id="xd31e361">THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE LARVA</a> <span class="tocPageNum">199</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XIII </p> -<p><a href="#ch13" id="xd31e369">THE HARICOT-WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">213</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XIV </p> -<p><a href="#ch14" id="xd31e377">THE IRIS-WEEVIL</a> <span class="tocPageNum">235</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XV </p> -<p><a href="#ch15" id="xd31e385">THE CIONUS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">246</span> -</p> -<p><a href="#ix" id="xd31e393">INDEX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">275</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="body"> -<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e270">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter i</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE OLD WEEVILS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In winter, when the insect takes an enforced rest, the study of numismatics affords -me some delightful moments. I love to interrogate its metal disks, the records of -the petty things which men call history. In this soil of Provence, where the Greek -planted the olive-tree and the Roman planted the law, the peasant finds coins, scattered -more or less everywhere, when he turns the sod. He brings them to me and consults -me upon their pecuniary value, never upon their meaning. -</p> -<p>What matters to him the inscription on his treasure-trove! Men suffered of yore, they -suffer to-day, they will suffer in the future: to him all history is summed up in -that! The rest is sheer futility, a pastime of the idle. -</p> -<p>I do not possess this lofty philosophy of indifference to things of the past. I scratch -the piece of money with my finger-nail, I carefully strip it of its earthy rind, I -examine it with the magnifying-glass, I try to decipher its lettering. And my satisfaction -is no small one when the bronze or silver disk has spoken. For then I have read a -page of humanity, not in books, which are <span class="pageNum" id="pb2">[<a href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>chroniclers open to suspicion, but in records which are, in a manner, living and which -were contemporary with the persons and the facts. -</p> -<p>This bit of silver, flattened with the die, speaks to me of the Vocontii.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e414src" href="#xd31e414">1</a> -</p> -<p>‘<span class="asc">VOOC … VOCUNT</span>,’ says the inscription. -</p> -<p>It comes from the small neighbouring town of Vaison, where Pliny the naturalist<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e425src" href="#xd31e425">2</a> sometimes spent a holiday. Here perhaps, at his host’s table, the celebrated compiler -learnt to appreciate the Beccafico,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e434src" href="#xd31e434">3</a> famous among the Roman epicures and still renowned to-day, under the name of <i>Grasset</i>, among our Provençal gastronomers. It is a pity that my bit of silver says nothing -of these events, more memorable than any battle. -</p> -<p>It shows on one side a head and on the other a galloping horse, all barbarously inaccurate. -A child trying its hand for the first time with a <span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span>sharp-pointed stone on the fresh mortar of the walls would produce no more shapeless -design. No, of a surety, those bold Allobroges were no artists. -</p> -<p>How greatly superior to them were the foreigners from Phocæa! Here is a drachma of -the Massalietes:<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e448src" href="#xd31e448">4</a> <span class="asc"><span class="trans" title="MASSALIĒTŌN"><span lang="grc" class="grek">ΜΑΣΣΑΛΙΗΤΩΝ</span></span></span>. On the obverse, a head of Diana of Ephesus, chub-faced, full-cheeked, thick-lipped. -A receding forehead, surmounted by a diadem; an abundant head of hair, streaming down -the neck in a cascade of curls; heavy ear-drops, a pearl necklace, a bow slung over -the shoulder. Thus was the idol decked by the hands of the pious Syrian. -</p> -<p>To tell the truth, it is not æsthetic. It is sumptuous, if you will, and preferable, -after all, to the donkey’s-ears which our modern beauties wear perched upon their -heads. What a singular freak is fashion, so fertile in the means of uglification! -Commerce knows nothing of loveliness, says this divinity of the traders; it prefers -profit, embellished with luxury. So speaks the drachma. -</p> -<p>On the reverse, a lion clawing the ground and roaring wide-mouthed. Not of to-day -alone is the savagery that symbolizes power in the shape of some formidable brute, -as though evil were the supreme expression of strength. The eagle, the lion and other -marauders often figure on the reverse of coins. But reality is not sufficient; <span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span>the imagination invents monstrosities: the centaur, the dragon, the griffin, the unicorn, -the double-headed eagle. -</p> -<p>Are the inventors of these emblems so greatly superior to the Redskin who celebrates -the prowess of his scalping-knife with a Bear’s paw, a Falcon’s wing or a Puma’s tooth -stuck in his hair? We may safely doubt it. -</p> -<p>How preferable to these heraldic horrors is the reverse of our own silver coinage -recently brought into circulation! It represents a sower who, with a nimble hand, -at sunrise, fills the furrows with the good seed of thought. It is very simple and -it is great; it makes us reflect. -</p> -<p>The Marseilles drachma has for its sole merit its magnificent relief. The artist who -made the dies was a master of the graver’s tool; but he lacked the breath of inspiration. -His chub-faced Diana is no better than a trollop. -</p> -<p>Here is the <span class="asc">NAMASAT</span> of the Volscæ, which became the colony of Nîmes. Side by side, profiles of Augustus -and of his minister Agrippa. The former, with his dour forehead, his flat skull, his -acquisitive broken nose, inspires me with but little confidence, notwithstanding what -gentle Virgil said of him: <i lang="la">Deus nobis hæc otia fecit</i>.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e478src" href="#xd31e478">5</a> It is success that makes gods. Had he not succeeded in his criminal projects, Augustus -the divine would have remained Octavius the scoundrel. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span></p> -<p>His minister pleases me better. He was a great mover of stones, who, with his building -operations, his aqueducts and his roads, came and civilized the rude Volscæ a little. -Not far from my village a splendid road crosses the plain, starting from the banks -of the Aygues, and climbs up yonder, tedious in its monotonous length, to cross the -Sérignan hills, under the protection of a mighty <i>oppidum</i>, which, much later, became the old castle, the <i>castelas</i>. It is a section of Agrippa’s Road, which joined Marseilles and Vienne. The majestic -ribbon, twenty centuries old, is still frequented. We no longer see the little brown -foot-soldier of the Roman legions upon it; in his stead we see the peasant going to -market at Orange, with his flock of Sheep or his drove of unruly Porkers. Of the two -I prefer the peasant. -</p> -<p>Let us turn over our green-crusted penny. ‘<span class="asc">COL. NEM.</span>,’<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e494src" href="#xd31e494">6</a> the reverse tells us. The inscription is accompanied by a Crocodile chained to a -palm-tree from which hang crowns. It is an emblem of Egypt, conquered by the veterans -who founded the colony. The beast typifying the Nile gnashes its teeth at the foot -of the familiar tree. It speaks to us of Antony, the Don Juan; it tells us of Cleopatra, -whose nose, had it been an inch shorter, would have changed the face of the globe. -Thanks to the memories which it awakens, <span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span>the scaly-backed reptile becomes a superb historical lesson. -</p> -<p>In this way, the important lessons of the numismatics of metals might be continued -for many a day and be constantly varied without departing from my immediate neighbourhood. -But there is another science of numismatics, far superior and less costly, which, -with its medals, the fossils, tells us the history of life. I refer to the numismatics -of stones. -</p> -<p>My very window-sill, the confidant of bygone ages, talks to me of a vanished world. -It is, literally speaking, an ossuary, whose every particle retains the imprint of -past lives. That block of stone has lived. Prickly spines of Sea-urchins, teeth and -vertebræ of fish, broken pieces of shells and fragments of madrepores form a conglomeration -of dead existences. Examined stone by stone, my house would resolve itself into a -reliquary, a rag-fair of ancient things that were once alive. -</p> -<p>The rocky stratum from which we extract our building materials in these parts covers -with its mighty shell the greater portion of the neighbouring uplands. Here the quarryman -has been digging for none knows how many centuries, perhaps since the time when Agrippa -hewed Cyclopean blocks to form the stages and the face of the theatre at Orange. And -here daily the pick-axe uncovers curious fossils. The most remarkable of these are -<span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span>teeth, still wonderfully polished in the midst of their rough matrix and as bright -with enamel as in the fresh state. Some of them are formidable, three-cornered, finely -jagged at the edges, almost as large as a man’s hand. What a yawning gulf, a jaw armed -with such a set of teeth in manifold rows, placed stepwise almost to the back of the -gullet! What mouthfuls, snapped up and lacerated by those notched shears! You shiver -at the mere thought of reconstructing that awful implement of destruction! -</p> -<p>The monster thus equipped as a prince of death belonged to the family of the Squali. -Palæontology calls him <i lang="la">Carcharodon megalodon</i>. Our modern Shark, the terror of the seas, gives an approximate idea of him, in so -far as a dwarf can give an idea of a giant. -</p> -<p>Other Squali, all ferocious gluttons, abound within the same stone. It contains Oxyrhinæ -(<i lang="la">O. xyphodon</i>, <span class="sc">Agass.</span>), whose jaws are furnished with curved and toothed Malay creeses; Lamiæ (<i lang="la">L. denticulata</i>, <span class="sc">Agass.</span>), whose mouths bristle with sharp, flexuous daggers, flat on one side, convex on -the other; and Notidani (<i lang="la">N. primigenius</i>, <span class="sc">Agass.</span>), whose sunken teeth are crowned with radiating indentations. -</p> -<p>This dental arsenal, bearing eloquent witness to bygone massacres, can hold its own -with the Nîmes Crocodile, the Marseilles Diana or the Vaison Horse. With its panoply -of carnage, it tells me <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>how extermination came at all times to prune the excess of life; it says: -</p> -<p>‘On the very spot where you stand meditating upon a splinter of stone, an arm of the -sea once stretched, filled with warlike devourers and peaceful victims. A deep inlet -occupied the future site of the Rhone valley. Its billows broke not far from your -house.’ -</p> -<p>Here in fact are the cliffs of the shore, in such a state of preservation that, when -I concentrate my thoughts, I seem to hear the thunder of curving billows. Sea-urchins, -Lithodomi,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e540src" href="#xd31e540">7</a> Petricolæ,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e544src" href="#xd31e544">8</a> Pholades<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e548src" href="#xd31e548">9</a> have left their signatures upon the rock: hemispherical recesses large enough to -contain one’s fist; circular cells; cabins with a narrow opening through which the -recluse received the incoming water, laden with food and constantly renewed. Sometimes -the erstwhile occupant is there, mineralized, intact to the smallest details of his -striæ, of his scales, a brittle ornamentation; more often he has disappeared, fallen -into decay, and his house has filled with a fine sea-mud, hardened into a chalky kernel. -</p> -<p>In this quiet inlet, collected by some eddy from the surrounding sea-bed and sunk -to the bottom of the oozes, now turned into marl, there are stupendous deposits of -shells, of every shape and <span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span>size. It is a molluscs’ burying-ground, with hills for tumuli. I dig up Oysters eighteen -inches long and weighing five or six pounds apiece. One could scoop up from this enormous -heap Scallops, Coni,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e556src" href="#xd31e556">10</a> Cytheres,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e560src" href="#xd31e560">11</a> Mactræ,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e564src" href="#xd31e564">12</a> Murices,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e568src" href="#xd31e568">13</a> Turritellæ,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e573src" href="#xd31e573">14</a> Mitræ<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e577src" href="#xd31e577">15</a> and others too numerous, too innumerable, to mention. You stand stupefied before -the intense vitality of the days of old, which was able to supply us with such a mass -of relics in a mere hole in the ground. -</p> -<p>This necropolis of shells tells us also that time, that patient renewer of the harmony -of things, has mown down not only the individual, a precarious being, but also the -species. Nowadays the neighbouring sea, the Mediterranean, contains hardly anything -identical with the population of the vanished gulf. To find a few features of resemblance -between the present and the past, we should have to seek them in the tropical seas. -</p> -<p>The climate therefore has become colder; the sun is slowly approaching extinction; -the species are dying out. Thus I am told by the numismatics of my stone window-sill. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span></p> -<p>Without leaving my field of observation, so modest and restricted and yet so rich, -let us once more consult the stone and this time on the subject of the insect. The -country around Apt abounds in a curious rock that breaks off in flakes, not unlike -sheets of whity-grey cardboard, which burn with a sooty flame and a bituminous smell. -It was deposited at the bottom of the great lakes haunted by Crocodiles and giant -Tortoises. Those lakes were never beheld by human eye. Their basins have been replaced -by the range of the hills; their muds, slowly deposited in thin layers, have become -mighty ridges of stone. -</p> -<p>Let us remove a slab and subdivide it into flakes with the point of a knife, a task -as easy as separating the superimposed sheets of a piece of paste-board. In so doing -we are examining a volume taken from the library of the mountains; we are turning -the pages of a magnificently illustrated book. It is a manuscript of nature, far superior -to any Egyptian papyrus. On almost every page are diagrams, nay better, realities -converted into pictures. -</p> -<p>Here is a page of fish, grouped at random. One might take them for a dish fried in -oil. Backbone, fins, vertebral column, the little bones of the head, the crystalline -lens turned into a black globule: all is there, in its natural arrangement. One thing -alone is absent: the flesh. No matter: our dish of gudgeons looks so good that we -feel <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>tempted to scratch a bit off with our finger and taste this super-secular preserve. -Let us indulge our fancy and put between our teeth a morsel of this mineral fry seasoned -with petroleum. -</p> -<p>There is no inscription to the picture. Reflection makes good the deficiency. It tells -us: -</p> -<p>‘These fish lived here, in large numbers, in peaceful waters. Suddenly a spate came, -asphyxiating them in its mud-thickened torrent. Buried forthwith in the mire and thus -rescued from the agents of destruction, they have endured through time and will endure -indefinitely, under the cover of their winding-sheet.’ -</p> -<p>The same flood brought from the adjacent rain-swept shores a host of refuse, both -vegetable and animal, so much so that the lacustrian deposit tells also of things -on land. It is a general record of the life of the time. -</p> -<p>Let us turn a page of our slab, or rather of our album. Here are winged seeds, leaves -outlined in brown impressions. The stone herbal rivals the botanical clearness of -our ordinary herbals. It repeats what the shells have already taught us: the world -is changing, the sun is losing its strength. The vegetation of modern Provence is -not what it was in the old days; it no longer includes palm-trees, laurels oozing -with camphor, tufted araucarias and many other trees and shrubs whose equivalents -belong to the torrid regions. -</p> -<p>Continue to turn the pages. We now come to <span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>insects. The most frequent are Diptera, of moderate size, often very humble Flies -and Gnats. The teeth of the great Squali surprised us by their smooth polish amid -the roughness of their chalky matrix. What shall we say of these frail Midges enshrined -intact in their marly reliquary? The feeble creature, which our fingers could not -pick up without crushing it, remains undisturbed beneath the weight of the mountains! -The six slender legs, which the least touch is enough to disjoint, lie spread upon -the stone, correct in shape and arrangement, in the attitude of the insect at rest. -There is nothing lacking, not even the tiny double claws at the end of the tarsi. -Here are the two wings, unfurled. The fine network of their veins can be studied under -the lens as clearly as in the Fly of our collections, stuck on a pin. The antennary -plumes have lost none of their fragile grace; the abdomen gives us the number of the -segments, edged with a row of specks which once were cilia. -</p> -<p>Even the carcase of a Mastodon, defying time in its sandy bed, fills us with amazement; -a Gnat of exquisite delicacy, preserved intact in the thickness of the rock, staggers -our imagination. -</p> -<p>Certainly, the Mosquito, borne along by the floods, did not come from far away. Before -he arrived, some turbulent streamlet must have reduced him to the nothingness to which -he was already so near. Slain by the joys of a morning—<span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>a long life for a Gnat—he fell from the top of his reed, was straightway drowned and -disappeared in the muddy catacombs. -</p> -<p>Who are these others, these dumpy creatures, with hard, convex wing-cases, which next -to the Flies are the most numerous. Their small heads, prolonged into a snout, tell -us beyond dispute. They are proboscidian Beetles, Rhynchophoræ, or, in simpler terms, -Weevils. There are small ones, middling ones, large ones, similar in dimensions to -their counterparts of to-day. -</p> -<p>Their position on the limestone slab is not as correct as the Mosquito’s. The legs -are entangled anyhow; the beak, the rostrum, is now hidden under the breast, now projects -forward. Some display it in profile; others—more frequent these—stretch it to one -side, as the result of a twisted neck. These contorted insects, with their dislocated -members, did not receive the swift and peaceful burial of the Flies. Though sundry -of them may have lived on the plants by the shore, the others, the majority, come -from the surrounding parts, carried by the rain-water, which warped their joints in -crossing such obstacles as twigs and stones. A suit of armour has kept the body unscathed, -but the delicate articulations of the members have given way to some extent; and the -muddy winding-sheet received the drowned Beetles as the ravages of the journey left -them. -</p> -<p>These strangers, coming perhaps from afar, <span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>supply us with valuable information. They tell us that, if the shores of the gulf -had the Mosquito as chief representative of the insect class, the woods had the Weevil. -</p> -<p>Apart from the snout-bearing family, the pages of my Apt rock show me scarcely anything -else, especially in the order of the Beetles. Where are the other terrestrial groups, -the Carabus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e613src" href="#xd31e613">16</a> the Dung-beetle,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e619src" href="#xd31e619">17</a> the Capricorn,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e627src" href="#xd31e627">18</a> whom the wash of the rains, indifferent as to its harvest, would have brought to -the lake even as it did the Weevil? There is not the least vestige of those tribes, -so prosperous to-day. -</p> -<p>Where are the Hydrophilus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e635src" href="#xd31e635">19</a> the Gyrinus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e641src" href="#xd31e641">20</a> the Dytiscus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e647src" href="#xd31e647">21</a> all inhabitants of the water? These lacustrians had every chance of being handed -down to us as mummies between two sheets of marl. If there were any in those days, -they used to live <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>in the lake, whose mud would have preserved these horn-clad insects even more effectually -than the little fishes and more especially the Fly. Well, of these aquatic Beetles -there is no trace either. -</p> -<p>Where were they, where were those who are missing from the geological reliquary? Where -were the inhabitants of the thickets, of the green-swards, of the worm-eaten tree-trunks: -Capricorns, borers of wood; Sacred Beetles, workers in dung; Carabi, disembowellers -of game? One and all were in the limbo of the time to come. The present of that period -did not possess them; the future awaited them. The Weevil, if I may credit the modest -records which I am able to consult, must therefore be the oldest of the Beetles. -</p> -<p>In the beginning, life fashioned oddities which would be screaming discords in the -present harmony of things. When it invented the saurian, it revelled at first in monsters -from fifteen to twenty yards long. It placed horns upon their noses and above their -eyes, paved their backs with fantastic scales, and hollowed their necks into spiny -pouches wherein their heads withdrew as into a hood. It even tried, though with no -great success, to give them wings. After these horrors, the procreating ardour calmed -down and produced the charming Green Lizard of our hedges. -</p> -<p>When it invented the bird, it filled its beak with the reptile’s pointed teeth and -suspended from <span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span>its rump a long, feather-clad tail. These indeterminate and revoltingly hideous creatures -were the distant prelude to the Robin Redbreast and the Dove. -</p> -<p>All these primitives are noted for a very small skull, an idiot’s brain. The prehistoric -animal is first and foremost an atrocious machine for grabbing, with a stomach for -digesting. The intellect does not count as yet. That will come later. -</p> -<p>The Weevil, in his fashion, repeats these aberrations to a certain extent. See the -extravagant appendage to his little head. It is here a short, thick snout; there a -sturdy beak, round or cut four-square; elsewhere a foolish reed, thin as a hair, long -as the body and longer. At the tip of this egregious instrument, in the terminal mouth, -are the fine shears of the mandibles; on either side, the antennæ, with their first -joints fitting into a groove. -</p> -<p>What is the use of this beak, this snout, this caricature of a nose? Where did the -insect find the model for it? Nowhere. The Weevil invented it and retains the monopoly. -Outside his family, no Beetle indulges in these nasal eccentricities. -</p> -<p>Observe also the smallness of the head, a bulb that hardly swells beyond the base -of the snout. What can it have inside? A very poor nervous equipment, the sign of -exceedingly limited instincts. Before seeing them at work, we have a poor opinion -<span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>of the intelligence of these microcephalics; we class them among the obtuse, among -creatures deprived of industry. These surmises will not be greatly belied. -</p> -<p>Though the Weevil be but little glorified by his talents, this is no reason for despising -him. As we learn from the lacustrian schists, he was in the van of the insects with -the armoured wing-cases; he was long stages ahead of those which were working out -new forms within the limits of the possible. He speaks to us of primitive shapes, -sometimes so quaint; he is in his own little world what the bird with the toothed -mandibles and the saurian with the horned eyebrows are in a higher world. -</p> -<p>In ever-thriving legions, he has come down to us without changing his characteristics. -He is to-day as he was in the youth of the continents: the pictures on the chalky -slates proclaim the fact aloud. Under any such picture I would venture to write the -name of the genus, sometimes even of the species. -</p> -<p>Permanence of instinct must go with permanence of form. By consulting the modern Weevil -we shall therefore obtain a chapter closely approximate to the biology of his predecessors -at the time when Provence was a land of great lakes shaded by palm-trees and filled -with Crocodiles. The history of the present will teach us the history of the past. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e414"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e414src">1</a></span> The Vocontii were a nation of Gauls inhabiting the Viennaise, between the Allobroges -on the north, the Caturiges and the estates of King Cottius on the east, the Cavares -on the west and the Memini and Vulgientes on the south. Vasio (Vocontia), now Vaison, -was their capital.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e414src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e425"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e425src">2</a></span> Caius Plinius Secundus (23–79), known as Pliny the Elder, or the Naturalist, to distinguish -him from his nephew Caius Plinius Cæcilius Secundus (61–<i>c.</i> 115), commonly called Pliny the Younger, the historian. He was the author of the -famous <i lang="la">Naturalis Historia</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e425src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e434"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e434src">3</a></span> The Garden Warbler, or Bush-pipet, a bird which is considered a great delicacy, especially -in the autumn, when it feeds on figs, grapes and so on. Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e434src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e448"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e448src">4</a></span> From Massalia, the ancient name of Marseilles, of which Phocæa, in Asia Minor, was -the mother city.—<i>Translators Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e448src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e478"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e478src">5</a></span> ‘The god made these hours of leisure for us.’—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e478src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e494"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e494src">6</a></span> Colony of Nîmes. Nemansus was the Latin name of Nîmes.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e494src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e540"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e540src">7</a></span> A form of Mussel.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e540src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e544"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e544src">8</a></span> Another genus of bivalve molluscs.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e544src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e548"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e548src">9</a></span> Piddocks.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e548src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e556"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e556src">10</a></span> Or Cone-shells.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e556src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e560"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e560src">11</a></span> Bivalved Ostracods.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e560src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e564"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e564src">12</a></span> A genus of molluscs including the Surf Clams and related species.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e564src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e568"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e568src">13</a></span> Gastropods with a rough, spinose shell.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e568src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e573"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e573src">14</a></span> Gastropods with an elongated, turreted shell.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e573src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e577"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e577src">15</a></span> Or Mitre-shells. Gastropods with a fusiform shell suggesting a bishop’s mitre.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e577src" title="Return to note 15 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e613"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e613src">16</a></span> Or Ground-beetle. Cf. <i>The Glow-worm and Other Beetles</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xiii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e613src" title="Return to note 16 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e619"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e619src">17</a></span> Cf. <i>The Sacred Beetle and Others</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: <i>passim.</i>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e619src" title="Return to note 17 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e627"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e627src">18</a></span> Cf. <i>The Glow-worm and Other Beetles</i>: chap. viii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e627src" title="Return to note 18 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e635"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e635src">19</a></span> The Great Water-beetle. Cf. <i>The Glow-worm and Other Beetles</i>: chap. x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e635src" title="Return to note 19 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e641"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e641src">20</a></span> The Whirligig Beetle. Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. vii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e641src" title="Return to note 20 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e647"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e647src">21</a></span> A carnivorous Water-beetle. Cf. <i>idem</i>: chaps. vii. and viii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e647src" title="Return to note 21 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e278">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter ii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE SPOTTED LARINUS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Larinus is a vague term, which cannot teach us anything. The word sounds well. It -is something not to afflict the ear with raucous spittings; but the prentice reader -wants more than this. He expects the name to give him, in euphonious syllables, a -brief description of the insect named. This would help to guide him in the midst of -the vast multitude. -</p> -<p>I cordially agree with him, while recognizing what an arduous task it would be to -devise a rational nomenclature that would give the beasts the forenames and surnames -which they deserve. Our ignorance condemns us to be vague and often nonsensical. Let -us consider a case in point. -</p> -<p>What does Larinus mean? The Greek lexicon tells us: <span class="trans" title="Larinos"><span lang="grc" class="grek">Λαρινός</span></span>, fatty, fat. Has the insect which is the subject of this chapter any right to such -a description? Not at all. It is corpulent, I agree, as are the Weevils generally, -but does not more than another deserve a certificate of obesity. -</p> -<p>Let us look a little deeper. <span class="trans" title="Laros"><span lang="grc" class="grek">Λαρός</span></span> means pleasant to the taste, pleasant to the eye, dainty, sweet. Are we there now? -Not yet. To be sure, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>Larinus is not without daintiness, but how many among the long-nosed Beetles excel -him in beauty of costume! Our osier-beds provide nourishment for some that are flecked -with flowers of sulphur, some that are laced with Chinese white, some that are powdered -with malachite-green. They leave on our fingers a scaly dust that looks as though -it were gathered from a Butterfly’s wing. Our vines and poplar-trees have some that -surpass copper pyrites in metallic lustre; the equatorial countries furnish specimens -of unparalleled magnificence, true gems beside which the marvels of our jewel-cases -would pale. No, the modest Larinus has no right to be extolled as superb. The title -of dandy must be awarded to others, in the beak-bearing family, rather than to him. -</p> -<p>If his godfather, better-informed, had named him after his habits, he would have called -him an artichoke-thief. The group of the Larini, in fact, establishes its offspring -in the fleshy base of the flowers of the Carduaceæ, the thistle, the cotton-thistle, -the centaury, the carline thistle and others, which, in structure and flavour, recall -more or less remotely the artichoke of our tables. This is its special province. The -Larinus is charged with the thinning out of the fierce, encroaching thistle. -</p> -<p>Glance at the pink, white or blue heads of a Carduacea. Long-beaked insects swarm, -awkwardly diving into the mass of florets. What are <span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>they? Larini. Open the head, split its fleshy base. Surprised by the air and by the -light, plump, white, legless grubs sway to and fro, each isolated in a small recess. -What are these grubs? Larinus-larvæ. -</p> -<p>Here accuracy calls for a reservation. A few other Weevils, related to those whose -history we are considering, are also partial, on behalf of their family, to the fleshy -receptacles with the artichoke flavour. No matter: the species that take the lead -in numbers, frequency and handsome proportions are the authorized exterminators of -the thistle-heads. Now the reader knows as much as I can tell him. -</p> -<p>All the summer, all the autumn, until the cold weather sets in, the most ornamental -of our southern thistles grows profusely by the roadside. Its pretty, blue flowers, -gathered into round, prickly heads, have won it the botanical name of <i lang="la">Echinops</i>, in allusion to the Hedgehog rolled into a ball. It is indeed like a Hedgehog. Better -still: it is like a Sea-urchin stuck upon a stalk and turned into an azure globe. -</p> -<p>Beneath a screen of star-shaped flowerets the shapely tuft hides the thousand daggers -of its scales. Whosoever touches it with an incautious finger is surprised to encounter -such aggressiveness beneath an innocent appearance. The leaves that go with it, green -above, white and fluffy underneath, do at least warn the inexperienced: they are <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>divided into pointed lobes, each of which bears an extremely sharp needle at its tip. -</p> -<p>This thistle is the patrimony of the Spotted Larinus (<i lang="la">L. maculosus</i>, <span class="sc">Sch.</span>), whose back is powdered with cloudy yellow patches. The Weevil browses very sparingly -on the leaves. June is not yet over before she is exploiting the heads, green at this -time and the size of peas, or at most of cherries, with a view to establishing her -family. For two or three weeks the work of colonization continues on globes which -grow bluer and larger day by day. -</p> -<p>Couples are formed, very peaceably, in the glad morning sunlight. The nuptial preliminaries, -resembling the embraces of jointed levers, display a rustic awkwardness. With his -fore-legs the male Weevil masters his spouse; with his hinder tarsi, gently and at -intervals, he strokes her sides. Alternating with these soft caresses are sudden jolts -and impetuous jerks. Meanwhile, the object of these attentions, in order to lose no -time, works at the thistle-head with her beak and prepares the lodging for her egg. -Even in the midst of her wedding the care of the family leaves this laborious insect -no repose. -</p> -<p>What precisely is the use of the Weevil’s rostrum, this paradoxical nose, such as -no carnival mummer would venture to wear? We shall find out at leisure, taking our -own time. -</p> -<p>My prisoners, enclosed in a wire-gauze cover, <span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>are working in the sunlight on my window-sill. A couple has just broken apart. Careless -of what will happen next, the male retires to browse for a while, not on the blue -thistle-heads, which are choice morsels reserved for the young, but on the leaves, -where a superficial scraping enables the beak to remove some frugal mouthfuls. The -mother remains where she is and continues the boring already commenced. -</p> -<p>The rostrum is driven right into the ball of florets and disappears from sight. The -insect hardly moves, taking at most a few slow strides now in one direction, now in -another. What we see is not the work of a gimlet, which twists, but of an awl, which -sinks steadily downwards. The mandibles, the sharp shears affixed to the implement, -bite and dig; and that is all. In the end, the rostrum used as a lever, that is to -say, bending upon its base, uproots and lifts the detached florets and pushes them -a little way outwards. This must cause the slight unevenness which we perceive at -any inhabited point. The work of excavation lasts a good quarter of an hour. -</p> -<p>Then the mother turns about, finds the opening of the shaft with the tip of her belly -and lays the egg. But how? The pregnant insect’s abdomen is far too large and too -blunt to enter the narrow passage and deposit the egg directly at the bottom. A special -tool, a probe carrying the egg to the point required, is therefore absolutely needed -here. <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>But the insect does not possess one that shows; and things take place so swiftly and -discreetly that I see nothing of that kind unsheathed. -</p> -<p>No matter, I am positively convinced of it: to place the egg at the bottom of the -shaft which the rostrum has just bored, the mother must possess a guide-rod, a rigid -tube, kept in reserve, invisible, among her tools. We shall return to this curious -subject when more conclusive instances arise. -</p> -<p>One first point is gained: the Weevil’s rostrum, that nose which at first sight was -deemed grotesque, is in reality an instrument of maternal love. The extravagant becomes -the everyday, the indispensable. Since it carries mandibles and other mouth parts -at its tip, its function is to eat, that is self-evident; but to this function is -added another of greater importance. The fantastic stylet prepares the way for the -eggs; it is the oviduct’s collaborator. -</p> -<p>And this implement, the emblem of the guild, is so honourable that the father does -not hesitate to sport it, though himself incapable of digging the family cells. Like -his consort, he too carries an awl, but a smaller one, as befits the modesty of his -rôle. -</p> -<p>A second point becomes clear. In order to insert the egg at convenient points, it -is the rule for the insect to possess an implement with two functions, an implement -which at the same time opens the passage and guides the eggs along it. <span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span>This is the case with the Cicada,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e745src" href="#xd31e745">1</a> the Grasshopper,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e751src" href="#xd31e751">2</a> the Saw-fly, the Leucospis<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e759src" href="#xd31e759">3</a> and the Ichneumon-fly,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e765src" href="#xd31e765">4</a> all of whom carry a sabre, a saw or a probe at the tip of the abdomen. -</p> -<p>The Weevil divides the work and apportions it between two implements, one of which, -in front, is the perforating auger, and the other, behind, hidden in the body and -unsheathed at the moment of the laying, is the guiding tube. Except in the Weevils, -this curious mechanism is unknown to me. -</p> -<p>When the egg is placed in position—and this is quickly done, thanks to the preliminary -work of the drill—the mother returns to the point colonized. She packs the disturbed -materials a little, she lightly pushes back the uprooted florets; then, without taking -further trouble, she goes away. She sometimes even dispenses with these precautions. -</p> -<p>A few hours later, I examine the heads exploited, which may be recognized by a certain -number of faded and slightly projecting patches, each of which shelters an egg. With -the point of my penknife I extract the little, faded bundle and open it. At the base, -in a small round cell, hollowed <span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>out of the substance of the central globule, the receptacle of the thistle-head, is -the egg, fairly large, yellow and oval. -</p> -<p>It is enveloped in a brown substance derived from the tissues injured by the mother’s -auger and from the exudations of the wound, which have set like cement. This envelope -rises into an irregular cone and ends in the withered florets. In the centre of the -tuft we generally see an opening, which might well be a ventilating-shaft. -</p> -<p>The number of eggs entrusted to a single head may easily be ascertained without destroying -the cells: all that we need do is to count the yellow blurs unevenly distributed over -the blue background. I have found five, six and more, even in a head smaller than -a cherry. Each covers an egg. Do all these eggs come from the same mother? It is possible. -At the same time, they may be of diverse origin, for it is not unusual to surprise -two mothers both occupied in laying eggs on the same globe. -</p> -<p>Sometimes the points worked upon almost touch. The mother, it seems, has a very restricted -numerical sense and is incapable of keeping count of the occupants. She drives her -probe into the florets, unheeding that the place beside her is already taken. As a -rule there are too many, far too many feasters at the niggardly banquet of the blue -thistle. Three at most will find enough to live on. The first-comers will thrive; -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span>laggards will perish for lack of room at the common table. -</p> -<p>The grubs are hatched in a week: little white atoms with red heads to them. Suppose -them to be three in number, as frequently happens. What have the little creatures -in their larder? Next to nothing. The echinops is an exception among the Carduaceæ. -Its flowers do not rest upon a fleshy receptacle expanded into a heart, like the artichoke’s. -Let us open one of the heads. In the centre, as a common support, is a round firm -nucleus, a globe hardly as large as a peppercorn, fixed on the top of a little column -which is a continuation of the axis of the stem. That is all. -</p> -<p>A scanty, a very scanty provision for three consumers. In bulk there is not enough -to furnish the first few meals of a single grub; still less is there enough—for it -is very tough and unsubstantial—to provide for those fine layers of fat which make -the grub look as sleek as butter and are employed as reserves during the transformation. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless, it is in this paltry globule and the small column which supports it -that the three boarders find, their whole life long, the wherewithal to feed and grow. -Not a bite is given elsewhere; and even so the attack is delivered with extreme discretion. -The food is rasped and nibbled on the surface and not completely consumed. -</p> -<p>To make much out of nothing, to fill three starveling bellies, sometimes four, with -a single <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>crumb, would be out of the question. The secret of the food-supply is not contained -in the small amount of solid matter that has disappeared. Let us look into this more -closely. -</p> -<p>I take out a few larvæ which are already fairly well-grown and install dwellings and -dwellers in glass tubes. For a long time, with my pocket-lens, I watch the prisoners. -I cannot see that they bite into the central knob, which is already damaged, nor the -axis, which also has been cut into. From these surfaces, which have been scored since -I know not how long; from what appeared to be their daily bread, their mandibles remove -not the smallest particle. At most the mouth is applied for a moment to the surface; -then it is withdrawn, uneasy and disdainful. It is evident that the ligneous fare, -though still quite fresh, does not suit. -</p> -<p>The proof is completed by the final result of my experiments. In vain I keep the thistle-heads -fresh in glass tubes, plugged with a stopper of wet cotton-wool: my attempts at rearing -are not once crowned with success. As soon as the head is removed from the plant, -its inhabitants begin to die of starvation, whether I intervene or whether I do not. -They all pine away in the heart of their native globe and at last perish, no matter -in what receptacle—test-tube, flask or tin box—I place my collection. Later, on the -other hand, when the feeding-period is over, I shall find it very easy <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>to keep the grubs in good condition and to follow at will their preparations for the -nymphosis. -</p> -<p>This failure tells me that the larva of the Spotted Larinus does not sustain itself -with solid food; it prefers the clear broth of the sap. It taps the cask of its azure -cellar, that is to say, it makes a careful gash in the axis of the head as well as -in the central nucleus. -</p> -<p>From these surface wounds, which are kept open by fresh strokes of the plane as soon -as a dry scab forms upon them, it laps the sap of the thistle, which oozes up from -the roots. As long as the blue globe is on its stalk, very much alive, the sap ascends, -the broached casks exude their contents and the grub sips the nourishing draught. -But, once detached from the stem, cut off from its source of supply, the cellar runs -dry. Thereupon the larva promptly dies. This explains the fatal catastrophe of my -attempts to rear it. -</p> -<p>All that the Larinus-larvæ need is to lick the exudations from a wound. The method -employed is henceforth obvious. The new-born grubs, hatched upon the central globe, -take their places around its axis, proportioning the distance between them to the -number of guests. Each of them peels and slashes with its mandibles the part in front -of it, causing the nutritious moisture to exude. If the spring dries up through healing, -fresh bites revive it. -</p> -<p>But the attack is made with circumspection, <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>The central column and its circular capital form the mainstay of the globe. If too -extensively injured, the scaffolding would bend before the wind and bring down the -dwelling. Moreover, the conduits of the aqueduct must be respected, if a suitable -supply of sap is to be provided until the end. Accordingly, whether three or four -in number, the grubs abstain from rasping the surface too deeply. -</p> -<p>The cuts, which amount to no more than a judicious paring of the surface, imperil -neither the solidity of the structure nor the action of the vessels, so that the blossoms, -their plunderers notwithstanding, retain a very healthy appearance. They expand as -usual, except that the pretty, blue ground is stained with yellow patches, which grow -wider from day to day. At each of these points, a grub is established under the cover -of the dead florets. Each blemish marks one diner’s seat at table. -</p> -<p>The florets, as we said, have for their common support, for their receptacle, the -round knob surmounting the axis. It is on this globule that the grubs begin. They -attack a few of the florets at their base, uprooting them without injuring them and -thrusting them upwards with a heave of the back. The spot thus cleared is slightly -broken into and hollowed out and becomes the first refreshment-bar. -</p> -<p>What becomes of the items removed? Are <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>they thrown to the ground as inconvenient rubbish? The tiny creature is careful not -to do anything of the kind, which would mean exposing its plump back, a small but -enticing morsel, to the eyes of the foe. -</p> -<p>Pushed back, the materials cleared away remain intact, still clustered together in -their natural position. Not a flake, not a chip falls to earth. By means of a quick-setting, -rain-proof glue, the whole of the fragments detached are cemented to the base in a -continuous sheaf, so that the blossom is kept intact, save for the yellowish tint -of the parts wounded. As the grub increases in size, more florets are cut away and -take their place, beside the others, in the roof, which swells by degrees and ends -by bulging out. -</p> -<p>Thus a quiet dwelling is obtained, sheltered from wind and weather and the heat of -the sun. Within, the hermit sips at his cask in safety; he waxes big and fat. I suspected -it, that the larva would be able to make up by its own industry for the rough-and-ready -installation of the egg! Where maternal care is lacking, the grub possesses special -talents as a safeguard. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless, nothing in the grub of the Spotted Larinus reveals the skilful builder -of thatched huts. It is a little sausage of a creature, a rusty yellow in colour and -bent into a hook. There is not a vestige of legs; the whole equipment consists of -the mouth and the opposite end, an active <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>auxiliary. What can this little roll of rancid butter be capable of doing? To observe -it at work is easy enough at the propitious moment. -</p> -<p>In the middle of August, when the larva, having achieved its full growth, is busy -strengthening and plastering its abode in view of the approaching nymphosis, I half-open -a few cells. The hulls opened, but still adhering to the natal blossom, are arranged -in a row in a glass tube which will enable me to watch the work without disturbing -the worker. I have not long to wait for the result. -</p> -<p>In a state of repose, the grub is a hook with the extremities very near together. -From time to time I see it bring the two ends into intimate contact and close the -circuit. Then—do not let us be shocked by the grub’s procedure: this would mean misconceiving -life’s sacred simplicities—then with its mandibles it very neatly gathers from the -stercoral orifice a tiny drop the size of an ordinary pin’s head. It is a muddy white -liquid, flowing like gum, similar in appearance to the resinous beads that ooze from -the horned galls of the turpentine-tree when you break them. -</p> -<p>The grub spreads its little drop over the edges of the breach made in its dwelling; -it distributes it here and there, very sparingly; it pushes and coaxes it into the -gaps. Then, attacking the adjacent florets, it picks out the shreds and chips and -bits of hairs. -</p> -<p>This does not satisfy it. It rasps the axis and <span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>the central nucleus of the blossom, detaching tiny scraps and atoms. A laborious task, -for the mandibles are short and cut badly. They tear rather than slice. -</p> -<p>All this is distributed over the still fresh cement. This done, the grub bestirs itself -most strenuously, bending into a hook and straightening out again; it rolls and glides -about its cabin to make the materials amalgamate and to smooth the wall with the pad -of its round rump. -</p> -<p>When this pressing and polishing is finished, the larva once more curves into a circle. -A second white drop appears at the factory-door. The mandibles take hold of the ignominious -product as they would of an ordinary mouthful; and the process is repeated as before: -the cell is first smeared with glue and then encrusted with ligneous particles. -</p> -<p>After thus expending a certain number of trowelfuls of cement, the grub remains motionless; -it seems to be abandoning a job too much for its means. Twenty-four hours later, the -open hulls are still gaping. An attempt has been made to repair the cell, but not -to close it thoroughly. The task is too heavy. -</p> -<p>What is lacking? Not the ligneous materials, which can always be obtained from the -grub’s surroundings, but the adhesive cement, the factory having closed down. And -why has it closed down? The answer is quite simple: because the vessels <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>of the thistle-head detached from its stalk are dry and can no longer furnish the -food upon which everything depends. -</p> -<p>The curly-bearded Chaldean used to build with bricks of mud baked in the kiln and -cemented with bitumen. The Weevil of the blue thistle possessed the secret of asphalt -long before man did. Better still: to put its method into practice with a rapidity -and economy unknown to the Babylonian contractors, it had and still has its own well -of bitumen. -</p> -<p>What can this viscous substance be? As I have explained, it appears in opal drops -at the waste-pipe of the intestine. Becoming hard and resinous on contact with the -air, it turns a tawny red, so much so that the inside of the cell looks at first as -though coated with quince-jelly. The final hue is a dull brown, against which pale -specks of mixed ligneous refuse stand out sharply. -</p> -<p>The first idea that occurs to one’s mind is that the Weevil’s glue must be some special -secretion, not unlike silk, but emerging from the opposite pole. Can there be actually -glands secreting a viscous fluid in the grub’s hinder part? I open a larva which is -busily building. Things are not as I imagined: there is no glandular apparatus attached -to the lower end of the digestive canal. -</p> -<p>Nor is there anything to be seen in the ventricle. Only the Malpighian tubes, which -are rather large <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>and four in number, reveal, by their opaline tint, the fact that they are fairly full; -while the lower portion of the intestine is dilated with a pulpy substance which conspicuously -attracts the eye. -</p> -<p>It is a semi-fluid, viscous, treacly material of a muddy white. I perceive that it -contains an abundance of opaque corpuscles, like finely powdered chalk, which effervesce -when dissolved in nitric acid and are therefore uric products. -</p> -<p>This very soft pulp is, beyond a doubt, the cement which the grub ejects and collects -drop by drop; and the rectum is obviously the bitumen-warehouse. The parity of aspect, -colour, and treacly consistency are to me decisive: the grub consolidates and cements -and creates a work of art with the refuse from its sewer. -</p> -<p>Is this really an excremental residue? Doubts may be permitted. The four Malpighian -tubes which have poured the powdered urates into the intestine might well supply it -with other materials. They do not in general seem to perform very exclusive duties. -Why should they not be entrusted with various functions in a poorly-equipped organism? -They fill with a chalky broth to enable the Capricorn’s larva to block the doorway -of its cell with a marble slab. It would not be at all surprising if they were also -gorged with the viscous fluid that becomes the asphalt of the Larinus. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span></p> -<p>In this embarrassing instance the following explanation may possibly suffice. The -Larinus’ larva observes, as we know, a very light diet, consisting of sap instead -of solid food. Therefore there is no coarse residue. I have never seen any dirt in -the cell; its cleanliness is perfect. -</p> -<p>This does not mean that all the nourishment is absorbed. There is certainly refuse -of no nutritive value, but it is thin and almost fluid. Can this be the pitch that -cements and stops up the chinks? Why not? If so, the grub would be building with its -excrement; with its ordure it would be making a pretty home. -</p> -<p>Here we must silence our repugnance. Where would you have the recluse obtain the material -for its casket? Its cell is its world. It knows nothing beyond that cell; nothing -comes to its assistance. It must perish if it cannot find its store of cement within -itself. Various caterpillars, not rich enough to afford the luxury of a perfect cocoon, -have the knack of felting their hairs with a little silk. The Larinus grub, that poverty-stricken -creature, having no spinning-mill, must have recourse to its intestine, its only stand-by. -</p> -<p>This stercoral method proves once more that necessity is the mother of invention. -To build a luxurious palace with one’s ordure is a most meritorious device. Only an -insect would be capable of it. For that matter, the Larinus has no monopoly of this -architectural style, which is <span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span>not described in Vitruvius,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e854src" href="#xd31e854">5</a> Many other larvæ, better-furnished with building-materials—those of the Onites, the -Onthophagi,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e866src" href="#xd31e866">6</a> the Cetoniæ,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e872src" href="#xd31e872">7</a> for example—greatly excel it in the beauty of their excremental edifices. -</p> -<p>When completed, on the approach of the nymphosis, the abode of the Larinus is an oval -cell measuring fifteen millimetres in length by ten in width.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e880src" href="#xd31e880">8</a> Its compact structure almost enables it to resist the pressure of the fingers. Its -main diameter runs parallel with the axis of the thistle-head. When, as is not unusual, -three cells are grouped on the same support, the whole is not unlike the fruit of -the castor-oil-plant, with its three shaggy husks. -</p> -<p>The outer wall of the cell is a rustic bristle of chips and hairy débris and above -all of whole florets, faded and yellow, torn from their base and pushed out of place -while retaining their natural arrangement. In the thickness of the wall the cement -predominates. The inner wall is polished, washed with a red-brown lacquer and sprinkled -with an incrustation of ligneous fragments. <span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>Lastly, the pitch is of excellent quality. It makes a solid wall of the work; and, -moreover, it is impervious to moisture: when immersed in water, the cell does not -permit any to pass through to the interior. -</p> -<p>In short, the Larinus’ cell is a comfortable dwelling, endowed, in the beginning, -with the pliancy of soft leather, which allows free scope for the growing-process; -then, thanks to the cement, it hardens into a shell permitting the peaceful somnolence -of the transformation. The flexible tent of the early days becomes a stout manor-house. -</p> -<p>Here, I told myself, the adult would pass the winter, protected against the damp, -which is more to be dreaded than the cold. I was wrong. By the end of September most -of the cells are empty, though their support, the blue thistle, eager to open its -last blooms, is still in fairly good condition. The Weevils have gone, in all the -freshness of their flowered costume; they have broken out through the top of their -cells, which now gape like broken pitchers. A few loiterers still lag behind at home, -but are quite ready to make off, judging by their agility when my curiosity chances -to set them free. -</p> -<p>When the inclement months of December and January have arrived, I no longer find a -single cell inhabited. The whole population has migrated. Where has it taken refuge? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span></p> -<p>I am not quite sure. Perhaps in the heaps of broken stones, under cover of the dead -leaves, in the shelter of the tufts of grass that grow beneath the hawthorn in the -hedges. For a Weevil the country-side is full of winter-resorts. We need not be anxious -about the emigrants; they are well able to look after themselves. -</p> -<p>None the less, in the face of this exodus, my first impression is one of surprise. -To leave such an excellent lodging for a casual shelter, of doubtful safety, seems -to me a rash and ill-advised expedient. Can the insect be lacking in prudence? No; -it has serious motives for decamping as quickly as possible when the autumn draws -to an end. Let me explain matters. -</p> -<p>In the winter the echinops is a brown ruin which the north-wind tears from its hold, -flings on the ground and reduces to tatters by rolling it in the mud of the roads. -A few days of bad weather turn the handsome blue thistle into a mass of lamentable -decay. -</p> -<p>What would become of the Weevil on this support, now the plaything of the winds? Would -her tarred cask resist the assaults of the storm? Would she survive rolling over the -rough soil and prolonged steeping in the puddles of melted snow? -</p> -<p>The Weevils foreknow the dangers of a crazy support; warned by the almanac of instinct, -they foresee the winter and its miseries. So they <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>move house while there is yet time; they leave their cells for a stable shelter where -they will no longer have to fear the vicissitudes of a dwelling blown along the ground -at random. -</p> -<p>The desertion of the casket is not a sign of rash haste on the part of the Larinus: -it shows a clear perception of coming events. In fact, a second Larinus will teach -us presently that, when the support is safe and solidly rooted in the ground, the -natal cell is not deserted until the return of the fine weather. -</p> -<p>In conclusion, I ought perhaps to mention an apparently insignificant, but very exceptional -fact, which I have only once observed in my dealings with the Spotted Larinus. Considering -the scarcity of authentic data as to what becomes of instinct when the conditions -of life are altered, we should do wrong to neglect these trifling discoveries. -</p> -<p>Making ample allowance for anatomy, a precious aid, what do we know of animals? Next -to nothing. Instead of inflating cabbalistic bladders with this nothing, let us collect -well-observed facts, however humble. From a sheaf of such facts a clear, calm light -may shine forth one day, a light far preferable to the fireworks of theories which -dazzle us for a moment only to leave us in blacker darkness. -</p> -<p>Here is this little detail. By some accident an egg has fallen from the blue globe, -its regular lodging, into the axilla of a leaf half-way up the <span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>stem. We can even admit, if we choose, that the mother, either by inadvertence or -by intention, laid it at this point herself. What will become of the egg under such -conditions, so far removed from the rules? What I have before my eyes tell us. -</p> -<p>The grub, faithful to custom, has not failed to broach the stem of the thistle, which -allows the nourishing moisture to ooze from the wound. As a defence it has built itself -a pitcher similar in shape and size to that which it would have obtained in the thistle-head. -This novel edifice lacks only one thing: the roof of dead florets bristling on the -customary hut. -</p> -<p>The builder has contrived to do very well without its floral pantiles. It has made -use of the base of the leaf, one lobe of which is involved, as a support, in the wall -of the cell; and from both leaf and stalk it has taken the ligneous particles which -it had to imbed in the cement. In short, except that it is bare instead of surrounded -with a palisade, the fabric adhering to the stalk does not differ from that hidden -beneath the withered florets of the thistle-head. -</p> -<p>People set great store by environment as a modifying agent. Well, here we see this -famous environment at work. An insect is placed as much out of its element as it can -be, but without leaving the food-plant, which would inevitably be the end of it. Instead -of a ball of close-packed flowers it <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>has for its workshop the open axilla of a leaf; instead of hairs—a soft fleece easily -shorn off—it has for its materials the fierce teeth of the thistle. And these profound -changes leave the builder’s talents unperturbed; the house is built according to the -usual plans. -</p> -<p>I agree that I have not allowed for the influence of the centuries. But what would -this influence bring about? It is not very clear. The Weevil born in an unusual place -retains no trace of the accident that has happened. I extract the adult from his exceptional -cell. He does not differ, even in size, a not very important characteristic, from -the Larini born in the regular cell. He has thriven on the axilla of the leaf as he -would have done on the thistle-head. -</p> -<p>Let us admit that the accident is repeated, that it even becomes a normal condition; -let us suppose that the mother decides to abandon her blue balls and to confide her -eggs to the axillæ of the leaves indefinitely. What will this change bring about? -The answer is obvious. -</p> -<p>Since the grub has once developed without hindrance on a site alien to its habits, -it will continue to thrive there from generation to generation; with its intestinal -cement it will continue to shape a protective pitcher of the same pattern as the old, -but, for want of materials, lacking the thatch of withered florets; in short, its -talents will remain what they were in the beginning. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span></p> -<p>This example tells us that the insect, as long as it can accommodate itself to the -novel conditions imposed upon it, works in its accustomed fashion; if it cannot do -so, it dies rather than change its methods. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e745"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e745src">1</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Grasshopper</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chapters i. to v.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e745src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e751"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e751src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>idem</i>: chapter xiv. and <i>passim</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e751src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e759"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e759src">3</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chapter iii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e759src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e765"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e765src">4</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Caterpillar</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chapter xiv., in -which the activities of one of the Ichneumon-flies, <i lang="la">Microgaster glomeratus</i> are described.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e765src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e854"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e854src">5</a></span> Marcus Vitruvius Pollio (<i>fl.</i> 1st century <span class="asc">B.C.</span>), the Roman architect and engineer, author of <i lang="la">De Architectura</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e854src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e866"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e866src">6</a></span> For the Onitis and Onthophagus Dung-beetles, cf. <i>The Sacred Beetle and Others</i>: chapters xi. and xiv. to xviii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e866src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e872"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e872src">7</a></span> Rose-chafers. Cf. <i>More Hunting Wasps</i>: chap. iv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e872src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e880"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e880src">8</a></span> ·585 by ·39 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e880src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e286">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter iii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE BEAR LARINUS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I sally forth in the night, with a lantern, to spy out the land. Around me, a circle -of faint light enables me to recognize the broad masses fairly well, but leaves the -fine details unperceived. At a few paces’ distance, the modest illumination disperses, -dies away. Farther off still, everything is pitch-dark. The lantern shows me—and but -very indistinctly—just one of the innumerable pieces that compose the mosaic of the -ground. -</p> -<p>To see some more of them, I move on. Each time there is the same narrow circle, of -doubtful visibility. By what laws are these points, inspected one by one, correlated -in the general picture? The candle-end cannot tell me; I should need the light of -the sun. -</p> -<p>Science too proceeds by lantern-flashes; it explores nature’s inexhaustible mosaic -piece by piece. Too often the wick lacks oil; the glass panes of the lantern may not -be clean. No matter: his work is not in vain who first recognizes and shows to others -one speck of the vast unknown. -</p> -<p>However far our ray of light may penetrate, the illuminated circle is checked on every -side by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>barrier of the darkness. Hemmed in by the unfathomable depths of the unknown, let -us be satisfied if it be vouchsafed to us to enlarge by a span the narrow domain of -the known. Seekers, all of us, tormented by the desire for knowledge, let us move -our lantern from point to point: with the particles explored we shall perhaps be able -to piece together a fragment of the picture. -</p> -<p>To-day the shifting of the lantern’s rays leads us to the Bear Larinus (<i lang="la">L. ursus</i>, <span class="sc">Fabr.</span>), the exploiter of the carline thistles. We must not let this inappropriate name -of Bear give us an unfavourable notion of the insect. It is due to the whim of a nomenclator -who, having exhausted his vocabulary, baffled by the never-ending stream of things -already named, uses the first word that comes to hand. -</p> -<p>Others, more happily inspired, perceiving a vague resemblance between the sacerdotal -ornament, the stole, and the white bands that run down the Weevil’s back, have proposed -the name of Stoled Larinus (<i lang="la">L. stolatus</i>, <span class="sc">Gmel.</span>). This term would please me; it gives a very good picture of the insect. The Bear, -making nonsense, has prevailed. So be it: <i lang="la">non nobis tantas componere lites</i>. -</p> -<p>The domain of this Weevil is the corymbed carlina (<i lang="la">C. corymbosa</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), a slender thistle, not devoid of elegance, harsh-looking though it be. Its heads, -with their tough, yellow-varnished <span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>spokes, expand into a fleshy mass, a genuine heart, like an artichoke’s, which is -defended by a hedge of savage folioles broadly welded at the base. It is at the centre -of this palatable heart that the larva is established, always singly. -</p> -<p>Each has its exclusive demesne, its inviolable ration. When an egg, a single egg, -has been entrusted to the mass of florets, the mother moves on, to continue elsewhere; -and, should some newcomer by mistake take possession of it, her grub, arriving too -late and finding the place occupied, will die. -</p> -<p>This isolation tells us how the larva feeds. The carlina’s foster-child cannot live -on a clear broth, as does the echinops’; for, if the drops trickling from a wound -were sufficient, there would be victuals for several here. The blue thistle feeds -three or four boarders without any loss of solid material beyond that resulting from -a slight gash. Given such coy-toothed feeders, the heart of the carline thistle would -support quite as many. -</p> -<p>It is always, on the contrary, the portion of one alone. Thus we already guess that -the grub of the Bear Larinus does not confine itself to lapping up discharges of sap -and that it likewise feeds upon its artichoke-heart, the standing dish. -</p> -<p>The adult also feeds upon it. On the cone covered with imbricated folioles it makes -spacious excavations in which the sweet milk of the plant hardens into white beads. -But these broken <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>victuals, these cut cakes off which the Weevil has made her meal, are disdained when -the egg-laying comes into question, in June and July. A choice is then made of untouched -heads, not as yet developed, not yet expanded and still contracted into prickly globules. -The interior will be tenderer than after they are full-blown. -</p> -<p>The method is the same as that of the Spotted Larinus. With her rostral gimlet the -mother bores a hole through the scales, on a level with the base of the florets; then, -with the aid of her guiding probe, she installs her opalescent white egg at the bottom -of the shaft. A week later the grub makes its appearance. -</p> -<p>Some time in August let us open the thistle-heads. Their contents are very diverse. -There are larvæ here of all ages; nymphs covered with reddish ridges, above all on -the last segments, twitching violently and spinning round when disturbed; lastly, -perfect insects, not yet adorned with their stoles and other ornaments of the final -costume. We have before our eyes the means of following the whole development of the -Weevil at the same time. -</p> -<p>The folioles of the blossom, those stout halberds, are welded together at their base -and enclose within their rampart a fleshy mass, with a flat upper surface and cone-shaped -underneath. This is the larder of the Bear Larinus. -</p> -<p>From the bottom of its cell the new-born grub <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>dives forthwith into this fleshy mass. It cuts into it deep. Unreservedly, respecting -only the walls, it digs itself, in a couple of weeks, a recess shaped like a sugar-loaf -and prolonged until it touches the stalk. The canopy of this recess is a dome of florets -and hairs forced upwards and held in place by an adhesive. The artichoke-heart is -completely emptied; nothing is respected save the scaly walls. -</p> -<p>As its isolation led us to expect, the grub of the Bear Larinus therefore eats solid -food. There is, however, nothing to prevent it from adding to this diet the milky -exudations of the sap. -</p> -<p>This fare, in which solid matter predominates, necessarily involves solid excreta, -which are unknown in the inmate of the blue thistle. What does the hermit of the carline -thistle do with them, cooped up in a narrow cell from which nothing can be shot outside? -It employs them as the other does its viscous drops; it upholsters its cell with them. -</p> -<p>I see it curved into a circle with its mouth applied to the opposite orifice, carefully -collecting the granules as these are evacuated by the intestinal factory. It is precious -stuff, this, very precious; and the grub will be careful not to lose a scrap of it, -for it has naught else wherewith to plaster its dwelling. -</p> -<p>The dropping seized is therefore placed in position at once, spread with the tips -of the mandibles <span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>and compressed with the forehead and rump. A few waste chips and flakes, a few bits -of down are torn from the uncemented ceiling overhead; and the plasterer incorporates -them, atom by atom, with the still moist putty. -</p> -<p>This gives, as the inmate increases in size, a coat of rough-cast which, smoothed -with meticulous care, lines the whole of the cell. Together with the natural wall -furnished by the prickly rind of the artichoke, it makes a powerful bastion, far superior, -as a defensive system, to the thatched huts of the Spotted Larinus. -</p> -<p>The plant, moreover, lends itself to protracted residence. It is slightly built but -slow to decay. The winds do not prostrate it in the mire, supported as it is by brushwood -and sturdy grasses, its habitual environment. When the handsome thistle with the blue -spheres has long been mouldering on the edge of the roads, the carlina, with its rot-proof -base, still stands erect, dead and brown but not dilapidated. Another excellent quality -is this: the scales of its heads contract and make a roof which the rain has difficulty -in penetrating. -</p> -<p>In such a shelter there is no occasion to fear the dangers which make the Spotted -Larinus quit her pitchers at the approach of winter: the dwelling is securely founded -and the cell is dry. The Bear Larinus is well aware of these advantages; she is careful -not to imitate the other in wintering under the cover of dead leaves and stone-heaps. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>She does not stir abroad, assured beforehand of the efficiency of her roof. -</p> -<p>On the roughest days of the year, in January, if the weather permits me to go out, -I open the heads of the carline thistles which I come across. I always find the Larinus -there, in all the freshness of her striped costume. She is waiting, benumbed, until -the warmth and animation of May return. Then only will she break the dome of her cabin -and go to take part in the festival of spring. -</p> -<p>In majesty of bearing and magnificence of blossom our kitchen-gardens have nothing -superior to the cardoon and its near relative the artichoke. Their heads grow to double -the size of a man’s fist. Outside are spiral series of imbricated scales which, without -being aggressive, diverge at maturity in the shape of broad, stiff, pointed blades. -Beneath this armament is a fleshy, hemispherical swelling, as big as half an orange. -</p> -<p>From this rises a serried mass of long white hairs, a sort of fur, than which a Polar -Bear’s is no thicker. Closely surrounded by this hair, the seeds are crowned with -feathers which double the thickness of the shaggy <i lang="fr">chevaux de frise</i>. Above this, delighting the eye, blooms the spreading tuft of flowers, coloured a -splendid lapis lazuli, like that of the cornflower, the joy of the harvest. -</p> -<p>This is the chief domain of a third Larinus (<i lang="la">L. scolymi</i>, <span class="sc">Oliv.</span>), a big Weevil, thickset, broad-backed, powdered with yellow ochre. The cardoon, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>which provides our table with the fleshy veins of its leaves, but whose heads are -disdained, is the insect’s customary home; but, should the gardener leave the artichoke -a few late heads, these are accepted by the Larinus as eagerly as the cardoon’s. Under -different names, the two plants are merely horticultural varieties; and the Weevil, -a thorough expert, makes no mistake about it. -</p> -<p>Under the scorching July sun, a cardoon-head exploited by the Larini is a sight worth -seeing. Drunk with heat, busily staggering amid the thicket of blue florets, they -dive with their tails in the air, sinking and even disappearing into the depths of -the shaggy forest. -</p> -<p>What do they do down there? It is not possible to observe them directly; but a local -inspection after the work is finished will tell us. Between the tufts of hairs, not -far from the base, they clear with the rostrum a place to receive their egg. If they -are able to reach a seed, they rid it of its feathers and cut a shallow cup in it, -an egg-cup as it were. The probe is pushed no farther. The fleshy dome, the tasty -heart which one would at first suppose to be the favourite morsel, is never attacked -by the pregnant mothers. -</p> -<p>As might have been expected, so rich an establishment implies a numerous population. -If the head is a good-sized one, it is not unusual to find a score or more of table-companions, -plump, <span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>red-headed grubs, with fat, glossy backs. There is plenty of room for all. -</p> -<p>For the rest, they are of a very stay-at-home habit. Far from straying at random over -the abundant food-supply, in which they might well sample the best and pick their -mouthfuls, they remain encamped within the narrow area of the place where they were -hatched. Moreover, despite their corpulence, they are extremely frugal, to such a -point that, excepting the inhabited patches, the floral head retains its full vigour -and ripens its seeds as usual. -</p> -<p>In this blazing summer weather, three or four days are enough for the hatching. If -the young grub is at some distance from the seeds, it reaches them by slipping along -the hairs, a few of which it gathers on its way. If it is born in contact with a seed, -it remains in its native cup, for the desired point is attained. -</p> -<p>Its food consists, in fact, of the few surrounding seeds, five or six, hardly more; -and even so the greater number are only in part consumed. True, when it has grown -stronger, the larva bites deeper and digs in the fleshy receptacle a little pit that -will serve as the foundation of its future cell. The waste products of nutrition are -pushed backwards, where they set in a hard lump, held in position by the palisade -of the hairs. -</p> -<p>A modest scale of diet, when all is said: half a dozen unripe seeds and a few mouthfuls -taken <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>from the cake consisting of the receptacle. These peaceful creatures must derive singular -benefit from their food to acquire such plumpness so cheaply. An undisturbed and temperate -diet is better than an uneasy feast. -</p> -<p>Two or three weeks devoted to these pleasures of the table and our grub has become -a fat baby. Then the blissful consumer becomes a craftsman. The placid gratification -of the belly is followed by the worries of the future. We have to build ourselves -a castle in which to effect the metamorphosis. -</p> -<p>From all around it the grub collects hairs, which it chops into fragments of different -lengths. It places them in position with the tip of its mandibles, butts them with -its head and presses them by rolling them with its rump. Without further manipulation -this would remain a crazy protection, constantly collapsing and forcing the recluse -to make continual repairs. But the builder is thoroughly acquainted with the eccentric -ways of its fellow-craftsmen on the echinops; it possesses a cement-factory in the -end of its intestine. -</p> -<p>If I rear it in a glass tube with a piece of its native artichoke, I see it from time -to time curving itself into a ring and gathering with its teeth a drop of a whitish, -sticky substance which the hinder part of the grub sparingly provides. The glue is -instantly spread hither and thither, swiftly, for it sets quickly. Thus the hairy -particles are <span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>bound together and what was flimsy felt becomes a solid fabric. -</p> -<p>When completed, the work is a sort of turret, the base of which is contained in the -little pit of the receptacle, from which the grub obtained part of its nourishment. -The dense mane of untouched hairs forms a rampart above and at the sides. It is a -somewhat clumsy edifice without, shored up by the adjacent fur; but it is nicely smoothed -within and coated in every part with the intestinal glue, which becomes a lustrous -reddish material, like a shellac varnish. The castle-keep measures one and a half -centimetres in height.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1033src" href="#xd31e1033">1</a> -</p> -<p>Towards the end of August most of the recluses are in the perfect state. Many have -even burst the vaulted ceiling of their home; rostrum in air, they investigate the -weather, awaiting the hour of departure. The cardoon-head by this time is quite dry -upon its withered stalk. Let us strip it of its scales and, with a pair of scissors, -clip its fur as closely as possible. -</p> -<p>The result thus obtained is truly curious. It is a sort of convex brush, pierced here -and there with deep cavities wide enough to admit an ordinary lead-pencil. The sides -consist of a reddish-brown wall covered with incrustations of hairy débris. Each of -these cavities is the cell of an adult Larinus. At first sight one would take the -thing for the comb of some extraordinary Wasps’-nest. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span></p> -<p>Let us mention a fourth member of the same group. This is the Spangled Larinus (<i lang="la">L. conspersus</i>, <span class="sc">Sch.</span>), smaller in size than the three foregoing species and more simply clad. She is sprinkled -with small yellow-ochre spots on a black ground. -</p> -<p>Her most sumptuous establishment, as far as I know, is a majestic horror to which -the botanists have given the very expressive name of the prickly thistle (<i lang="la">Cirsium ferox</i>, D. C.). The moorlands of Provence have nothing in their flora to equal its proud -and menacing aspect. -</p> -<p>In August this fierce-looking plant raises its voluminous white tufts and with its -lofty stature overtops the blue-green clumps of the lavender, that lover of stony -wastes. Spread in a rosette on the level of the soil, the root-leaves, slashed into -two series of narrow strips, call to mind the backbones of a heap of big fish burnt -up by the sun. -</p> -<p>These strips are split into two divergent halves, of which one points upwards and -the other downwards, as though to threaten the passer-by from every angle. The whole -thing, from top to bottom, is a formidable arsenal, a trophy of prickles, of pointed -nails, of arrow-heads sharper than needles. -</p> -<p>What is the use of this savage panoply? Its discordance with the usual vegetation -accentuates the grace of the plants around it. By striking a harsh and dissonant note, -it contributes to the general harmony. The haughty thistle is really <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>superb, standing like a monument amidst the humility of the lavender and thyme. -</p> -<p>Others might see in this thicket of halberds a means of defence. But what has the -fierce thistle to defend, that it should bristle in this way? Its seed? I doubt, indeed, -whether the Goldfinch, the accredited pilferer of the Carduaceæ, dare set foot on -this horrid arsenal. He would be spitted at once. -</p> -<p>A humble Weevil will do what the bird dares not undertake and will do it better. She -will entrust her eggs to the white tufts; she will destroy the seed of the ferocious -plant, which, were it not subjected to a severe thinning, would become an agricultural -calamity. -</p> -<p>At the beginning of July I cut off a well-flowered thistle-top; I dip the stem in -a bottle full of water and cover my repellent bouquet with a wire-gauze cover, after -stocking it with a dozen Weevils. The pairing takes place. Soon the mothers dive down -among the flowers and seed-plumes. -</p> -<p>A fortnight later, each head is feeding one to four larvæ, already far advanced. Things -go fast with the Larini: all must be finished before the thistle-heads wither. September -is not over by the time that the insect has assumed the adult form; but there are -still laggards at this period, represented by nymphs and even by larvæ. -</p> -<p>Built on the same plane as the Artichoke-weevil’s, the dwelling consists of a sheath -having <span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>for its base a basin hollowed in the surface of the receptacle. In either case the -architecture is the same; so is the method of work. A quilt of hairs, borrowed from -the seed-plumes and the mane-like fringe of the receptacle, is heaped around the grub -and cemented with the lacquer of the intestine. -</p> -<p>Outside this downy bed of wadding is spread a further mattress, a layer of granular -excrement. The artist has not thought fit to employ its digestive refuse to greater -advantage. It has something better at its disposal. Like the other Larini, it is able -to turn the sordid sewer into a valuable glue- and varnish-factory. -</p> -<p>Will this lodging, so softly padded, be its winter home? Not so. In January I inspect -the old thistle-heads; in none of them do I find the Weevil. The autumnal population -has migrated. For this I see a very good reason. -</p> -<p>The thistle, now dead and bare, an ash-grey ruin, is still standing, is still holding -out against the north-wind, thanks to its strength and the firmness of its roots; -but its flower-heads, emptied by age, are wide open, exposing their contents to the -inclemencies of the weather. The fleece of the receptacle is a sponge that swells -up with the rain and tenaciously retains the moisture. The same may be said of the -cardoon and the artichoke. -</p> -<p>In either case we no longer find the fortress of the carlina, encompassed with convergent -folioles; what we see is a spacious, roofless ruin, abandoned <span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>to the damp and the cold. The white tuft of the ferocious thistle and the blue tuft -of the artichoke are delightful villas in summer; in winter they are uninhabitable -residences, sweating mildew. Prudence, the safeguard of the humble, counsels the owners -to forestall the final dilapidation and to move. The advice is accepted. At the approach -of the rains and frosts, both Larini leave the home of their birth and proceed to -take up their winter-quarters elsewhere: precisely where I do not know. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1033"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1033src">1</a></span> ·585 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1033src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e294">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter iv</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE BOTANICAL INSTINCT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Maternity, when it takes thought for the future, is the most fertile prompter of instinct. -To the maternity that prepares board and lodging for the family we owe the wonderful -achievements of the Dung-beetles and of the Wasps and Bees. The moment the mother -confines herself to laying eggs and becomes a mere germ-factory, the industrial talents -disappear as useless. -</p> -<p>That bravely-plumed fine lady, the Pine Cockchafer, digs the sandy soil with the tip -of her abdomen and buries herself in it laboriously right up to her head. Then a bundle -of eggs is laid at the bottom of the excavation; and that is all, once the pit has -been filled by means of a casual sweeping. -</p> -<p>Constantly ridden by her male during the four weeks of July, the mother Capricorn -explores the trunk of the oak at random; she slips her retractable oviscapt, here, -there and everywhere, under the scales of the cracked bark, probing, feeling, choosing -the propitious spots. Each time an egg is laid, almost without protection. This done, -she has no further anxiety. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span></p> -<p>The grub of <i lang="la">Cetonia floricola</i>, breaking its shell, some time in August, in the depths of the leaf-mould, goes to -feed on the flowers and there idly slumbers; then, an adult Rose-chafer, she returns -to the heap of rotten leaves, enters it and sows her eggs in the hottest places, those -where fermentation rages most fiercely. Let us not ask anything further from her: -her talents end with this. -</p> -<p>So it is, in the vast majority of cases, with the other insects, weak or powerful, -lowly or splendid. They all know where the eggs must be established, but they are -profoundly indifferent to what will follow. It is for the grub to muddle through by -its own methods. The Pine Cockchafer’s larva dives farther into the sand, seeking -for tender rootlets softened by incipient decay. The Capricorn’s, continuing to drag -the shell of its egg behind it, nibbles the uneatable for its first mouthful, making -flour of the dead bark and sinking a shaft that leads it to the wood, on which it -feeds for the next three years. The Cetonia’s, born in a heap of decomposed vegetable -matter, has its food ready to its mouth, without seeking. -</p> -<p>With such primitive habits as these, which emancipate the family at birth, without -the least previous training, how far removed are we from the maternal tenderness of -the Copris,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1095src" href="#xd31e1095">1</a> the Necrophorus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1101src" href="#xd31e1101">2</a> <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>the Sphex<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1109src" href="#xd31e1109">3</a> and so many others! Apart from these privileged tribes, there is nothing very striking -to be noted. It is enough to fill with despair the observer in search of facts really -worth recording. -</p> -<p>The children, it is true, often make up to us for their untalented mothers. Their -ingenuity is sometimes amazing, from the time when they are hatched. Witness our Larini. -What can the mother do? Nothing but bury the eggs in the blossoms of the thistles. -But what a singular industry on the part of the grub which builds itself a thatched -hut, upholsters itself a cabin, cards itself a mattress of chopped hairs, makes itself -a defensive pitcher, a donjon-keep, with the shellac prepared by its intestine! -</p> -<p>When the transformation is accomplished, what perspicacity on the part of the inexperienced -insect, when it abandons its cosy home to seek a refuge under the rude shelter of -the stones, foreseeing the winter which will ruin the natal villa! We possess the -almanac of the past, telling us of the almanac of the future. The insect, with no -records of the vicissitudes of the seasons; the insect, born in the dog-days, in the -blazing heat of summer: the insect feels instinctively that this <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>period of solar intoxication will not last; it knows, though it has never seen it -happen, that its house is doomed soon to collapse; and it makes off before the roof -falls in. -</p> -<p>For a Weevil, this is fine, magnificent. We might well envy the creature’s wisdom -in being thus awake to the calamities of the future. -</p> -<p>However devoid of industry she may be, the least-gifted mother none the less submits -an insoluble problem for our consideration. What is it that leads her to lay her eggs -at spots where the larvæ will find food to their liking? -</p> -<p>The Pieris<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1125src" href="#xd31e1125">4</a> goes to the cabbage, in which she has no personal interest. The plant, compressed -into a head, has not yet flowered. Besides, its modest yellow blossoms have no greater -attraction for the Butterfly than an infinity of other flowers distributed broadcast. -The Vanessa<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1131src" href="#xd31e1131">5</a> goes to the nettle, on which her caterpillars will feast, but on which the adult -insect finds nothing to suck. -</p> -<p>When, in the summer gloaming, the Pine Cockchafer has long been whirling in the nuptial -ballet around her favourite tree, she refreshes herself after her fatigue by nibbling -a few pine-needles; then, with impetuous flight, she goes in search of <span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span>some bare, sandy tract where the grass-roots lie decaying. Here, as often as not, -there is no resinous aroma, there are no more pine-trees, the delight of the plumed -beauty; and it is in this place, where nothing appeals to her own needs, that the -mother, half-buried in the ground, will lay her egg. -</p> -<p>That ardent lover of roses and hawthorn-blossom, the Golden Cetonia, leaves the luxury -of the flowers, to burrow in the shame of putrescence. She repairs to the compost-heap, -but is certainly not tempted by any dish to her taste. She cannot sip honey there -nor intoxicate herself with perfumed essences. Another reason draws her to this corruption. -</p> -<p>At first sight it would seem as if these strange instincts might be explained by the -larva’s diet, of which the adult would retain a lively recollection. The caterpillar -of the Pieris fed on cabbage-leaves; the caterpillar of the Vanessa fed on nettle-leaves; -and each of the two Butterflies, endowed with a faithful memory, exploits the plant -which has no attraction for her now, but which was a treat for her in her infancy. -</p> -<p>In the same way, the Cetonia dives into the heap of leaf-mould because she remembers -the feasts of former days, when she was a grub in the midst of the fermenting vegetable -matter; and the Pine Cockchafer seeks the sandy tracts covered with lean tufts of -grass, because she remembers <span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>her youthful revels underground amid the decaying rootlets. -</p> -<p>Such a memory would be almost admissible if the adult’s diet were the same as the -larva’s. We can more or less understand the Dung-beetle, who, herself feeding upon -animal droppings, makes them into canned provisions for her family. The diet of maturity -and that of infancy are linked as though each were a reminiscence of the other. Uniformity -offers a very simple solution of the food-problem. -</p> -<p>But what shall we say of the Cetonia passing from the flowers to the sordid refuse -of the decayed leaves? Above all, what shall we say of the Hunting Wasps? These fill -their own crops with honey and feed their youngsters on prey! -</p> -<p>By what inconceivable inspiration does the Cerceris<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1149src" href="#xd31e1149">6</a> leave the refreshment-bar of the blossoms, dripping with nectar, to go a-hunting -and to slay the Weevil, the game destined for her offspring? How are we to explain -the Sphex, who, having refreshed herself at the sugar-works of the field eringo, suddenly -flies off, eager to stab the Cricket, the food of her grub? -</p> -<p>It is a matter of memory, some will make haste to reply. -</p> -<p>Ah no! Please do not speak of memory here; do not appeal to the belly’s powers of -reminiscence! Man is fairly well endowed with mnemonic aptitudes. Yet which of us -has retained the least <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>recollection of his mother’s milk? If we had never seen a babe at the breast, we could -never suspect that we began life in the same fashion. -</p> -<p>This food of earliest infancy is not remembered; it is certified only by example, -as by that of the Lamb, which, with bended knees and frisking tail, sucks at the udder -and butts it with its head. No, the mouthfuls of mother’s milk have left not a trace -in the mind. -</p> -<p>And you would have it that the insect, after a transformation that has changed it -entirely, both inside and out, remembers its first diet, when we ourselves, who are -not remoulded in the crucible of a metamorphosis, remain in the most absolute darkness -where ours is concerned! My credulity will not go to that length. -</p> -<p>How then does the mother, whose diet is different, distinguish what suits her offspring? -I do not know, I never shall know. It is an inviolable secret. The mother herself -does not know. What does the stomach know of its masterly chemistry? Nothing. What -does the heart know of its wonderful hydraulics? Nothing. The pregnant mother, when -establishing her brood, knows no more. -</p> -<p>And this unconsciousness provides us with an admirable solution of the difficult problem -of victuals. A good example is afforded by the Weevils whom we have just been considering. -They will show us with what botanical tact the choice of the food-plant is made. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span></p> -<p>To entrust the batch of eggs to this or that cluster of florets is not a matter of -indifference. It is indispensable that the florets should fulfil certain conditions -of flavour, stability, hairiness, and other qualities appreciated by the grub. Its -selection, therefore, demands a nice botanical discrimination which will recognize -off-hand the good and the bad, accept the discovery or reject it. Let us devote a -few lines to these Weevils from the point of view of their botanical attainments. -</p> -<p>Scorning variety, the Spotted Larinus is a specialist of immovable convictions. Her -domain is the blue ball of the echinops, an exclusive domain, valueless to the others. -She alone appreciates it, she alone exploits it; and nothing else suits her. -</p> -<p>This particularity, an unchangeable family inheritance, must greatly facilitate her -search. When, on the return of the warm weather, the insect leaves her hiding-place, -which is doubtless not far from the spot where she was born, she easily finds, on -the banks by the road-side, her favourite plant, which is already tipping its branches -with pale-blue globes. The dear heritage is recognized without hesitation. She climbs -into it, rejoices in her nuptial diversions and waits for the azure balls to mature -to the requisite stage. The blue thistle is familiar to her though she sees it for -the first time. It was the only one known in the past; it is the only one known in -the present. There is no confusion possible. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span></p> -<p>The second Larinus, the Bear, begins to vary her flora to some extent. I know that -she has two establishments: the corymbed carlina in the plain and the acanthus-leaved -carlina on the slopes of Mont Ventoux.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1174src" href="#xd31e1174">7</a> -</p> -<p>To those who stop at the general aspect and do not have recourse to delicate floral -analyses, the two plants have nothing in common. The countryman, clever though he -be at distinguishing one plant from another, would never think of calling the two -by the same generic name. As for the civilized townsman, unless he be a botanist, -don’t speak of him: his testimony here would be worse than useless. -</p> -<p>The corymbed carlina has a tall, slender stem; thin, sparse leaves; a bunch of average -flowers, with a receptacle less than half the size of an acorn. The acanthus-leaved -carlina spreads, level with the soil, a large, fierce rosette of broad leaves which -in shape is not unlike the ornament of a Corinthian capital. There is no stem. In -the centre of the leaf-cluster is a flower, one only, but a giant, big as a man’s -fist. -</p> -<p>The people of Mont Ventoux call this magnificent thistle the ‘mountain artichoke.’ -They gather it and use the base of the flower in making omelettes not devoid of merit; -this base is very fleshy, is saturated in milk with a nutty flavour and is delicious -even when raw. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span></p> -<p>Sometimes they use the plant as an hygrometer. Nailed to the lintel of the byre, the -carlina closes its flower when the air is moist and opens it in a superb sun of golden -scales when the air is dry. With beauty added, it is the inverse equivalent of the -celebrated rose of Jericho, an unsightly bundle which expands in wet and shrivels -in dry weather. If the rustic hygrometer were a foreigner, it would be famous; being -an ordinary product of Mont Ventoux, it is slighted. -</p> -<p>The Larinus, for her part, knows it very well, not as a meteorological apparatus, -a very useless thing to her for foretelling the weather, but as provender for her -family. Many a time, on my excursions in July and August, I have seen the Bear Weevil -very busy on the mountain artichoke wide open in the sun. There is no doubt what she -was doing there: she was attending to her eggs. -</p> -<p>I regret that my then preoccupations, which were concerned with botany, did not permit -me to observe the mother’s methods more closely. Does she lay several eggs in this -rich morsel? There is enough to satisfy a numerous brood. Or does she lay only one, -repeating here what she does on the corymbed carlina, a middling ration? There is -nothing to tell us that the insect is not to some extent versed in domestic economy -and does not proportion the number of the guests to the abundance of the provisions. -</p> -<p>If this point is obscure, another and one of <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>greater interest is quite evident: the Bear Larinus is a clear-sighted botanist. She -recognizes as carlina, the family food, two very dissimilar plants, which none of -us, unless he were an expert, would have thought of grouping together; she accepts -as botanical equivalents the gorgeous rosette, eighteen inches across, whose spokes -lie on the ground, and the shabby-looking thistle that stands erect and spare. -</p> -<p>The Spangled Larinus extends her domain still farther. Though she has not the fierce -thistle with the white heads, she recognizes the good qualities of another vegetable -horror, one with pink heads this time. This is the common horse-thistle (<i lang="la">Cirsium lanceolatum</i>, <span class="sc">Scop.</span>). The difference in the colour of the flowers causes her no hesitation. -</p> -<p>Can she be apprised by the majestic stature, by the sturdy prickles? No, for we next -see her established on a humble and much less savage plant, <i lang="la">Carduus nigrescens</i>, <span class="sc">Vill.</span>, which rises hardly more than nine inches from the ground. -</p> -<p>Can it be the size of the heads that regulates her choice? Not so, either, for the -paltry heads of <i lang="la">Carduus tenuiflorus</i>, <span class="sc">Cart.</span>, are accepted as readily as the sizable blooms of the above three thistles. -</p> -<p>But the subtle expert is even cleverer than this. Regardless of mien, foliage, flavour -or colour, she actively exploits <i lang="la">Kentrophyllum lanatum</i>, D. C., <span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>a plant with wretched yellow flowers soiled by the dust of the roads. To recognize -a Carduacea in this dry and unsightly plant you have to be a botanist or a Weevil. -</p> -<p>A fourth Larinus (<i lang="la">L. scolymi</i>, <span class="sc">Oliv.</span>) surpasses the Spangled Larinus. We find her at work on the garden artichoke and -the garden cardoon, both of them giants that lift their great blue heads to a height -of six feet and more. We meet her afterwards on a niggardly centaury (<i lang="la">Centaurea aspera</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), with ragged heads, smaller than the tip of one’s little finger, trailing on the -ground; we see her founding colonies on the various thistles beloved of the Spangled -Larinus, even on <i lang="la">Kentrophyllum lanatum</i>. Her botanical knowledge of plants so dissimilar gives us food for reflection. -</p> -<p>As a Weevil, she recognizes very clearly, without resorting to tests, what is artichoke-heart -and what is not, what suits her offspring and what would harm it; and I, as a naturalist, -versed by assiduous practice in the flora of my district, would not dare, without -prudent inquiries, to bite into this or that fruit or berry were I suddenly transported -to another country. -</p> -<p>She is born with her knowledge; and I have to learn. Every summer, with superb audacity, -she goes from her thistle to various others which, having no similarity of appearance, -ought, one would think, to be rejected as suspicious hostelries. On the contrary, -she accepts them, recognizes <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>them as her own; and her confidence is never betrayed. -</p> -<p>Her guide is instinct, which instructs her unerringly, within a very restricted circle; -mine is intelligence, which gropes, seeks, goes astray, finds its way again and ends -by soaring with an incomparable flight. The Larinus knows the flora of the thistles -without having learnt it; man knows the flora of the world after long study. The domain -of instinct is a speck; that of intelligence is the universe. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1095"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1095src">1</a></span> Cf. <i>The Sacred Beetle and Others</i>: chaps. ix., x. and xvi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1095src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1101"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1101src">2</a></span> Or Burying-beetle. Cf. <i>The Glow-worm and Other Beetles</i>: chaps. xi. and xii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1101src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1109"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1109src">3</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chaps. iv. to x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1109src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1125"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1125src">4</a></span> The Large White, or Cabbage, Butterfly. Cf. <i>The Life of the Caterpillar</i>: chap. xiv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1125src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1131"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1131src">5</a></span> A genus of very decorative Butterflies, including such well-known species as the Red -Admiral, the Painted Lady, the Camberwell Beauty, the Tortoiseshell Butterfly and -the Peacock Butterfly.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1131src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1149"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1149src">6</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chaps. i. to iii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1149src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1174"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1174src">7</a></span> The nearest mountain to the author’s village. Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chap. xi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1174src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e303">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter v</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE ELEPHANT WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Some of our machines have odd-looking parts which seem inexplicable so long as they -are seen in repose. But wait until the whole is set in motion, when the uncouth contrivance, -with its gear-wheels biting and its jointed rods opening and closing, will reveal -an ingenious combination wherein everything is cunningly arranged in view of the effects -to be obtained. It is the same with various Weevils, notably the Balanini,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1257src" href="#xd31e1257">1</a> who, as their name tells us, are charged with the exploitation of acorns, nuts, and -other similar fruits. -</p> -<p>The most remarkable in my part of the country is the Elephant Weevil, or Acorn-weevil -(<i lang="la">Balaninus elephas</i>, <span class="sc">Sch.</span>). What a well-named insect! Its title is a picture in itself. It is a living caricature, -with its prodigious pipe-stem, no thicker than a horse-hair, reddish, almost straight -and so long that the insect is obliged to carry it extended like a lance at rest, -lest it should stumble, hampered by its instrument. What does it do with this enormous -pike, with this ridiculous nose? -</p> -<p>Here I see some shrugging their shoulders. In <span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>fact, if the sole object of life is to make money by hook or by crook, such queries -are sheer madness. Happily there are others to whom nothing in the majestic problem -of things is trivial. They know of what humble dough the bread of thought is kneaded, -a bread no less necessary than that made from wheat; they know that husbandmen and -inquirers alike feed the world with an accumulation of minute fragments. -</p> -<p>Let us take pity on the question and proceed. Without seeing it at work, we already -suspect the Weevil’s paradoxical beak of being a drill similar to those which we employ -to bore through the hardest substances. Two diamond-points, the mandibles, form its -terminal bit. Like the Larini, but under conditions of greater difficulty, the Weevil -must use it to prepare the way for installing the egg. -</p> -<p>But suspicion, however well-founded, is not certainty. I shall not know the secret -unless and until I witness the performance. -</p> -<p>Chance, the servant of those who solicit her patiently, procures me a meeting with -the Acorn-weevil at work in the first fortnight of October. My surprise is great, -for at this late period all industrial activity as a rule is at an end. The entomological -season closes with the first touch of cold. -</p> -<p>It happens to be wild weather to-day; an icy north-wind is roaring, chapping one’s -lips. One <span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>needs a stout faith to go out on a day like this to inspect the thickets. Yet, if -the Weevil with the long churchwarden exploits the acorns, as I imagine that she does, -now or never is the time to look into things. The acorns, still green, have attained -their full dimensions. In two or three weeks they will possess the deep brown of perfect -maturity, soon to be followed by their fall. -</p> -<p>My hare-brained excursion gives me a success. On the ilexes I surprise a Weevil, with -her proboscis half-sunk in an acorn. To observe her with due care is impossible while -the branches are being lashed and shaken by the mistral. I break off the twig and -lay it gently on the ground. The insect takes no notice of its removal and goes on -with its job. I squat down beside it, sheltered from the gale behind a clump of brushwood, -and watch operations. -</p> -<p>Shod with clinging sandals which will enable her later, in my cages, to scale a perpendicular -pane of glass, the Weevil is firmly fixed on the smooth and sloping curve of the acorn. -She is working her drill. Slowly and awkwardly she moves around her implanted rod, -describes a semicircle whose centre is the perforated point and then, retracing her -steps, describes the semicircle in the reverse direction. And this is repeated several -times over. We do the same when, by an alternating movement of the wrist, we make -a hole in a piece of wood with a bradawl. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span></p> -<p>Little by little the rostrum enters. In an hour’s time it has disappeared entirely. -A brief rest follows. Then at last the instrument is withdrawn. What will happen next? -Nothing more, this time. The Weevil abandons her shaft and solemnly retires, hiding -among the dead leaves. I shall learn no more to-day. -</p> -<p>But I have been given a hint. On still days, more favourable to my hunting, I return -to the spot and soon have the wherewithal to stock my cages. Foreseeing serious difficulties -because of the slowness of the work, I prefer to continue my studies indoors, with -the unlimited leisure to be found at home. -</p> -<p>This was an excellent precaution. If I had tried to go on as I had begun and to observe -the Weevil’s actions in the freedom of the woods, never should I have had the patience -to follow to the end the choice of the acorn, the boring of the hole and the laying -of the eggs—even presuming that my discoveries were propitious—so meticulously deliberate -is the insect in its business, as the reader will presently be able to judge. -</p> -<p>The copses frequented by my Weevil are composed of three kinds of oaks: the ilex and -the durmast, which would become fine trees if the woodcutter gave them time, and lastly -the kermes-oak, a wretched, scrubby bush. The first, the most plentiful of the three, -is the Weevil’s favourite. Its acorns are firm, long in shape and moderate in <span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>size; the cup is covered with little warts. Those of the durmast oak are generally -stunted, short, wrinkled and subject to premature falls. The dryness of the Sérignan -hills does not suit them. The Weevil therefore accepts them only in the absence of -something better. -</p> -<p>The humility of the kermes, a dwarf shrub, a truly comic oak, which a man can step -over at a stride, is contrasted by the wealth of its acorns, which are large, swelling -ovoids, set in a cup bristling with sharp scales. The Weevil could not have a better -home. It forms a strong dwelling and a copious storehouse. -</p> -<p>I place a few sprigs from these three oaks, well-furnished with acorns, under the -dome of my wire-gauze covers, with their ends dipped in a tumbler of water to keep -them fresh; I install a suitable number of couples; lastly, I stand the cages on the -window-sills of my study, where they get the direct sunlight for the greater part -of the day. Let us now possess our souls in patience and keep a constant watch. We -shall be rewarded. The exploitation of the acorn is worth seeing. -</p> -<p>Things do not drag on so very long. Two days after these preparations, I arrive at -the exact moment when the work begins. The mother, larger than the male and supplied -with a longer drill, is inspecting her acorn, no doubt in view of the eggs. -</p> -<p>She goes over it step by step, from tip to stem, <span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span>above and below. Walking is easy on the wrinkled cup; it would be impracticable on -the rest of the surface if the soles of her feet were not shod with clinging pattens, -with brushes which enable her to keep her balance in any position. Without tripping -or stumbling, therefore, the insect walks with equal ease, over the top or bottom -or up the sides of her slippery pedestal. -</p> -<p>The choice is made; the acorn is recognized as being of good quality. The time has -come to sink the hole. The rod is difficult to wield, because of its excessive length. -To obtain the best mechanical effect, the instrument must be held at right angles -to the convex surface; and the cumbrous tool which, out of working-hours, projects -in front of the worker must now be brought under her. -</p> -<p>To achieve this object, the Weevil raises herself on her hind-legs and stands on the -tripod formed by the tip of the wing-cases and of the hinder tarsi. Nothing could -be droller than this strange well-sinker, standing erect and drawing her nasal rapier -towards her. -</p> -<p>The trick is done: the drill is now held plumb. The boring begins. The method is that -which I saw employed in the woods, on the day when the wind was so strong. Very slowly, -the insect veers from right to left and from left to right alternately. Her tool is -not a gimlet, a spiral, corkscrew-like implement which enters as the result of a rotary -<span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>movement always in one direction; it is a trocar which progresses by successive bites, -by eating away now in one direction, now in another. -</p> -<p>Before continuing, let me give room to an accidental fact, which is too striking to -be passed over. On various occasions I have found the insect dead at its work. The -deceased occupies a strange position, which would give food for laughter if death -were not always a serious event, especially when it comes suddenly, in the midst of -toil. The boring-tool is implanted in the acorn merely by its tip: the work was just -beginning. At the top of the rod, a lethal stake, the Weevil is suspended in mid-air, -at right angles, far from the supporting surface. She is dried-up, dead since I know -not how many days. The legs are stiff and contracted under the abdomen. Even if they -retained the flexibility and the power of extension which was theirs in life, they -would not be able, by a long way, to reach the support of the acorn. What has happened -then, that the poor wretch should be impaled like an insect in our collections with -a pin stuck through its head? -</p> -<p>What has happened is a workshop-accident. Because of the length of her bradawl, the -Weevil begins by working upright, standing on her hind-legs. Imagine a slip, a false -move of the two clinging grapnels; and the unskilful Weevil will instantly lose her -footing, dragged away by the elasticity of the probe, which she must have <span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>forced slightly and bent at the start. Thus lifted to some distance from her foothold, -she vainly struggles, hanging in the air; nowhere can her tarsi, those safety anchors, -find anything to grip. She succumbs exhausted at the top of her stake, for lack of -a support whereby to release herself. Like the workmen in our factories, the Elephant -Weevil also is sometimes the victim of her machinery. Let us wish her good luck and -sure feet, careful not to slip, and continue. -</p> -<p>This time the mechanism works perfectly, but so slowly that the descent of the drill, -even when magnified by the lens, cannot be perceived. And the insect veers and veers -about, rests and again resumes her work. An hour, two hours pass, of enervating, sustained -attention, for I want to see the action at the exact moment when the Weevil withdraws -her probe, turns round and deposits her egg at the mouth of the well. This at least -is how I foresee events. -</p> -<p>Two hours elapse, exhausting my patience. I make arrangements with my household. Three -of us will relieve one another in turn, keeping an uninterrupted watch on the obstinate -creature, whose secret I must have at all costs. -</p> -<p>I was well-advised to call in helpers to lend me their eyes and their attention. After -eight hours, eight endless hours, the sentry on the watch summons me. The insect appears -to have finished. It does in fact step back, it withdraws its drill, <span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>carefully, lest it should bend it. The tool is now outside, once more pointing forwards, -in a straight line. -</p> -<p>This is the moment.… Alas, no! Once again I am cheated: my eight hours’ watch has -led to nothing. The Weevil decamps, abandons the acorn without making use of her boring. -Yes, I was certainly right to distrust observation in the woods. Such a period of -waiting among the ilexes, under the scorching sun, would have been an unbearable torture. -</p> -<p>All through October, with the aid of helpers when needful, I remark numerous borings -not followed by any laying. The operation varies greatly in length. Generally it lasts -a couple of hours; sometimes it takes half the day or even more. -</p> -<p>What is the object of these shafts, made at such cost of time and labour and very -often left unstocked? Let us first look for the site occupied by the egg and forming -the grub’s earliest mouthfuls; then perhaps the reply will come. -</p> -<p>The inhabited acorns remain on the oak, encased in their cups as though nothing abnormal -were happening to injure the seed-lobes. They are easily recognized with a little -attention. Not far from the cup, on the smooth and still green shells, a little speck -shows, just like the prick of a fine needle. Soon it is surrounded by a narrow brown -ring, the result of mortification. This is <span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>the mouth of the hole. At other times, but less often, the opening is made through -the cup itself. -</p> -<p>We will take the acorns recently perforated, that is to say, those with a pale puncture, -not yet surrounded by the brown ring which will appear in time. Shell them. Several -contain no foreign matter: the Weevil has bored them without laying her eggs in them. -These represent the acorns worked for hours and hours in my cages and not afterwards -used. Many contain an egg. -</p> -<p>Now, however far above the cup the entrance to the pit may be, this egg is always -right at the bottom, at the base of the seed-lobes. There is here, provided by the -cup, a soft, blanket-like layer which imbibes the sapid exudations from the tip of -the peduncle, the source of nourishment. I see a young grub, hatched before my eyes, -nibble as its first mouthfuls this tender woolly mass, this moist cake flavoured with -tannin. -</p> -<p>This dainty, juicy and easy of digestion, like all nascent organic matter, is found -only at this particular spot; and it is solely here, between the cup and the base -of the seed-lobes, that the Weevil lodges her egg. The insect knows to a nicety the -position of the morsels best-suited to the feeble stomach of the new-born larva. -</p> -<p>Above this is the comparatively coarse bread of the seed-lobes. Refreshed by its first -meal at the drinking-bar, the grub enters it, not directly, but through the tunnel -opened by the mother’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>probe, a tunnel littered with crumbs, with half-masticated fragments. This light farinaceous -food, prepared in a column of appropriate height, gives strength; and the grub next -penetrates right into the firm substance of the acorn. -</p> -<p>These facts explain the egg-layer’s tactics. What is her object when, before proceeding -to bore the hole, she inspects her acorn, above, below, in front and behind, with -fastidious care? She is making sure that the fruit is not already occupied. It is -a rich larder, certainly; nevertheless, there is not enough for two. Never indeed -have I found two larvæ in the same acorn. One only, always one only, digests the generous -morsel and converts it into pale-green flour before leaving it and descending to the -ground. Of the seed-lobe bread, at most an insignificant crumb remains. The rule is -that each grub has its loaf, each consumer its ration consisting of one acorn. -</p> -<p>Before trusting the egg to the acorn, therefore, it is important to examine it, to -ascertain if it already has an occupant. Now this occupant, if any, is at the bottom -of a crypt, at the base of the acorn, under the cover of a cup bristling with scales. -Nothing could be more secret than this hiding-place. No eye would suspect the presence -of a recluse if the surface of the acorn did not bear the mark of a tiny puncture. -</p> -<p>This just visible mark is my guide. Its appearance tells me that the fruit is inhabited -or that it <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>has at least been prepared for the reception of the egg; its absence assures me that -the acorn has not been appropriated. The Weevil, beyond a doubt, obtains her information -in the same manner. -</p> -<p>I see things from a height, with a comprehensive glance, assisted if need be by the -magnifying-glass. I turn the object for a moment in my fingers; and my inspection -is over. The Weevil, investigating at close quarters, is obliged to point her microscope -more or less everywhere before detecting the tell-tale speck with certainty. Moreover, -the welfare of her family compels her to make a far more scrupulous search than that -prompted by my curiosity. This is why her examination of the acorn is so excessively -protracted. -</p> -<p>It is done: the acorn is accepted as a good one. The drill is driven in and kept working -for hours; then, very often, the insect goes away, despising her work. The laying -of the egg does not follow on the boring. What is the object of so great and so long -an effort? Can the Weevil simply be piercing the fruit to satisfy her appetite and -obtain refreshment? Can the reed-like beak go down to the depths of the barrel to -draw, from the likeliest spots, a few mouthfuls of sustaining drink? Can the enterprise -be a matter of personal nourishment? -</p> -<p>I thought so at first, though I was a little surprised at this display of perseverance -in view of a sip. The males taught me to abandon the idea. <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>They too possess a long rostrum, capable of opening a well if necessary; nevertheless -I never see one standing on an acorn and working at it with his drill. Why take so -much trouble? A mere nothing satisfies these frugal eaters. A superficial digging -with the tip of the proboscis into the tender leaf yields enough to maintain their -strength. -</p> -<p>If they, the idlers who have leisure to enjoy the delights of the table, want no more, -how will it be with the mothers, busy with the laying? Have they the time to eat and -drink? No, the pierced acorn is not a bar at which to lounge, sipping without end. -That the beak, when driven into the fruit, levies a small mouthful is possible; but -this scrap is certainly not the object in view. -</p> -<p>I seem to catch a glimpse of the real object. The egg, as we said, is always at the -base of the acorn, in the midst of a sort of wadding moistened by the sap that oozes -from the stalk. At the hatching, the grub, incapable as yet of tackling the firm substance -of the seed-lobes, chews the delicate felt at the bottom of the cup and feeds upon -its juices. -</p> -<p>But, as the fruit matures, this cake becomes more solid and changes in flavour and -in the consistency of its pulp. What was soft hardens, what was moist dries up. There -is a period during which the conditions necessary to the new-born grub’s welfare are -fulfilled to perfection. At an earlier stage, <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>things would not have reached the requisite degree of preparation; later, they would -be too ripe. -</p> -<p>Outside, on the green rind of the acorn, there is nothing to show the progress of -this inner cooking. In order not to serve her grub with noxious food, the mother, -inadequately informed by the sight of the acorn, is therefore obliged first to taste -with the tip of her proboscis what lies at the bottom of the store-room. -</p> -<p>The nurse, before giving baby his spoonful of pap, puts her lips to it to try it. -The mother Weevil in the same way, with no less affection, dips her probe to the bottom -of the basin, to try its contents before bequeathing them to her son. If the food -is considered satisfactory, the egg is laid; if not, the boring is abandoned without -more ado. This explains the perforations of which no advantage is taken after much -laborious work. The soft bread at the bottom, carefully tested, was not found to be -in the required condition. How particular, how fastidious are these Weevils, where -the first mouthful of the family is concerned! -</p> -<p>To place the egg in a spot where the new-born grub will find light, juicy, easily-digested -food is not enough for these far-seeing mothers. Their care goes farther. An intermediate -diet would be useful, to lead the little larva from the dainty fare of the first hours -to the regimen of hard bread. This intermediate diet is in the gallery, the work of -the mother’s beak. Here are crumbs, particles <span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>bitten off by the shears of the proboscis. Moreover, the sides of the tunnel, softened -by mortification, are better-suited than the rest to the feeble mandibles of the novice. -</p> -<p>Before nibbling at the seed-lobes, the grub does in fact embark upon this tunnel. -It feeds on the meal found along the road; it gathers the discoloured atoms hanging -from the walls; and lastly, when strong enough, it attacks the loaf of the kernel, -digs into it and disappears inside. The stomach is ready. The rest is a blissful feast. -</p> -<p>This tubular nursery must be of a certain length to satisfy the needs of infancy; -and so the mother works her drill accordingly. If the thrust of the probe were intended -solely for sampling the material at the base of the acorn and examining its degree -of maturity, the operation would be much shorter, since it could be started near that -base, through the cup. This advantage is not unrecognized: I have happened to surprise -the insect working upon the scaly cupule. -</p> -<p>I see in this merely an attempt of the hurried mother to obtain information. If the -acorn suits, the boring will be made over again, higher up, outside the cup. When -the egg is to be laid, the rule, in fact, is to bore through the acorn itself, as -high up as the length of the tool permits. -</p> -<p>What is the object of this long boring, which is not always finished in half a day? -What is the use of this stubborn perseverance when, near the <span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>stalk, at the cost of much less time and labour, the bradawl would reach the desired -point, the running spring whereat the nascent grub is to slake its thirst? The mother -has her reasons for going to all this trouble: by so doing she reaches the regular -spot, the base of the acorn, and by this very action—a most valuable result—prepares -a long tube of meal for her son. -</p> -<p>These are all trivialities! Not so, if you please: matters of great importance rather, -telling us of the infinite cares that preside over the preservation of the least of -things and bearing witness to a higher logic which regulates the smallest details. -</p> -<p>The Weevil, so happily inspired as a breeder, has her place in the world and is worthy -of consideration. So at least thinks the Blackbird, who gladly makes a meal of the -long-beaked insect when the berries begin to run short at the end of autumn. It is -a small mouthful but a tasty one; and it makes a pleasant change after the bitterness -of the olive that still resists the cold. -</p> -<p>And what were the reawakening of the woods in spring, without the Blackbird and his -rivals! Were man to disappear, annihilated by his own follies, the springtide festival -would be no less solemnly celebrated by the Blackbird’s triumphant fluting. -</p> -<p>To the most deserving part played in feasting the bird, the minstrel of the forests, -the Weevil adds another, that of moderating the amount of <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>vegetable lumber. Like all the mighty really worthy of their power, the oak is generous: -it yields acorns by the bushel. What could the earth do with this abundance? The forest -itself would be stifled for lack of space; excess would ruin the essential. -</p> -<p>But, as soon as victuals are plentiful, there comes from every side a rush of consumers -only too eager to reduce the headlong production. The Field-mouse, a native, hoards -acorns in a stone-heap, near her hay mattress. A stranger, the Jay, arrives from a -distance, in flocks, apprised I know not how. For some weeks he flies feasting from -oak to oak, giving vent to his joys and his emotions by screeching like a strangled -Cat; then, having fulfilled his mission, he goes back to the north whence he came. -</p> -<p>The Weevil has been beforehand with them all. She confided her eggs to the acorns -while these were still green. They are now lying on the ground, brown before their -time and pierced with a round hole through which the larva has escaped after consuming -the contents. It would be easy under a single oak to fill a basket with these empty -ruins. The Weevil has done more than the Jay and more than the Field-mouse to get -rid of the superfluity. -</p> -<p>Soon man arrives, thinking of his pigs. In my village it is a great event when the -public crier announces the opening day for gathering acorns in the common woods. The -more zealous inspect <span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>the ground on the eve, in order to select a good place. Next morning, at peep of day, -the whole family is there. The father beats the higher branches with a pole; the mother, -wearing a large canvas apron which allows her to force her way through the thickets, -gathers from the tree all that her hand can reach; the children pick up what lies -on the ground. And the baskets are filled, followed by the hampers and the sacks. -</p> -<p>After the glee of the Field-mouse, the Jay, the Weevil and so many others, here comes -that of man, calculating how much bacon his harvest will bring him. One regret mingles -with the rejoicings, that is to see so many acorns scattered on the ground, pierced, -spoilt, good for nothing. Man inveighs against the author of the damage. To listen -to him, you would think that the forest were his alone and that the oaks bore fruit -only for his Pig. -</p> -<p>‘My friend,’ I would say to him, ‘the forest-ranger can’t summon the delinquent and -this is just as well, for our self-seeking, which is inclined to look upon the acorn-crop -only in the light of a string of sausages, would lead to tiresome results. The oak -invites the whole world to enjoy its fruits. We take the biggest share, because we -are the strongest. That is only our right.… But what ranks ever so much higher is -a fair division among the various consumers, great and small, all of whom play their -part in this world. If it is well <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>that the Blackbird should whistle and gladden the burgeoning of the spring, then let -us not take it ill that the acorns are rotten. For here the Blackbird’s dessert is -prepared, the Weevil, a dainty mouthful that lends fat to his rump and music to his -throat.’ -</p> -<p>Let us leave the Blackbird to sing and hark back to the Weevil’s egg. We know where -it is: at the base of the acorn, in the tenderest and juiciest part of the fruit. -How did it get there, so far from the entrance, which is situated above the edge of -the cup. A very small question, it is true, even puerile, if you will. Let us not -despise it: science is built up of puerilities. -</p> -<p>The first man to rub a piece of amber on his sleeve and thereupon to discover that -the piece aforesaid attracted bits of straw certainly did not suspect the electric -wonders of our day. He was amusing himself in his artless fashion. When repeated and -tested in every conceivable manner, this child’s plaything became one of the forces -of the world. -</p> -<p>The observer must neglect nothing: he never knows what the humblest fact may bring -forth. I therefore repeat the question: by what means was the Weevil’s egg placed -so far from the entrance? -</p> -<p>To any one who was not yet aware of the position of the egg, but who knew that the -grub attacks the base of the acorn first, the reply would appear to <span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span>be as follows: the egg is laid at the entrance of the tunnel, on the surface; and -the grub, crawling along the gallery dug by the mother, of its own accord reaches -the point where its infant’s-food exists. -</p> -<p>At first, before I possessed adequate particulars, this explanation was also my own; -but the mistake was soon dispelled. I pluck the acorn when the mother withdraws after -for an instant applying the tip of her abdomen to the orifice of the tunnel which -her rostrum has just bored. The egg, so it seems, must be there, at the entrance, -close to the surface.… But not at all: it is not there; it is at the other end of -the passage! If I dared to take the liberty, I should say that it has gone down it -as a stone falls to the bottom of a well. -</p> -<p>We must hasten to abandon this silly notion: the tunnel is infinitely narrow and blocked -with shavings, so that any such descent would be impossible. Besides, according to -the direction of the stalk, which may be either downwards or upwards, a fall in one -acorn would mean an ascent in another. -</p> -<p>A second, no less risky explanation suggests itself. You say to yourself: -</p> -<p>‘The Cuckoo lays her egg in the grass, anywhere; she picks it up in her beak and goes -and places it as it is in the Warbler’s narrow nest.’ -</p> -<p>Can the Weevil adopt a similar method? Can <span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>she use her rostrum to push her egg to the base of the acorn? I cannot see that the -insect has any other implement capable of reaching this remote hiding-place. -</p> -<p>And yet we must hastily reject this quaint explanation as a despairing resource. Never -does the Weevil lay her egg in the open and then take it in her beak. If she did, -the delicate germ would infallibly perish, destroyed in the attempt to push it down -a narrow, half-choked passage. -</p> -<p>My perplexity is great; and it will be shared by any of my readers who are acquainted -with the Weevil’s structure. The Grasshopper owns a sabre, a laying-tool which sinks -into the ground and sows the eggs at the requisite depth;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1405src" href="#xd31e1405">2</a> the Leucospis is endowed with a probe which makes its way through the Chalicodoma’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1410src" href="#xd31e1410">3</a> masonry and slips the egg into the cocoon of the fat, sleepy larva; but this Weevil -of ours has none of these rapiers, daggers or larding-pins; she has nothing at the -tip of her abdomen, absolutely nothing. And yet she has but to apply that tip to the -narrow opening of the well for the egg to be lodged, forthwith, at the very bottom. -</p> -<p>Anatomy will supply the key to the riddle, which is otherwise undecipherable. I open -the mother’s abdomen. What meets my eyes astounds <span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span>me. There is here, occupying the whole length of the body, an extraordinary piece -of mechanism, a stiff, red, horny rod, I was almost saying a rostrum, so closely does -it resemble that of the head. It is a tube, slender as a horse-hair, widening slightly -like a blunderbuss at the free end and swollen like an egg-shaped capsule at the base. -</p> -<p>This is the laying-tool, equalling the bradawl in length. As far as the perforating -beak reaches, so far can the egg-probe reach, that inner beak. When working upon her -acorn, the Weevil chooses the point of attack so that the two complementary instruments -can both reach the desired point, the base of the fruit. -</p> -<p>The rest now stands self-explained. When the work of drilling is finished and the -gallery ready, the mother turns round and places the tip of her abdomen over the entrance. -She unsheathes and protrudes her internal mechanism, which readily sinks through the -loose shavings. No sign appears of the directing probe, so quickly and discreetly -does it work; no sign appears either when, after the egg has been placed in position, -the instrument goes up again and gradually slips back into the abdomen. It is over; -the mother departs and we have seen none of her little secrets. -</p> -<p>Was I not right to persist? An apparently insignificant fact has told me definitely -what the Larini had already led me to suspect. The long-beaked <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>Weevils have an inner probe, an abdominal rostrum, which no outward sign betrays; -they possess, hidden away in their belly, the counterpart of the Grasshopper’s sabre -and of the Ichneumon-fly’s larding-pin. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1257"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1257src">1</a></span> From the Latin <i lang="la">balanus</i>, an acorn.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1257src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1405"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1405src">2</a></span> <i>The Life of the Grasshopper</i>: chap. xiv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1405src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1410"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1410src">3</a></span> The Mason-bee. Cf. <i>The Mason-bees</i>: <i>passim</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1410src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e311">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter vi</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE NUT-WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">If a peaceful home, a good stomach and a secure livelihood are enough to bring happiness, -then the Nut-weevil is truly a happy creature, more so even than the famous Rat who -retired into a Dutch cheese. The hermit of the fabulist<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1436src" href="#xd31e1436">1</a> had kept up certain relations with the world, the source of all his troubles. One -day, a deputation from the Rat folk came to ask him for a trifling alms. The recluse -listened to their complaints with an unwilling ear; he told them that he could not -help them, promised to pray for them and shut the door without further ado. -</p> -<p>Hard though he was upon the needs of others, this visit of famished beggars must have -disturbed his digestion somewhat: history does not tell us so, but we are at liberty -to believe it. The hermit of the naturalist is not subject to these annoyances. Its -dwelling is an inviolable cell, a coffer made all in one piece, with neither door -nor wicket for distressed bores to come knocking at. Within is absolute quiet, nothing -enters of the sounds or cares of the outer world. An excellent lodging, <span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>neither too hot nor too cold, peaceful and closed to all. An excellent table, besides, -and a sumptuous. What more could any one ask for? The smug inmate waxes big and fat. -</p> -<p>We all know the rascal. Which of us, when a boy, cracking a hazel-nut with his strong -teeth, has not bitten into something acrid and sticky? Ugh! It’s the nut-maggot! Let -us conquer our repugnance and examine the creature closely. It is worth the trouble. -</p> -<p>We see a plump and lusty grub bent into a bow, legless and milk-white, except the -head, which is capped with <span class="corr" id="xd31e1447" title="Not in source">a </span>yellowish horn. When taken from its cell and laid on the table, the thing wriggles -about, coiling and uncoiling and fidgeting without contriving to shift its place. -It is denied the power of locomotion. What would the worm do with that power, boxed -up as it is? For that matter, this is a feature common to the Weevil tribe, all of -whom are inveterate stay-at-homes in their larval stage. Such is the hermit whose -history follows below, the anchorite with the sleek and rounded rump, the larva of -the Nut-weevil (<i lang="la">Balaninus nucum</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>). -</p> -<p>The kernel of the hazel-nut is its cake, an abundant provision, which it never or -but very seldom finishes entirely, so greatly do the victuals exceed the utmost requirements -of obesity. There is plenty to enable one alone to live comfortably for three or four -weeks; but it would mean short <span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>commons for two. And so the victuals are scrupulously rationed: to each nut its grub, -no more. -</p> -<p>I have happened on very rare occasions to find two. The late-comer, the offspring -of some ill-informed mother, had seated itself at table beside the other, without -much profit to itself. There was not much left of the cake; moreover, the still feeble -intruder seemed to have had a bad reception from the powerful and jealous owner of -the property. There was no doubt about it: the superfluous weakling was doomed to -perish. The Weevil knows no more of mutual aid among kinsmen than the Rat in the cheese. -Each for himself: such is the savage and bestial law, even in a nutshell. -</p> -<p>The dwelling is a perfectly continuous fortification, without a joint or fissure for -an invader to slip through. The walnut-tree forms the shell of its fruit out of two -halves joined together, with a line of least resistance left between them; the hazel -makes its kegs with a single stave, curved into an arch that is equally strong at -all points. How did the grub of the Balaninus obtain access to this fortress? -</p> -<p>On the surface, smooth as polished marble, the eye perceives nothing to explain the -entrance of an exploiter from without. One can picture the surprise and the artless -imaginings of those who first remarked the peculiar contents of the intact nut, without -any sort of opening to it. The plump <span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>maggot, living inside it, could not be an alien. It was therefore born of the fruit -itself, under the influence of an unlucky moon. It was a child of putrefaction hatched -by a mist. -</p> -<p>A faithful custodian of the ancient beliefs, the peasant of to-day always attributes -maggoty nuts and other fruits spoiled by insects to the moon and a passing miasma. -And this will be so indefinitely, until our country schools yield the place of honour -to cheerful, invigorating studies in the fields. -</p> -<p>Let us replace these inanities by the reality. The grub is certainly an outsider, -an invader; and, if it has made its way in, this is because it has found a passage -somewhere. Let us look for this passage, which escaped us at the first examination, -with the aid of a magnifying-glass. -</p> -<p>The search does not take long. The base of the nut displays a wide, rough, light-coloured -depression, to which the cup was fastened. On the confines of this area, a little -way outside it, is a darker speck. Thus is the entrance to the stronghold; this is -the key to the riddle. -</p> -<p>The rest follows without further inquiry and is very clearly interpreted by the data -provided by the Elephant Weevil. The Nut-weevil also bears a buccal drill, still inordinately -long, but this time slightly curved. -</p> -<p>I can well imagine the insect, like its relative of the acorns, standing erect on -the tripod formed <span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>by the tip of its wing-covers and the hinder tarsi; it assumes a posture worthy of -portrayal by a fantastic pencil; it plants its instrument perpendicularly; it patiently -veers and veers again. -</p> -<p>The work is arduous, very arduous, for the nut is selected when nearly ripe, to provide -the grub with more savoury and more abundant food; it is thick and tough, much more -so than the rind of an acorn. If the Acorn-weevil takes half a day to bore her passage, -how long must the Nut-weevil’s task be, how patient her persistence! Perhaps her rod -is specially hardened. We can temper our drills till they wear away granite; no doubt -the Weevil, in the same way, provides her boring-tool with a bit of triple hardness. -</p> -<p>Quickly or slowly, the auger sinks into the base of the nut, where the tissues are -softer and milkier; it enters obliquely, making a fairly long journey, to prepare -for the grub a column of semolina suited to its first needs. Whether boring into nuts -or into acorns, the Balanini make the same delicate preparations for the benefit of -their offspring. -</p> -<p>At length there comes the placing of the egg, right at the bottom of the shaft. Here -the strange method which we already know is repeated. With a hinder rostrum, equal -in length to the front one and kept hidden away in the abdomen until the moment comes -for using it, the mother inserts her egg at the base of the kernel. -</p> -<p>I see these nursery precautions only in my <span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>mind’s eye, but I see them very clearly, enlightened as I am by my examination of -the nut converted into a cradle and above all by the method of the Acorn-weevil. Still, -I might aim at something better than this; I should like to witness the operation: -rather a hopeless ambition, I fear. -</p> -<p>In my neighbourhood, indeed, the hazel is scarce and its regular exploiter is almost -unknown. Nevertheless, let us make the experiment with the six hazel-trees which I -planted in the paddock long ago. First of all we must stock them accordingly. -</p> -<p>A valley of the Gard, less parched than the Sérignan hills, provides me with a few -couples of the insect. They reach me by post at the end of April, when the nut, still -quite light in colour, soft and flattish, is beginning to emerge from the cup in which -it is sheathed. The kernel is far from formed; there is just a beginning, a promise -of a kernel. -</p> -<p>In the morning, in glorious weather, I put the strangers on the leaves of my hazels. -The journey has not tried them unduly. They look splendid in their modest drab costume. -The moment they are free, they half-open their wing-cases, spread their wings, fold -them again and once again unfurl them, without taking flight. These are mere muscular -exercises, serving to revive their strength after a long imprisonment. I regard these -sports in the sunlight as a good omen: my colonists will not run away. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span></p> -<p>Meantime the nuts are filling out daily and beginning to tempt and entice the children. -They are within reach of the smallest, who love to stuff their pockets with them and -to crunch them, cracking them between two stones. They receive express injunctions -to keep their hands off them. This year, for the sake of the Weevils whose history -I wish to learn, the joys of gathering nuts in May will be forbidden. -</p> -<p>What sort of ideas can such a prohibition produce in these ingenuous minds? If they -were of an age to understand me, I would say: -</p> -<p>‘My dears, beware of the great enchantress, Science. If ever one of you—which Heaven -forbid—should allow himself to be beguiled by her, let him remember my warning: in -exchange for the little secrets which she reveals to us, she demands much graver sacrifices -than a handful of nuts.’ -</p> -<p>The prohibition is understood; the tempting fruit is left almost untouched. For my -part, I inspect the nuts assiduously. All my trouble is unavailing: I do not succeed -in surprising a Balaninus engaged in her patient task of boring. At the utmost, at -sunset, I happen to see one who, hoisted to her full height, is trying to insert her -drill. The little that I observe teaches me nothing new; the Acorn-weevil has already -shown me as much. -</p> -<p>In any case, it is only a brief attempt. The insect is casting about and has not yet -found what <span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span>suits her. Perhaps the perforator of hazel-nuts works at night. -</p> -<p>In another respect I have been more fortunate. Some nuts, some of the first colonized, -are laid by in my study and subjected to frequent inspections. My diligence is rewarded -with success. -</p> -<p>At the beginning of August, two larvæ leave their coffers before my eyes. They have -no doubt long been chipping with the points of their mandibles, that patient chisel, -at the hard wall. The exit-hole is just finished when I take note of the coming departure. -A fine dust is falling by way of shavings. -</p> -<p>The window of release is distinct from the narrow aperture of the entrance. Perhaps -it will not do to obstruct this grating, which ventilates the house, while the grub -is still at work. The window aforesaid is situated at the base of the fruit, close -to the rough surface by which the nut adheres to its cupule. In this region, where -the incipient materials are elaborated until the nut is perfectly ripe, the density -is a little less than elsewhere. The point to be perforated is excellently chosen -therefore: it is here that the least resistance will be encountered. -</p> -<p>Without any preliminary auscultation, without exploratory soundings, the recluse knows -the weak point of his prison. Confident of success, he works away with a will. Where -the first blow of the pick is struck the others follow; no time is wasted on <span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>experiments. Persistence is the strength of the weak. -</p> -<p>It is done: daylight enters the coffer. The window is opened, round, widening a little -inwards and carefully polished over the whole circumference of its embrasure. Under -the burnisher of the mandibles any roughness that might presently increase the difficulty -of the emergence has disappeared. The holes in our steel draw-plates are scarcely -more accurate. -</p> -<p>The comparison with a draw-plate comes in quite aptly here: the larva actually frees -itself by a wire-drawing-operation. Like a length of brass wire which is reduced by -being passed through an orifice too narrow for its diameter, it escapes through the -window in the shell by decreasing its girth. The wire is drawn by an exertion on the -part of the workman’s pincers or by the rotation of the machine; it subsequently retains -the reduced thickness which the operation has given it. The grub knows another method: -it lengthens and thins itself by its own efforts; and, directly it has passed through -the narrow orifice, it returns to its natural size. Apart from these differences the -resemblance is striking. -</p> -<p>The exit-aperture is precisely the same width as the head, which, being rigid, with -a horny cap, does not lend itself to deformation. Where the head has passed, the body -has to pass, however fat it may be. When the liberation is completed, <span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>it is most surprising to see how bulky a cylinder, how corpulent a grub has contrived -to make its way through the tiny opening. If we had not witnessed the exodus, we should -never have suspected such a feat of gymnastics. -</p> -<p>The orifice, we were saying, is exactly fitted to the diameter of the head. Now this -inelastic head, by whose size that of the hole has been calculated, represents at -most one-third of the width of the body. How does a threefold thickness pass through -a single calibre? -</p> -<p>Here comes the head, without the least difficulty: it is the pattern to which the -door was built. The neck, a little wider, follows: a slight contraction frees it. -Next comes the turn of the chest and the plump belly. This is a most arduous operation. -The grub has no legs. It has nothing, neither hooks nor stiff bristles, that might -give it a purchase. It is a soft roly-poly which has, by its own efforts, to clear -the disproportionately narrow passage. -</p> -<p>What happens inside the nut escapes me: it is hidden by the opaque shell; what I see -outside is very simple and tells me of that which cannot be seen. The creature’s blood -rushes from back to front; the humours of the organism change their position and accumulate -in the part that has already emerged, which swells into a dropsy, attaining five or -six times the diameter of the head. -</p> -<p>In this way a large cushion is formed on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>kerb of the well, a girdle of energy which, by its dilatation and its intrinsic elasticity, -gradually extricates the remaining segments, which are diminished in volume by the -shifting of their fluid contents. -</p> -<p>It is a slow and very laborious business. The grub, in its free part, bends, draws -itself up and sways from side to side. We do the same when forcing a nail from side -to side to extract it from its socket. The mandibles gape widely, close and gape again, -with no intention of laying hold. These movements represent the yo-heave-hoes with -which the exhausted creature accompanies its efforts, like those of sailors hauling -on a cable. -</p> -<p>‘Yo-heave-ho!’ says the grub; and the sausage rises a peg higher. -</p> -<p>While the extracting pad is swelling and straining every muscle, it is evident that -the part still in the shell is draining itself of its humours as far as it possibly -can, making them flow into the part released. It is this that makes the wire-drawing -action feasible. -</p> -<p>One more effort of leverage from the inflated girdle; one more yawn: -</p> -<p>‘Heave-ho!’ -</p> -<p>That has done the trick. The grub glides over the shell and drops. -</p> -<p>One of the nuts which have just afforded me this sight was gathered on its branch -a few hours before. The grub, then, would have fallen to the ground <span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>from the height of the hazel-bush. Allowing for the proportions, such a fall would -for us mean a terrible crash; for the grub, so plastic and supple, it is a trifle. -It matters little to the larva whether it tumbles into the world from the top of the -bush or whether it quietly changes its lodgings a little later, when the nut, fallen -of its own ripeness, is lying on the ground. -</p> -<p>Without delay, as soon as free, it explores the soil within a restricted radius, seeks -a point easy to dig, finds it, does a little spade-work with its jaws, wriggles its -rump and buries itself. At no very great depth a spherical cavity is made by pressing -back the dusty soil. Here the grub will spend the winter and await the resurrection -of the spring. -</p> -<p>Were I so presumptuous as to advise the Balaninus, better-versed than any one in its -business as a Weevil, I should say: -</p> -<p>‘To leave your nut now is an act of folly. Later, when the April festival is here -and the hazels replace their drooping catkins by the pink pistils of their nascent -fruit, well and good; but to-day, in this time of blazing sunshine, which drives the -most gallant workers to idleness, what is the use of deserting a home in which you -can sleep so comfortably throughout the slack summer season? Where will you find a -better lodging than the shell of a hazel-nut when the autumn rains come and the winter -frosts? In what more peaceful solitude <span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span>could the delicate work of the transformation be effected? Besides, the subsoil is -full of dangers. It is damp and cold; its roughness makes it painful to the touch -for a skin as fine as yours. A formidable enemy lurks there, a cryptogam that implants -itself upon any buried larva. In my jars I have great difficulty in protecting the -buried larvæ which I am trying to rear. Sooner or later white tufts form upon the -glass wall, thread-like fluffs whose lower portion will clasp and drain a poor grub -turned into a scrap of plaster: it is the mycelium of one of the Sphæriaceæ whose -allotted field of exploitation is the bodies of insects undergoing nymphosis underground. -In the nut, a hygienic cell, free from devastating germs, nothing of the sort is to -be feared. Why leave it?’ -</p> -<p>These arguments the Balaninus meets with a refusal. It shifts its quarters, and it -is right. On the ground, where the nut is lying, it has reason, to begin with, to -dread the Field-mouse, a great hoarder of nuts. He collects in his stone-heap everything -yielded by his nightly rounds; then, at his leisure, with a patient tooth, he pierces -a small hole in the shell and extracts the kernel. -</p> -<p>The hazel-nut is a welcome find, a savoury morsel. If emptied by the Weevil, it is -only the more valuable: instead of its usual contents it contains the grub of the -Balaninus, a rich saveloy which makes a pleasant change from a farinaceous diet. So, -for fear of the Field-mouse, we go underground. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span></p> -<p>A still more important motive urges this departure. True, it would be pleasant to -sleep in the impregnable castle of the nut-shell; but the delivery of the future insect -has also to be thought of. The larva of the Capricorn, throwing caution to the winds, -leaves the interior of the oak and comes to the surface, risking the investigations -of the Woodpecker; it runs into danger to prepare an exit for the great horned Beetle, -who could not make his way out unaided. -</p> -<p>A similar precaution is necessary for the Weevil-larva. While possessing the full -strength of its mandibles, without waiting for the torpor during which the accumulated -fats will be remoulded into a new organism, it pierces the coffer from which the adult -would be incapable of escaping by her own efforts; it comes out and buries itself -in the ground. The future is wisely provided against; from its present catacomb the -adult will be able without hindrance to ascend to the light of day. -</p> -<p>We were saying that, if the Weevil assumed her final shape in the nut, she would be -incapable of effecting her own release. Yet with her drill she is very well able to -perforate the shell when the egg has to be installed. Why should she be prevented -from doing in the inverse direction what she is able to perform inwards from without? -A little reflection will show us the tremendous difficulty. -</p> -<p>To place the egg in position, a fine tube, of the thickness of the drill, is sufficient. -To give passage <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>to the solid adult Weevil would demand a comparatively enormous opening. The material -to be pierced is very hard, so hard that the larva, with the powerful gouges of its -mandibles, bores a hole only just big enough to allow the head to pass. The rest of -the body has to follow by dint of exhausting efforts. -</p> -<p>How could the insect open a sufficiently large door with its delicate foil, when the -far better-equipped grub has so much difficulty in boring a moderate porthole? Could -she not, by making a ring of perforations, remove a round disk of the requisite size? -Strictly speaking, this would be possible, with a prodigious expenditure of patience, -a quality which insects can hardly be said to lack. -</p> -<p>But here length of time is not enough: the boring-tool is absolutely unmanageable -inside the nut-shell. It is so long that, to implant it at the point to be drilled, -the Weevil, when she works outside, is obliged to stand erect. For lack of space under -the low ceiling of the shell, this position and the alternate tacking about become -impossible. -</p> -<p>However patient she herself may be and however well-armed we suppose the tip of her -drill to be, the Weevil, prevented from employing her auger by the narrowness of the -premises, would perish in her coffer. She would die a victim to her inordinate machinery, -which serves excellently well for pushing the egg into place, but which would be <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>very unwieldy if the prisoner had to effect her own delivery. -</p> -<p>Given a less exaggerated rostrum, just a short and powerful punch, the Weevil, methinks, -would not abandon the nut while she was still in the larva stage, the danger of the -Field-mouse notwithstanding. It is a delightful laboratory for the remodelling-process -of the metamorphosis. The shell, it is true, lies on the surface of the soil, unsheltered -and exposed to the north-wind. But what does the cold matter, provided that we keep -dry? The insect has little to fear from the frosts. Its slumbers are all the sweeter -when the torpor attending the renewal of its being is increased by the torpor due -to a low temperature. -</p> -<p>I am persuaded of it: if she carried a less cumbersome drill, the Balaninus would -not change her quarters the moment the kernel of her hazel-nut was consumed. My conviction -is based on the habits of other Weevils, in particular <i lang="la">Gymnetron thapsicola</i>, <span class="sc">Germ.</span>, who exploits the capsules of a mullein, <i lang="la">Verbascum thapsus</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>, the shepherd’s club, a frequent denizen of the tilled fields. As cells these capsules -are, though less in volume, almost the equivalent of the hazel-nut. -</p> -<p>They consist of strong shells, formed of two pieces closely joined, with no communication -whatever with the outside world. A Weevil of humble size and modest attire takes possession -of them in May and June as lodgings for her larvæ, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>gnaw the placenta of the fruit, laden with unripe seeds. -</p> -<p>In August the plant is withered, scorched by the sun, but still standing and topped -with its compact spike of capsules. Open some of these shells, almost as solid as -cherry-stones. Inside is the Weevil in the adult state. Open them in winter: the Gymnetron -has not gone. Open them for the last time in April: the little Weevil is still at -home. -</p> -<p>Meanwhile, fresh mulleins have sprouted hard by; they flower; their shells attain -the right degree of ripeness: the time has come to leave, to go and establish one’s -family. Not till then does the solitary demolish her hermitage, her capsule, which -has protected her so faithfully hitherto. -</p> -<p>And how does she do so? It is quite simple. Her rostrum is a short bradawl, easily -wielded therefore, even in the confined space of a cell. The shell, moreover, is not -too strong. It is a very dry vellum wrapper rather than a hard wooden wall. The recluse -drives her short-handled pick into it; she stabs and thumps and brings the wall crumbling -down. And now hurrah for the joys of the sun! Hurrah for the yellow flowers, with -stamens all bristling with violet hairs! -</p> -<p>Considering their tools, in one case of exaggerated length under a too low ceiling, -in another short and suited to the space available in the cell, are not both these -insects happily inspired, the first <span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>in leaving her nut prematurely, while the grub’s powerful shears enable her to do -so, the second in spending three parts of the year in the security of her shell, quitting -it only at the time of the wedding on the friendly plant? Thus do we see the impeccable -logic of the instincts revealed, even in the humblest creatures. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1436"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1436src">1</a></span> Jean de La Fontaine (1621–1695).—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1436src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e319">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter vii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE POPLAR-WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Generally speaking, the mother Weevil’s attainments are limited to slipping her eggs -into places where the grubs will find food to suit them and occasionally, with wonderfully -assured botanical tact, to varying the diet. She does little or no industrial work. -The niceties of the baby-linen or the feeding-bottle do not concern her. To this uncouth -maternity I know but one exception, appertaining to certain Weevils who, in order -to endow their young with preserved foodstuffs, have the knack of rolling a leaf, -which serves as board and lodging in one. -</p> -<p>Among these manufacturers of vegetable sausages the most skilful is the Poplar-weevil -(<i lang="la">Rhynchites populi</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), who is of modest size but splendidly attired. Her back glitters with gold and copper, -her abdomen with indigo-blue. Would you see her at work, you need but inspect the -lower twigs of the common black poplar, at the edge of the meadows, about the end -of May. -</p> -<p>While, overhead, spring’s caressing breezes stir the majestic green distaff and set -the leaves quivering on their flat stalks, down below, in a layer of <span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span>calmer air, this year’s tender shoots remain quiescent. Here above all, far from the -wind-tossed heights uncongenial to the industrious, the Rhynchites labours. And, as -the workshop is just at a man’s height, nothing is more easy than to watch the roller’s -actions. -</p> -<p>Easy, yes, but distressing, under a blazing sun, if you wish to follow the insect -in every detail of its method and the progress of its work. Moreover, this involves -long journeys, which take up time; and again it is none too favourable to precise -observations, which demand indefinite leisure and assiduous inspections at all hours -of the day. It is greatly preferable to pursue our studies in the comfort of our own -home; but it is above all things necessary that the insect should lend itself to our -plan. -</p> -<p>The Rhynchites fulfils this condition excellently well. She is a peaceable enthusiast -who works on my table with the same zest as on her poplar-tree. A few young shoots, -planted in fresh sand, under a wire-gauze cover, and renewed as and when they fade, -take the place of the tree in my work-room. The Weevil, not in the least intimidated, -devotes herself to her industry even under my magnifying-glass and supplies me with -as many cylinders as I could wish for. -</p> -<p>Let us watch her at work. From this year’s growth, sprouting in sheaves at the base -of the trunk, she chooses the leaf to be rolled; but she <span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>picks it not among the lower leaves, which are already of the usual green and of a -firm texture, nor yet among the end leaves, which are still growing. Above, they are -too young, not large enough; below, they are too old, too tough, too difficult to -manage. -</p> -<p>The leaf selected belongs to the intermediate rows. Though still of a doubtful green, -in which yellow predominates, soft and shiny with varnish, it has very nearly attained -the final dimensions. Its denticulations swell into delicate glandular pads, whence -oozes a little of the viscous matter that smears the buds at the moment when their -scales separate. -</p> -<p>Now a word on the tools. The legs are provided with two claws shaped like the hook -of a steel-yard. The lower side of the tarsi carries a thick brush of white bristles. -Thus shod, the insect very nimbly climbs the most slippery perpendicular walls; it -can stand and run like a Fly, back downwards, on the ceiling of a glass bell. This -characteristic alone is enough to suggest the delicate balance which its work will -demand. -</p> -<p>The beak, the curved and powerful rostrum, without being exaggerated in size, like -those of the Balanini, expands at the tip into a spatula ending in a pair of fine -shears. It makes an excellent stylet, which plays the first part of all. -</p> -<p>The leaf, as a matter of fact, cannot be rolled in its actual condition. It is a living -sheet which, <span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>owing to the rush of the sap and the resilience of the tissues, would recover its -flatness while the insect was endeavouring to bend it. The dwarf has not the strength -to master an object of this size, to roll it up so long as it retains the elasticity -of life. This is obvious to our eyes; it is obvious likewise to the Weevil’s. -</p> -<p>How is she to obtain the degree of lifeless flexibility required in the circumstances? -We might say: -</p> -<p>‘The leaf must be plucked, allowed to fall to the earth and manipulated on the ground -when sufficiently faded.’ -</p> -<p>The Weevil knows more than we do about these things and does not share our opinion. -What she says to herself is: -</p> -<p>‘On the ground, amid the intricate obstructions of the grass, my task would be impracticable. -I want elbow-room; I want the thing to hang in the air, free from any obstacle. And -there is a more important condition: my larva would refuse a rank, withered sausage; -it insists on food that retains a certain freshness. The cylinder which I intend for -its consumption must be not a dead leaf but an enfeebled leaf, not entirely deprived -of the juices with which the tree supplies it. I must wean my leaf and not kill it -outright, so that, when dead, it will remain in its place during the few days of the -grub’s extreme youth.’ -</p> -<p>The mother therefore, having made her selection, <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>takes up her stand on the stalk of the leaf and there patiently inserts her rostrum, -turning it with a persistency that denotes the great importance of this stiletto-thrust. -A little wound opens, a fairly deep wound, which soon becomes a speck of decay. -</p> -<p>It is done: the conduits are cut and allow only a small quantity of sap to ooze into -the edge. At the injured point the leaf yields under its own weight; it droops perpendicularly, -becomes slightly withered and soon acquires the requisite flexibility. The moment -has come for operating on it. -</p> -<p>That stiletto-thrust represents, though much less scientifically, the prick of the -Hunting Wasp’s sting.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1621src" href="#xd31e1621">1</a> The latter wants for her offspring a prey now dead, now paralysed: she knows, with -the thoroughness of a consummate anatomist, at what points it behoves her to insert -her lancet to procure either sudden death or merely a suppression of movement. The -Rhynchites requires for hers a leaf rendered flexible, half-alive, in a sense paralysed, -which can be easily fashioned into a cylinder; she is perfectly familiar with the -little leaf-stalk, the petiole, in which the vessels that disperse the energy of the -foliage are gathered in a tiny bundle; and she inserts her drill here, here only and -never elsewhere. Thus at one blow, without much trouble, she effects the ruin of the -aqueduct. <span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>Where can the long-nosed insect have learnt her clever trick of draining springs? -</p> -<p>The leaf of the poplar is an irregular rhombus, a spear-head whose sides are expanded -into pointed wings. The manufacture of the cylinder begins with one of these two lateral -corners, the right or the left indifferently. -</p> -<p>Despite the hanging posture of the leaf, which makes the upper or lower surface equally -easy of access, the insect never fails to take up its position on the upper side. -It has its reasons, dictated by the laws of mechanics. The upper surface, which is -smooth and more flexible, has to form the inside of the cylinder; the under surface, -which has greater elasticity because of its powerful veins, has to occupy the outside. -The statics of the small-brained Weevils agrees with that of the scientists. -</p> -<p>Watch her at work. She is standing on the line along which the leaf is rolled, with -three legs on the part already rolled and the three opposite legs on the part still -free. Firmly fixed on both with her claws and tufts, she obtains a purchase with the -legs on one side while straining with the legs on the other side. The two halves of -the machine alternate as motive powers, so that at one moment the shaped cylinder -encroaches on the free leaf and at another the free leaf moves and is applied to the -cylinder already formed. -</p> -<p>There is nothing regular, however, about these <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>alternations, which depend upon circumstances known to the insect alone. Perhaps they -merely enable the insect to take a brief rest without suspending a task which does -not allow of interruptions. In the same way our two hands mutually relieve each other -by taking it in turns to carry a burden. -</p> -<p>It is impossible to form an exact image of the difficulties overcome without watching, -for hours on end, the obstinate straining of the legs, which tremble with exhaustion -and threaten to jeopardize everything should one of them let go at the wrong moment, -or without seeing how prudently the leaf-roller refrains from releasing one claw until -the five others are firmly anchored. On the one hand are three points of support, -on the other three points of traction; and the six points are shifted, one by one, -little by little, without for an instant allowing their mechanical system to become -relaxed. A single moment of forgetfulness or weariness would cause the refractory -leaf to unroll its cylinder and escape from the manipulator’s grasp. -</p> -<p>The work is performed, moreover, in an uncomfortable position. The leaf hangs, almost -or even quite vertically. Its surface is varnished and as smooth as glass. But the -worker is shod accordingly. With her tufted soles, she scales polished and perpendicular -surfaces; with her twelve meat-hooks, she grapples the slippery floor. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span></p> -<p>Yet this fine equipment does not rid the operation of all its difficulties. I find -it no easy matter to follow the progress through the magnifying-glass. The hands of -a watch do not move more slowly. For a long while the insect stands still, at the -same point, with its claws firmly fixed: it is waiting for the leaf to take the curve -and cease to react. Here, of course, there is no glue to set hard and hold the fresh -surfaces stuck together. The stability depends purely on the flexion acquired. And -so it is not unusual for the elasticity of the leaf to overcome the worker’s efforts -and partly to unroll the more or less complete work. Stubbornly, with the same impassive -slowness, the insect begins all over again, putting the unsubjected piece back into -its place. No, the Weevil is not one to allow herself to be upset by failure: she -knows too well what patience and time can do. -</p> -<p>As a rule, the Rhynchites works backwards. When her line is finished, she is careful -not to abandon the fold which she has just made in order to return to the starting-point -and begin another. The part last folded is not yet sufficiently subdued; if left to -itself too soon, it might prove rebellious and flatten out again. The insect therefore -continues at this extreme point, which is more exposed than the rest, and then, without -letting go, makes her way backwards to the other end, always with patient deliberation. -In this manner, an added <span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>firmness is imparted to the new fold; and the next fold is prepared. At the end of -the line, there is a fresh prolonged halt and a fresh move backwards. Even so does -the husbandman plough the furrows in alternate directions. -</p> -<p>Less frequently, no doubt when the leaf is found to be so limp as to entail no risk, -the insect abandons the fold which it has just made, without going over it again conversely, -and quickly scrambles back to the starting-point to make another. -</p> -<p>Here we are at last. Coming and going from top to bottom and from bottom to top, the -insect, by dint of stubborn dexterity, has rolled its leaf. It is now at the extreme -edge of the leaf, at the lateral corner opposite to that whereat the work began. This -is the keystone on which the stability of the rest depends. The Rhynchites redoubles -her efforts and her patience. With the tip of her rostrum, expanded spatula-wise, -she presses, point by point, the edge to be fixed, even as the tailor presses the -rebellious edges of a seam with his iron. For a long, a very long time, without moving, -she pushes and pushes, awaiting a proper degree of adhesion. Point by point, the whole -welt of the corner is minutely and carefully made fast. -</p> -<p>How is adhesion obtained? If only some sort of thread were employed, one might very -well regard the rostrum as a sewing-machine, inserting its needle at right angles -into the stuff. But the comparison is not permissible: there is no filament <span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>employed in the work. The explanation of the adhesion lies elsewhere. -</p> -<p>The leaf is young, we said; the fine pads of its denticulations are glands emitting -traces of liquid glue. These drops of sticky matter are the gum, the sealing-wax. -By the pressure of its beak, the insect makes it flow more abundantly from the glands. -It then has only to hold the signet in position and wait for the viscous seal to set. -Taken all round, this is our own method of sealing a letter. If it holds ever so lightly, -the leaf, losing its resilience as it gradually withers, will soon cease to react -and will of itself retain the cylindrical shape imposed upon it. -</p> -<p>The work is finished. It is a cigar of the diameter of a thick straw and about an -inch long. It hangs perpendicularly from the end of the stalk bruised and bent at -a sharp angle. It has taken the whole day to manufacture. After a short spell of rest, -the mother tackles a second leaf and, working by night, obtains another cylinder. -Two in twenty-four hours is as much as the most diligent can achieve. -</p> -<p>Now what is the roller’s object? Can she be preparing preserves for her own use? Obviously -not: no insect, where itself alone is concerned, devotes such care and patience to -the preparation of food. It is only with a view to the family that it hoards so industriously. -The Rhynchites’ cigar forms a dowry for the future. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span></p> -<p>Let us unroll it. Here, between the layers of the cylinder, is the egg; often there -are two, three or even four. They are oval, pale-yellow, like fine drops of amber. -Their adhesion to the leaf is very slight; the least jerk loosens them. They are distributed -without order, tucked away more or less deeply in the thickness of the cigar and always -isolated, one at a time. We find them in the centre of the scroll, almost at the corner -where the rolling begins; we come upon them between the different layers and even -near the edge sealed in glue with the signet of the rostrum. -</p> -<p>Without interrupting her work on the cylinder, without relaxing the tension of her -claws, the mother laid them between the edges of the fold which she was forming, as -she felt them coming, duly matured, at the end of her oviduct. She produces life in -the very midst of her labours, amid the wheels of the machine which would be thrown -out of gear if she snatched a moment’s rest. Industry and procreation go hand-in-hand. -Short-lived, with but two or three weeks before her and an expensive family to establish, -the mother Rhynchites would not dare to waste time in being churched. -</p> -<p>This is not all: on the same leaf, not far from the cylinder that is being laboriously -rolled, we almost always find the male. What is he doing there, the lazybones? Is -he watching the work as a mere onlooker, who happened to be passing <span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>and stopped to see the wheels go round? Is he interested in the business? Does he -ever feel inclined to lend a helping hand in case of need? -</p> -<p>One would say so. From time to time I see him take his stand behind his industrious -mate, in the furrow of the fold, hang on to the cylinder and join in the work for -a little. But it is done listlessly and awkwardly. A bare half-turn of the wheel; -and that’s enough for him. After all, it is not his affair. He moves away, to the -other end of the leaf; he waits, he looks on. -</p> -<p>We will give him credit for this attempt, since paternal assistance in settling the -family is rare among insects; we will congratulate him on the help which he gives, -but not to excess: his assistance is interested. It is a means of declaring his flame -and urging his merits. -</p> -<p>And in fact, after several refusals, notwithstanding the advances made during a brief -collaboration on the cylinder, the impatient suitor is accepted. Everything takes -place on the site of the female’s labours. For ten minutes or so the rolling is suspended, -but the worker’s legs, violently contracted, are very careful not to let go: were -their effort to cease, the cylinder might at once come unrolled. There must be no -interruption of work for this brief diversion, the insect’s only enjoyment. -</p> -<p>The stoppage of the machine, which remains tense in order to keep the recalcitrant -roll in subjection, is soon over. The male retires to a little <span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>distance, without quitting the leaf, and the task is resumed. Sooner or later, before -the seals are set upon the work, a fresh visit is paid by the dawdler, who, under -pretence of assisting, comes running up, sticks his claws for a moment into the partly-rolled -piece, plucks up courage and renews his exploits with as much liveliness as though -nothing had yet occurred. And this is repeated three or four times during the making -of a single cigar, so much so that we begin to wonder whether the laying of each egg -may not require the direct co-operation of the insatiable swain. -</p> -<p>It is true that numerous couples are formed in the sunlight, on the leaves not yet -punctured. Here the nuptial gambols are really a frolic unaffected by the stern demands -of labour. The insects revel unreservedly, hustling their rivals off the field and -browsing on half the thickness of a leaf, which becomes furrowed with bare streaks -resembling a freakish handwriting. The fatigues of the workshop are preceded by merry-making -in gay company. -</p> -<p>According to the rules of entomology, once these rejoicings are over, all should be -quiet again and each mother should get to work on her cigars without further disturbance. -In this case the general law relents. I have never seen a cylinder formed without -a male lurking in the neighbourhood; and if I had the patience to wait, I should not -fail to witness repeated pairings. These weddings <span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>renewed for each egg puzzle me. Where, on the faith of the text-books, I looked for -a single mating, I find an indefinite number. -</p> -<p>This is not an isolated instance. I will mention a second, which is even more striking. -It is supplied by the Capricorn (<i lang="la">Cerambyx heros</i>). I rear a few couples in captivity, with sliced pears for food and with oak billets -wherein to lay the eggs. The pairing is continued during almost the whole of July. -For four weeks the long-horned Beetle does nothing but mount his mate, who, gripped -by her rider, wanders at will and, with the point of her oviscapt, selects the fissures -in the bark best-suited to receive the eggs. -</p> -<p>At long intervals, the Cerambyx steps off and goes to refresh himself on a piece of -pear. Then suddenly he stamps his feet as though he had gone mad; he returns with -a frantic rush, clambers into the saddle and resumes his seat, of which he makes free -use at all hours of the night and day. At the moment when the egg is being placed -in position, he keeps quiet; with his hairy tongue he polishes the egg-layer’s back, -which is a Capricorn’s way of caressing; but the next instant he renews his attempts, -which are usually followed by success. There is no end to it! -</p> -<p>The pairing continues in this manner for a month; it does not cease until the ovaries -are exhausted. Then, mutually worn out, having no further business on the trunk of -the oak, husband <span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>and wife separate, languish for a few days, and die. -</p> -<p>What conclusion are we to draw from this extraordinary persistency in the Cerambyx, -the Rhynchites and many others? Simply this: our truths are but provisional; assailed -by the truths of to-morrow, they become entangled with so many contradictory facts -that the last word of knowledge is doubt. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1621"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1621src">1</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: <i>passim</i>; also <i>More Hunting Wasps</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: <i>passim</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1621src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e328">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter viii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE VINE-WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In the spring, while the poplar-leaves are being worked into cylinders, another Rhynchites, -who is likewise magnificently attired, is making cigars out of vine-leaves. She is -a little bigger, of a metallic lustre, a golden green that changes to blue. Were she -only larger, the resplendent Vine-weevil would occupy a very respectable place among -the gems of entomology. -</p> -<p>To attract our eyes, she has something better than her brilliancy: she has her industry, -which has earned her the hatred of the vine-grower, jealous of his property. The peasant -knows her: he even calls her by a special name, an honour rarely bestowed in the world -of the smaller creatures. -</p> -<p>The rural vocabulary is rich in names of plants, but very poor in names of insects. -A couple of dozen words, inextricably confused because of their general character, -represent the whole list of insect names in our Provençal idiom, expressive and fertile -though this idiom be when it refers to the vegetable world and even, at times, to -a sorry weed which one would think was known to the botanist only. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span></p> -<p>The man of the soil is interested above all things in the plant, the great foster-mother; -all else leaves him indifferent. Splendid adornment, curious habits, marvels of instinct: -all these make no appeal to him. But to touch his vine, to eat other people’s grass: -what a heinous crime! Quick, a name, a badge of infamy, to hang round the malefactor’s -neck! -</p> -<p>This time the Provençal peasant has taken the trouble to invent a special term: he -calls the cigar-roller the <i lang="fr">Bécaru</i>. Here the scientific name and the rural name are in complete agreement. <i lang="la">Rhynchites</i> and <i lang="fr">Bécaru</i> are exact equivalents: both allude to the insect’s long beak. -</p> -<p>But how much more correct is the vine-grower’s term, in its lucid simplicity, than -the scientific name, set forth in full, with its imperative complement relating to -the species! I rack my brain in vain to guess the reason why the cigar-roller of the -vine was called the Rhynchites of the Birch (<i lang="la">R. betuleti</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span>). -</p> -<p>If there be in fact a Weevil that exploits the birch-tree, it is certainly not the -same as that of the vineyards: the two leaves to be rolled are too dissimilar in shape -and size to suit the same worker. -</p> -<p>Recorders of descriptions, you who, under the scrupulous eye of the magnifying-glass, -specify the shapes and establish the identity of the animal species, before you give -names and surnames to your impaled insects, pray, pray inquire a little <span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span>into their manner of life. By so doing, you will see things more clearly, you will -avoid much detestable nonsense, and you will spare the novice such doubts as those -which obsess him when he finds himself obliged to label a Weevil inhabiting the vine-branches -as a Rhynchites of the Birch. We are ready to excuse cacophonous syllables and grating -consonants; but we reject with exasperation a name that misrepresents the facts. -</p> -<p>In her work the Vine-weevil pursues the same method as the Poplar-weevil. The leaf -is first pricked with the rostrum at a point on the stalk, which checks the flow of -the sap and makes the edges of the faded leaf pliable. The rolling begins at the angle -of one of the lower lobes, with the smooth, green upper surface inside and the downy, -strongly-veined lower surface outside. -</p> -<p>But the great size of the leaf and its deeply indented outline hardly ever allow of -regular work from one end of the leaf to the other. Over and over again, sudden folds -occur and alter the direction of the rolling, leaving now the green and now the downy -surface outside, without any appreciable design, as though by chance. The poplar-leaf, -with its simple form and its moderate size, yields an elegant cylinder; the vine-leaf, -with its cumbersome width and complicated outline, produces a shapeless cigar, an -untidy bundle. -</p> -<p>This is not due to defective talents, but to the difficulty of manipulating and controlling -a leaf <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>of this kind. The mechanical method, indeed, is the same as that practised on the -poplar-leaf. With three legs here and three legs there on the edges of the fold, the -<i lang="fr">Bécaru</i> obtains a purchase on one side and tugs and strains on the other. -</p> -<p>Like her rival cigar-maker, she works backwards, keeping her eyes upon the part which, -folded that moment and still unset, may require immediate touching up. The product -is thus watched until it gives proof of its stability. -</p> -<p>Like the other, she too seals the denticulations of the final layer by pressing them -with her rostrum. Here there is no sticky secretion oozing from the edges of the leaf, -but there is a downy fluff whose fibres get entangled and cause adhesion. On the whole, -therefore, the method employed by the two Rhynchites is the same. -</p> -<p>Nor do their domestic habits differ. While the mother is patiently rolling her cylinder, -the father remains close at hand, on the same leaf. He looks on. Next, he comes running -along in a hurry, takes his stand in the crease and kindly lends the assistance of -his grappling-irons. But he again is not a very diligent helper. His brief collaboration -is a pretext to tease the worker and achieve his ends by sheer persistence. -</p> -<p>He retires satisfied. Let us watch him. Before the roll is finished, we shall see -him return many times, inspired by the same intentions, which are rarely scorned. -I need not insist further on these <span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>pairings, which are repeated indefinitely and run counter to the classic data on one -of the nicest points of insect physiology. To impress the seal of life upon the hundreds -of eggs of the mother Bombyx,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1748src" href="#xd31e1748">1</a> or the thirty thousand or more of the mother Bee, the father exerts only one direct -intervention. The Weevil claims the privilege of intervening for almost every egg. -I leave the curious problem to the experts. -</p> -<p>Let us unroll a recently-made cigar. The eggs, fine, amber-coloured beads, are scattered, -one by one, at very different depths in the spiral. As a rule, I find several, from -five to eight. The multiplicity of fellow-feasters, in both the rolled poplar-leaf -and the rolled vine-leaf, bears witness to extreme frugality. -</p> -<p>The two leaf-rollers are quickly hatched: the grub is born in five or six days’ time. -Then the observer begins to be faced with the same difficulties that beset a prentice -hand in the rearing of larvæ; and these difficulties are all the more exasperating -in that there was nothing to predict them. The course to be followed here seems indeed -so very simple. -</p> -<p>Since the rolled leaves are at the same time board and lodging, we have but to pick -them, from the vine and the poplar respectively, and to place them in the glass jars, -whence we can take them at such times as we consider suitable. What used to be <span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>effected in the open air, amid the disturbances of the atmosphere, will be effected -all the better in the peaceful shelter of the glass. There can be no doubt, therefore, -of an easy success. -</p> -<p>But what is this? From time to time I unroll a few cigars to ascertain the state of -their contents. What I see fills me with anxiety for the fate of my baby-farm. The -young larvæ are very far from thriving. I find some of them languishing and emaciated, -shrivelling into a wrinkled ball; I find some of them dead. Vainly I possess myself -in patience: the weeks go by and not one of my grubs grows or gives a sign of energy. -From day to day my two colonies dwindle until they consist wholly of dying larvæ. -When July comes, there is not a living thing left in my glass jars. -</p> -<p>All have died. And of what? Of starvation, yes, of starvation in a well-stored granary. -This is evident from the small amount of food consumed. The cylinders are almost untouched; -at most I perceive in the midst of their layers a few scratches, the traces of a scornful -tooth. Probably the food was too dry, had been rendered uneatable by desiccation. -</p> -<p>Under natural conditions, while the burning heat of the sun hardened the leaves by -day, the mists and the dew softened them at night. Thus, in the heart of the spiral -layers, a column of soft crumb is preserved, a necessity for the tender nurselings. -A sojourn in the uniformly dry atmosphere <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>of the jars has, on the other hand, turned the roll into a hard, stale crust which -the grubs refused to touch. The failure is due to that. -</p> -<p>A year later, I begin again, this time more cautiously. The rolled leaves, I said -to myself, remain hanging for some days on the vine or the poplar. The perforation -of the leaf-stalk has not completely severed the ducts conveying the sap; a scanty -flow still persists and for some time maintains a certain flexibility in the leaf, -especially in the centre of the spiral, which is not exposed to the action of the -sun. Consequently the new-born grub has fresh provisions within reach of its mandibles. -It waxes big and strong and acquires a stomach able to satisfy itself with less tender -food. -</p> -<p>Meantime, from day to day, the roll turns brown and dry. If it remained indefinitely -hanging on the bough and if, as often happens, there were a lack of moisture at nights, -it would dry up completely and its inmates would perish as they did in my glass jars. -But, sooner or later, the wind shakes them off and they drop to the ground. -</p> -<p>Their fall is the salvation of the grub, which is still very far from full-grown. -At the foot of the poplar, under the grass of the meadow subject to frequent irrigation, -the soil is always damp; at the foot of the vine-stock, the earth, overshadowed by -the branches, fairly well retains the moisture of the last showers. Lying in the wet -and sheltered <span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>from the direct onslaughts of the sun, the Rhynchites’ victuals remain as soft as -need be. -</p> -<p>Thus I argued, meditating a fresh experiment; and the facts confirmed the accuracy -of my forecast. This time all goes well. Rather than the green rolls of recent manufacture, -I gather the brown cigars which are due to fall to the ground. The larvæ in these -latter, being older, are less difficult to rear. Lastly, my harvest is installed in -glass jars as before, but on a bed of moist sand. With this and this alone I achieve -complete success. -</p> -<p>Despite the mildew which this time invades the heaped cigars and seems bound to jeopardize -everything, the larvæ thrive and grow without hindrance. The decay which I distrusted -so much in the beginning, when I kept my crops dry to avoid it, this decay suits them. -I see them taking big mouthfuls of decomposing shreds, the tainted remains of leaves -that have almost turned to mould. -</p> -<p>I am no longer surprised that in my first experiments my nurselings allowed themselves -to die of hunger. Obeying a mistaken idea of hygiene, I took pains to keep the rations -in good condition, in an atmosphere free from mustiness. I ought, on the contrary, -to have allowed fermentation to do its work, softening the tough tissues and enhancing -their flavour. -</p> -<p>Six weeks later, in the middle of June, the oldest rolls are dilapidated hovels, retaining -scarcely a <span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>trace of their cylindrical form save the outer layer, a protecting roof. Let us open -one of these ruins. Inside, there is absolute wreck, a mixture of shapeless remnants -and black granules, like fine gunpowder; outside, a crumbling envelope, pierced here -and there with holes. These openings tell me that the inhabitants have departed and -made their way underground. -</p> -<p>I find them, in fact, in the layers of moist sand with which the jars are provided. -Pushing and heaving with their backs, they have each dug themselves a round hollow, -taking up the least possible room, in which the grub, rolled into a bunch, makes ready -for its new life. -</p> -<p>Though formed of sandy particles, the wall of the cell does not threaten to collapse. -Before lapsing into the sleep of the transformation, the recluse has deemed it prudent -to strengthen its house. With a little care, I am able to detach the dwelling in the -form of a little ball the size of a pea. -</p> -<p>I then discover that the materials are cemented by means of a gummy produce which, -liquid at the moment of its emission, has penetrated to a sufficient depth and welded -the sandy grains into a wall of a certain thickness. This product, which is colourless -and not very plentiful, leaves me in doubt as to its origin. It certainly does not -come from glands similar to the silk-tubes of the caterpillars; the Weevil-grub possesses -nothing of that <span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>kind. It is, therefore, a contribution from the digestive canal, presented through -either the entrance or the exit-door. Which of the two? -</p> -<p>Without completely solving the question of this cement, another Weevil supplies a -fairly probable answer. This is <i lang="la">Brachycerus algirus</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span>, an ugly, unwieldy insect, covered with little warts each ending in a claw-like horn. -It is soot-black and almost always soiled with earth when you meet it in spring. This -dusty garb denotes a tunneller. -</p> -<p>The Brachycerus, in fact, haunts the subsoil, hunting for garlic, the exclusive food -of her larva. In my modest kitchen-garden, garlic, dear to the Provence folk, has -its special corner. At the time when we gather it, in July, most of the heads give -me a magnificent grub, fat as butter, which has dug itself a large hollow in one of -the cloves, only one, without touching the rest. This is the grub of the Brachycerus, -which discovered the <i>aioli</i> of the Provençal cooks long before they did. -</p> -<p>Raw garlic, Raspail<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1799src" href="#xd31e1799">2</a> used to say, is the camphor of the poor. The camphor possibly, but not the bread. -This paradox becomes a reality in the case of our grub, which is so much in love with -this powerful condiment that it will not eat anything else its whole life long. How, -with this fiery diet, does it put on such fine layers of fat? That is its <span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span>secret; and there is room for every sort of taste in this world of ours. -</p> -<p>After eating its clove, this lover of garlic dives deeper into the soil, fearing perhaps -the lifting of the bulbs, the time for which will soon arrive. It foresees the annoyance -which the market-gardener would cause it; and it goes below, far from the natal plant. -</p> -<p>I have reared a dozen in a jar half full of sand. Some have established themselves -right against the wall, which enables me to obtain a vague idea of how things happen -in the underground cell. The builder is bent into a bow which now and again closes -and forms a circle. I then seem to see it collecting, with the tips of its mandibles, -as the Larini do, a sticky drop which forms at its hinder end. With this it soaks -the sandy wall and smears the glass, on which the stuff hardens in cloudy streaks, -white and pale-yellow. -</p> -<p>On the whole, the appearance of the cement employed and the little that I can see -of the grub’s proceedings incline me to believe that the Brachycerus strengthening -its cabin uses the same method as the Larinus building its thatched hut. The Brachycerus -also knows the whimsical secret of turning the intestine into a factory of hydraulic -cement. The sandy agglomerate thus obtained forms a fairly solid shell, in which the -insect, which reaches the adult stage in August, remains until the garlic season is -at hand. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span></p> -<p>This method may well be general among the various Weevils that, in the larval, nymphal -or adult state, spend part of the year tucked away in an underground shell. The leaf-rollers, -notably the Rhynchites of the poplar and the vine, sparing though they be in the use -of their cement, no doubt have a store of it in their intestine, for it would be difficult -for them to find anything better. Let us, however, leave a door open to doubt and -continue. -</p> -<p>For the first time, at the end of August, four months after the rolling of the cigars, -I take the Poplar-weevil in her adult form out of her shell. I disinter her in all -her gleaming gold and copper; but the beauty, if I had left her undisturbed, would -have slept in her subterranean fortress till the young leaves sprouted on her tree, -in April. -</p> -<p>I disinter others, soft and quite white, whose limp wing-cases open to allow the crumpled -wings to spread. The most advanced of these pale sleepers boast, by way of a startling -contrast, a deep-black rostrum with violet gleams. The Sacred Beetle, in the early -days of his final form, begins by hardening and colouring his implements of labour: -the toothed arm-pieces and the clypeus with its semi-circular notching. The Weevil -likewise in the first place hardens and colours her drill. These industrious workers -interest me with their preparations. Barely has the rest of the body set and crystallized -before the tools of its future work <span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>acquire exceptional strength, which they owe to an early and long-protracted tempering. -</p> -<p>From the broken shells I also take nymphs and larvæ. The latter apparently will not -pass beyond the first stage this year. What is the use of hurrying? The larva, no -less than the adult and perhaps more so, is given to slumbering through the severities -of the winter. When the poplar unfurls its sticky buds and the Cricket on the greensward -strikes up the first bars of his melody, they will be ready, one and all: the forward -and backward alike; faithful to the call of spring, all will come forth from the ground, -eager to climb the kindly tree and to renew the leaf-rollers’ festival in the sunlight. -</p> -<p>In its pebbly, parching soil, on which the food-cylinders dry up so quickly, the Vine-weevil -lags behind, exposed as she is to periods of unemployment due to the absence of properly -softened food. It is in September and October that I obtain the first adults, splendid -gems, enclosed, until spring, in their casket, the underground shell. At this season -there is an abundance of buried nymphs and larvæ. Many of the grubs even have not -yet left their cylinders; but, to judge by their size, they will hardly linger much -longer. At the first frosts, all will become torpid and postpone their further development -until the end of the winter. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1748"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1748src">1</a></span> The Silk-worm Moth.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1748src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1799"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1799src">2</a></span> Francis Vincent Raspail (1794–1878), a French physician and politician, one of the -early advocates of universal suffrage.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1799src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e336">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter ix</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">OTHER LEAF-ROLLERS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Is the insect’s trade determined by the nature of the tools of which it disposes, -or, on the contrary, is it independent of them? Does the organic structure govern -the instincts, or do the insect’s various aptitudes hark back to origins that cannot -be explained merely by the details of its anatomy? We shall obtain an answer to these -questions from two other leaf-rollers, the Apoderus of the Hazel (<i lang="la">A. coryli</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>) and the Attelabus (<i lang="la">A. curculionoides</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), both of them eager rivals of the cigar-makers who work the poplar and the vine. -</p> -<p>According to the Greek lexicon, the term Apoderus ought to mean ‘the flayed.’ Is this -really what the author of the expression had in mind? My few books, the odd volumes -of a village naturalist, do not enable me to reply. However, to me the word is explained -by the insect’s colour. -</p> -<p>The Apoderus is a skinless creature, displaying its naked and bleeding misery. Its -colour is vermilion, as bright as sealing-wax. It is like a drop of arterial blood -coagulated on the dark green of a leaf. -</p> -<p>To this loud costume, rare among insects, are <span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span>added other, equally unusual characteristics. The Weevils are all microcephalous. -This one exaggerates the absurd disproportion even further: she retains only the indispensable -minimum of a head, as though she were trying to do without one altogether. The cranium -in which her poor brain is lodged is a paltry, glittering, jet-black speck. In front -of this speck is no beak, but a very short, wide snout; behind is an unsightly neck, -which one might imagine to have been strangled in a halter. -</p> -<p>Standing high on her legs, clumsy in her gait, she ambles step by step across her -leaf, which she pierces with round windows. The material removed is her food. Faith, -a strange creature: a reminiscence, maybe, of some ancient mould, cast aside by life’s -progress! -</p> -<p>Three Apoderi and no more figure in the European fauna. The best-known is that of -the hazel. This is the one to whom I propose to devote my attention. I find her here, -not on the hazel, her lawful domain, but on the common alder. This change in her activities -deserves a brief investigation. -</p> -<p>My district does not suit the hazel very well; the climate is unfavourable, being -too hot and dry. On the high slopes of Mont Ventoux it grows sparsely; in the plain, -except in the gardens where a few find a footing, they are no longer to be seen. In -the absence of the fostering bush, <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>the insect, without becoming impossible, is at least extremely rare. -</p> -<p>Long though I have been beating the brambles of my countryside over an umbrella held -upside down, here is our Apoderus for the first time. For three springs in succession -I see the red Weevil on the alder and observe her work. One tree, one alone and always -the same, in the osier-beds of the Aygues provides me with this leaf-roller, whom -I now for the first time see alive. The other alders round about have not a trace -of her, though they are only a few yards distant. There is here, on this privileged -tree, a small, accidental colony, a settlement of foreigners, who are becoming acclimatized -before extending their domain. -</p> -<p>How did they come here? Undoubtedly brought by the torrent. The geographers call the -Aygues a water-course. As an eye-witness, I should call it, more accurately, a pebble-course. -Understand me: I do not mean that the dry pebbles flow down it of themselves; the -low gradient does not permit of such an avalanche. But only let it rain; and they -will stream fast enough. Then I can hear the roar of the grinding stones from my house, -a mile and a quarter distant. -</p> -<p>During the greater part of the year, the Aygues is a broad expanse of white pebbles; -of the torrent naught remains but the bed, a furrow of enormous width, comparable -with that of its mighty neighbour, the Rhone. Let the rain fall persistently, <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>let the snows melt on the slopes of the Alps; and the thirsty furrow fills for a few -days: roaring, it overflows to a great distance and turbulently shifts its shoals -of pebbles. Return a week later. The roar of the flood is succeeded by silence. The -terrible waters have disappeared, leaving on the banks, as the trace of their brief -passage, wretched muddy puddles soon absorbed by the sun. -</p> -<p>These sudden freshets bring a thousand live gleanings swept off the flanks of the -mountains. The dry bed of the Aygues is a most interesting botanical garden. There -you may gather many vegetable species brought down from the higher levels, some temporary, -disappearing without offspring in a single season, others persisting and adapting -themselves to the new climate. They come from far away, from the heights, these exiles; -to pluck this one or that in its true environment you would have to climb Mont Ventoux, -pass beyond the zone of the beeches and reach the altitude where trees cannot grow. -</p> -<p>Alien zoology in its turn is represented in the osier-beds, whose calm is disturbed -only during unusually prolonged floods. My attention is attracted especially by the -land-mollusc, that champion stay-at-home. In stormy weather, when the thunder growls—<i lang="fr">lou tambour di cacalauso</i>, as the Provençal calls it—the most that the Snail permits himself in the matter -of moving about is to issue from his stronghold, some crevice in the rocks, <span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>and to browse before his door upon the grasses, mosses and lichens made tender by -the flood. It takes a cataclysm to make that one travel! -</p> -<p>The wild freshets of the Aygues succeed in doing so. They bring into my part of the -world and deposit in the osier-thickets the largest of our Snails, <i lang="la">Helix pomatia</i>, the glory of Burgundy.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1871src" href="#xd31e1871">1</a> Rolled down the grassy mountain-slopes by the showers, the exile defies immersion -within the water-tight cover of his chalky operculum; he endures the jolting, thanks -to his strong shell. He travels by stages, from one osier-bed to another. He descends -as far even as the Rhone and colonizes the Île des Rats and the Île du Colombier opposite -the mouth of the Aygues. -</p> -<p>Whence does he come, this enforced emigrant, whom one would vainly seek elsewhere -in the land of the olive? He loves a moderate temperature, green turf, cool shades. -His place of origin is certainly not here, but far away on the rounded heights of -the lower, outermost Alps. The highlander’s exile none the less seems pleasant. The -big Snail does quite well in the marshy scrub on the banks of the torrent. -</p> -<p>Neither is the Apoderus a native. She is a castaway, hailing from the hazel-clad heights. -She has made the voyage in a little boat, that is to say, in the leafy cockle-shell -in which the grub is born. The vessel was tightly closed, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span>made the passage possible. Running ashore at some point on the bank in the height -of summer, the insect perforated its cell and, not finding its favourite tree, established -itself upon the alder. There it founded a family, remaining faithful to the same tree -for the three years during which I had to do with it. It is probable, for that matter, -that the origin of the settlement dates farther back. -</p> -<p>The history of this stranger interests me. The primordial conditions of her life—climate -and food—are changed. Her ancestors lived under a temperate sky; they grazed on the -leaf of the hazel-bush; they manufactured cylinders out of piece-goods made familiar -by the constant practice of past generations. But the wanderer is living under a torrid -sky; she grazes on the alder-leaf, whose flavour and nutritive properties must differ -from those of the family diet; she works at an unknown piece, though it is not unlike -the normal piece in shape and size. What changes has this disturbance of its diet -and climate effected in the insect’s characteristics? -</p> -<p>Absolutely none. In vain I pass the magnifying-glass over the exploiter of the alder -and over the exploiter of the hazel-bush, of whom the latter has reached me from the -heart of the Corrèze by post. I see not the least difference between the two, even -in the smallest details. Can the method of industry have been modified? Without seeing -<span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span>the work done with a hazel-leaf, I boldly assert that it is similar to that obtained -with an alder-leaf. -</p> -<p>Change the food and the climate, change the materials to be worked: if it can adapt -itself to the new conditions imposed upon it, the insect persists, immutable in its -craft, habits and organization; if it cannot, it dies. To be as one was or not to -be: that is what the castaway of the torrent, like so many others, tells us. -</p> -<p>Let us watch her at work on the alder and we shall know how she labours on the hazel-bush. -The Apoderus does not know the method of the Rhynchites, who, to kill the elasticity -of the leaf to be rolled, makes a deep puncture in the stalk. The red leaf-roller -has a special <i lang="la">modus operandi</i>, in no way related to that of the puncture. -</p> -<p>Can this change of method be due to the absence of the rostrum, of the fine awl capable -of being driven into the narrow leaf-stalk? It is possible, but not certain, for the -snout, an excellent pair of shears, could cut half through the leaf-stalk at a bite -and obtain an equivalent result. I prefer to see in the novel procedure one of those -methods which are the separate property of every specialist. We must never judge of -the work by the tool employed. The insect is an adept at using any sort of implement, -even though defective. -</p> -<p>The fact is that with her mandibles the Apoderus slashes the alder-leaf cross-wise, -at some distance <span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span>from the base. The whole leaf is cut clean through, including even the central vein. -The only part left intact is the extreme edge, from which the large severed area hangs -withering. -</p> -<p>This area, the greater part of the leaf, is then folded in two along the principal -vein, with the green or upper surface inside; then, starting from the tip, the folded -sheet is rolled into a cylinder. The orifice above is closed with that part of the -border which the cut has left untouched; the orifice below is closed with the edges -of the leaf tucked inwards. -</p> -<p>The pretty little barrel hangs perpendicularly, swaying to the least breeze. It is -hooped by the median vein, which projects at the upper end. Between the second and -third pages, as it were, of the double sheet, near the middle of the spiral, is the -egg, resin-red and, this time, single. -</p> -<p>The few cylinders which I have been able to examine afford me no circumstantial details -touching the development of their inmate. The most interesting fact which I learn -from them is that the grub, when it has attained its full growth, does not go underground -as the others do. It remains in its barrel, which the wind soon shakes down into the -grass. That half-decayed shelter would be very unsafe in bad weather. The red Weevil -knows this. She hastens to assume her adult form, to don her scarlet cloak; and by -the beginning of summer she abandons her cylinder, <span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span>now a mere wreck. She will find a better refuge under the loose strips of old bark. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Attelabus curculionoides</i> is no less expert in the art of making a keg out of a leaf. There is one curious -point of resemblance: the new cooper is red, like the other, or, more accurately speaking, -crimson. The rostrum is very short and expanded into a snout. Here the likeness ceases. -Our first friend is rather fine-drawn and loose-limbed; the second is a thickset, -round, dumpy Weevil. We are quite surprised by her work, which seems incompatible -with the worker’s awkward, clumsy build. -</p> -<p>And she does not work a docile stuff either: she rolls ilex-leaves, young ones, it -is true, not yet too stiff. It is a tough material all the same, difficult to bend -and slow in fading. Of the four leaf-rollers of my acquaintance, the smallest, the -Attelabus, has the hardest lot; nevertheless, it is she, the dwarf, such a bungler -in appearance, who by dint of patience builds the prettiest house. -</p> -<p>At other times she exploits the common oak, the English oak, whose leaves are broader -and more deeply indented than those of the ilex, or holm-oak. On the spring shoots -she selects the topmost leaves, of average size and medium consistency. If the position -suit her, five, six or more little kegs will be dangling from the same twig. -</p> -<p>Whether it settle on the holm-oak or on the common oak, the insect begins by incising -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>leaf, at some distance from the base, to the right and left of the median vein, while -respecting the vein itself, which will provide a solid attachment. Then the Apoderus’ -method is repeated: the leaf, rendered more tractable by the two incisions, is folded -lengthwise, with the upper surface inside. All these leaf-rollers, cigar-makers and -coopers alike, know how to overcome the resilience of a leaf by means of punctures -or incisions; all are thoroughly versed in that principle of statics according to -which the surface whose elasticity is the greater will be found on the convex aspect -of the curve. -</p> -<p>Between the two sheets which touch, the egg is laid, again one egg. Then the double -leaf is rolled from the tip to the attachment. The indentations, the serrations of -the last fold are sealed down by the patient pressure of the snout; the two mouths -of the cylinder are closed by turning the edges in. It is finished. The barrel is -completed, about two-fifths of an inch long and hooped at its fixed end by the median -vein. It is small but strong and not devoid of elegance. -</p> -<p>The thick-set cooper has her merits, which I should like to elucidate more fully by -watching her at work. What I have contrived to see in the open, in the actual workshop, -amounts to little more than nothing. Many a time do I surprise the Weevil on her cask, -motionless, with her snout against the staves. What is she doing <span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>there? She is sleeping in the sunlight; she is waiting for the last layer of the work -to acquire a firm hold under prolonged pressure. If I examine her too closely, she -at once gathers her legs under her belly and lets herself fall. -</p> -<p>Since my visits tell me hardly anything, I try to rear the insect in domesticity. -The Attelabus lends herself very well to the attempt: she works under my bell-jars -as zealously as on her oak. What I now learn deprives me of all hope of following -the details of the leaf-rolling process: the Attelabus is one of those who work at -night. -</p> -<p>Late in the evening, about nine or ten o’clock, she gives the cuts of the scissors -that slash the leaf; next morning the keg is finished. Seen by the uncertain light -of a lamp and at untimely hours, hours rightly claimed by sleep, the worker’s delicate -technique would escape me. We will give up the idea. -</p> -<p>There is a reason for these nocturnal habits. I think I see what it is. The leaf of -the oak, especially of the holm-oak, is much harder to bend than the leaf of the alder, -the poplar or the vine. If rolled in the daytime, under the burning rays of the sun, -it would add to the difficulties arising from indifferent flexibility those due to -incipient dryness. On the other hand, when visited by the dew, in the coolness of -the night, it will remain pliable; it will yield adequately to the efforts of the -roller; and the barrel will <span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>be ready when the sun comes, with its blazing heat, to steady the shape of the still -moist fabric. -</p> -<p>However different one from the other, the four leaf-rollers have shown us that the -individual craft is not a matter of organic structure, that the tool does not determine -the nature of the work. Whether endowed with a rostrum or a snout, whether long-legged -or slow, slender or thickset, perforators or cutters-out, they all four achieve the -same result, the cylinder that acts as a shelter and a larder for the grub. -</p> -<p>They tell us that instinct has its origin elsewhere than in the organs. It goes farther -back; it is inscribed in the primeval code of life. Far from being dependent on the -tools, it commands them and is able to employ them as it finds them, with the same -skill, for one task here and for another there. -</p> -<p>The little cooper of the oak-tree has not finished with her revelations. Having observed -her pretty frequently, I know how fastidious she is of the quality of her victuals. -If they be dry, she refuses them absolutely, even though it means dying of starvation. -She wants them tender, pickled in moisture, softened by incipient decay, even seasoned -with a touch of mildew. I prepare them to her liking by keeping them in a jar on a -bed of moist sand. -</p> -<p>Thus treated, the grub hatched in June soon increases in size. Two months are enough -to <span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>turn it into a handsome orange-yellow larva, which, when its cell is broken open, -suddenly, with the violence of a spring released, straightens its curved body and -tosses about. Observe its slender form, much less stout than that of the other Weevils -in general. This is the only instance in which lack of corpulence in the larva denotes -an adult of an exceptional class. I shall say no more on the subject of the grub: -its description would be of no particular interest. -</p> -<p>The matter deserves looking into more closely. It is the end of September; we have -been suffering from an extraordinarily hot and dry summer. The dog-days seem determined -to last for ever. The forests are ablaze in the Ardèche, the Bordeaux and the Roussillon -districts; whole villages have been burnt down on the slopes of the Alps; in front -of my door, a careless passer-by, throwing away a match, sets fire to the neighbouring -meadows. You cannot call it a summer: it is a conflagration. -</p> -<p>What can the Attelabus be doing in such disastrous weather? She is thriving comfortably -in my jars, which keep her victuals soft for her; but, at the foot of her oak, amid -the undergrowth shrivelled as though by the breath of a furnace, on the calcined earth, -what becomes of the poor thing? Let us go and see. -</p> -<p>Beneath the oaks which she was exploiting in June, I succeed in finding, among the -dead leaves, <span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span>a dozen of her little barrels. They have retained their green colour, so suddenly -did the desiccation seize them. They crack and crumble into dust under the pressure -of the fingers. -</p> -<p>I open a barrel. In the middle is the grub, looking fit enough, but how small! It -is hardly larger than when it left the egg. Is it dead or alive, this yellow atom? -Its immobility proclaims it to be dead; its unfaded colour proclaims it to be alive. -I break open a second barrel, a third. In the middle there is always a yellow grub, -motionless and quite small, as though newly-born. We will stop at this and keep the -rest of my collection for an experiment that occurs to my mind. -</p> -<p>With their mummy-like immobility, are the grubs really dead? No; for, if I prick them -with the point of a needle, they twitch immediately. Their condition is merely one -of arrested development. In their freshly-rolled sheath, still hanging from the tree -and receiving a little sap, they found the food necessary for their early growth; -then the barrel fell to the ground, where it soon dried up. -</p> -<p>Then, disdaining its hard provender, the grub ceased to eat and grow. Who sleeps dines, -so the proverb says; and it is waiting in a state of torpor for the rain to soften -its bread. -</p> -<p>This rain, for which man and beast have been sighing for four months past, I have -it in my power <span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span>to realize, at least to the limits of a Weevil’s requirements. I float the rest of -the dry barrels in water. When they are thoroughly soaked, I transfer them into a -glass tube, closed at either end with a plug of wet cotton-wool which will keep the -atmosphere moist. -</p> -<p>The result of my stratagems deserves mention. The sleepers awake, eat the inside of -the softened loaf, and make up so well for lost time that in a few weeks they are -as large as those which have not suffered any interruption in my jars half full of -moist earth. -</p> -<p>This knack of suspending life for months at a time, when the provisions have lost -the requisite tenderness, is not repeated in the other leaf-rollers. At the end of -August, three months after the hatching, there is nothing left alive in the cigars -of the vine which have been allowed to dry. Death is even swifter in the withered -cigars of the poplar. As for the cylinders of the alder, in the absence of a sufficient -number of leaves, I was not able to estimate their inhabitants’ powers of endurance. -</p> -<p>Of the four leaf-rollers, the one most threatened by drought is that of the oak. Her -barrel falls and lies on a soil which is extremely arid except at times of rain; moreover, -because of its small dimensions, it dries right through at the first touch of the -sun. -</p> -<p>The ground is equally dry in the vineyard; but there is shade under the branches, -and the <span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>generous cigar is thick enough to retain in its central part, far better than the -slender barrel does, a little of the moisture indispensable to the grub. In respect -of prolonged abstinence, the Vine-weevil cannot be compared with the barrel-maker; -still less can the Poplar-weevil. For this last, more often than otherwise, there -is no danger from drought, despite the smallness of the cylinder, a sorry rat’s-tail. -This roll usually falls by the side of a ditch, on the moist soil of the meadows. -The exploiter of the alder is hardly in danger either: at the foot of her tree, a -lover of the trickling brooks, she finds the coolness needed to keep her food-cylinder -in good condition. But, when she exploits the hazel-bush, I do not know what conditions -help her out of her difficulty. -</p> -<p>Lately the newspapers, which noisily echo every piece of absurdity, have been making -a certain fuss about the gastric feats of a few poor devils who, to earn their bread, -have fasted for thirty or forty days. As in most stunts, admirers were found, ready -to encourage those wretched competitions. -</p> -<p>Now here is something far better, ye snobbish upholders of abstinence! A trivial beastie, -not celebrated by the newspapers, a grub born the day before yesterday, takes a few -mouthfuls; then, finding its victuals too dry, it eats no more for four months or -longer. And this is not the result of sickly languor: the creature fasts in spite -of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>extreme appetite of youth, when, more than ever, the stomach demands a copious diet. -The Rotifer,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1960src" href="#xd31e1960">2</a> which for a whole season lies lifeless and desiccated in the mosses of its home, -begins to whirl round again when placed in a drop of water. The grub of the Attelabus, -lying near to death for four or five months, recovers its liveliness and eats like -a glutton if I moisten its bread for it. What can life be, capable of such intermissions? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1871"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1871src">1</a></span> <i lang="la">H. pomatia</i> is the Large Edible Snail.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1871src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1960"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1960src">2</a></span> Or Wheel Animalcule.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1960src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e345">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter x</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE SLOE-WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">No less skilled than the Vine- and Poplar-weevils in the art of leaf-rolling, the -Attelabus and the Apoderus have shown us that, in spite of a dissimilar equipment, -the industry may remain the same; they have proved that similarity of aptitude is -compatible with diversity of organization. Conversely, different trades may be followed -with the same tools; identity of form does not imply equivalence of instinct. -</p> -<p>Who tells us this? Who puts forward this subversive proposition? The Sloe-weevil (<i lang="la">Rhynchites auratus</i>, <span class="sc">Scop.</span>) has the audacity to do so. -</p> -<p>Rivalling the exploiters of the vine and poplar in metallic lustre, she possesses, -exactly as they do, a curved awl which one would say was meant for puncturing the -stalk of a leaf and then fastening the edges of the rolled portion; her figure is -short and squat, adapted, so it seems to me, to working in the narrow crease of a -fold; she has spiked sandals which give her a firm hold on slippery surfaces. Any -one acquainted with the cigar-makers has but to see her to call her straightway by -the same generic name. The nomenclators <span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>have made no mistake; they are unanimous in styling her a Rhynchites. Judging the -trade by the worker’s looks, we do not hesitate: we set down this third Rhynchites -as a rival of the others, we class her in the leaf-rollers’ guild. -</p> -<p>Well, in this case, we are thoroughly deceived by outward appearances; we are taken -in by an identity of structure. In her habits, the Rhynchites of the Sloe has nothing -in common with the two with whom she is associated by her classification, which is -based solely on the peculiarities of her form. What is more, until she is seen at -work, no one would suspect her calling. She exploits the fruit of the sloe exclusively; -her grub’s ration is the tiny kernel and its lodging the small stone of the sloe. -</p> -<p>So, unskilled in the trade of her fellows, without any change in her tools, the kinswoman -of the cigar-makers becomes a driller of caskets; with the same bodkin that serves -her relatives for fastening the last layer of a leaf-roll, she hollows a little cup -in the surface of a shell hard as ivory. The tool that is able to roll a flexible -sheet now wears away the invincible and works like a digger’s pick-axe. And stranger -still: when it has finished its arduous piece of carving, it sets up above the egg -a little miracle whose exquisite delicacy we shall have occasion to admire. -</p> -<p>The grub amazes me no less. It changes its diet. When a denizen of the vine and the -poplar, <span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>it eats a leaf; when a denizen of the sloe, it takes to starchy food. It changes its -means of liberation. When they have attained their full growth and the moment comes -for them to go underground, the first two have nothing in front of them but a yielding -obstacle, the surface layer of the leafy sheath, softened and wasted by decay; the -third, like the Nut-weevil, has to pierce a wall of exceptional strength. -</p> -<p>What singular contrasts might we not discover in facts of this kind, if we were better-acquainted -with the habits of the Rhynchites group? A fourth example is familiar to me (<i lang="la">R. Bacchus</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>). Identical in shape with the manufacturers of cigars and the exploiters of fruit-stones, -worthy, indeed, in all respects of the name of Rhynchites, what does this Weevil do? -Does she roll leaves? No. Does she install her grub in the casket of a kernel? No. -</p> -<p>Her trade is a very simple one, for her method is confined to inserting her eggs, -here, there and everywhere, in the still green flesh of the apricot. Here there is -no difficulty to overcome, and consequently no art to be displayed by either mother -or grub. The rostrum sinks into a material which offers but a slight resistance; the -egg is let down to the bottom of the wound; and that is all. The establishment of -the family is a most summary proceeding; it reminds us of the practice of the Larini. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span></p> -<p>The grub, for its part, has no need for talents of any sort. What would it do with -them? It feeds on the pulp of the fruit, which soon falls to the ground and is reduced -to a jelly. Life is easy in these liquescent surroundings; the infant is bathed in -fermenting pap. When the time comes for it to take refuge in the subsoil, the jam-sodden -grub has no veil to tear, no wall to break through: the flesh of the apricot has become -a pinch of brown dust. -</p> -<p>In the old days, the Anthidia,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2004src" href="#xd31e2004">1</a> partly weavers of cotton, partly kneaders of resin, set me a difficult problem. Later -came the Dung-beetles of the pampas, the Phanæi,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2010src" href="#xd31e2010">2</a> some preparing, as preserved foodstuff, cakes of Cow-dung modelled in the shape of -a pear, others sausage-meat kept fresh in clay jars. Both suggested the same difficulty: -can habits and industries which have no mutual connection be explained as soon as -we accept a common origin for these different manufacturers, who moreover are so much -alike in conformation? The question crops up again, more urgently, with the four Rhynchites. -</p> -<p>That the influence of environment may, to some extent, have caused external modifications; -that the light may have accentuated the colouring; that <span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span>the quantity of the food may have brought about some small variation in size; that -a warm or cold climate may have thinned or thickened the fur: all these changes and -many others besides I willingly concede, if that will give any one any pleasure; but, -for pity’s sake, let us take higher ground than this, do not let us reduce the world -of the living to a collection of digestive tubes, an assortment of bellies that fill -and empty themselves. -</p> -<p>Let us reflect upon the masterly touch that sets the whole animal machine in motion; -let us question the instincts, the controllers of form; let us remember that glorious -expression of the ancients, <i lang="la">mens agitat molem</i>; and we shall understand the inextricable difficulty that besets the theorists when -they wish to explain how it is that of four insects, as much alike in shape as so -many drops of water, two roll leaves, another carves fruit-stones, and the fourth -profits by the pulp of a rotten fruit. -</p> -<p>If they are affiliated to one another, if they are indeed related, as their so strongly-marked -family-resemblance would seem to affirm, which of them was the first of the line? -Could it be the leaf-roller? -</p> -<p>No one, unless he be content with idle fancies, will admit that the cigar-roller can -have tired of her cylinder one day and proceeded, as a crazy innovator, to make a -hole in the casket of a fruit-stone. Such dissimilar industries do not suggest <span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>mutual connection. The first leaf-rollers, never knowing any lack of leaves, may perhaps -have gone from one tree to others more or less like it; but to give up the art of -leaf-rolling, so easy to acquire, and to become, when nothing compelled them to, strenuous -nibblers of hard wood: that would have been idiotic. No acceptable reason would explain -the desertion of the original trade. Such follies are unknown in the insect world. -</p> -<p>The exploiter of the sloe refuses in her turn to acknowledge herself as inspiring -the cigar-maker: -</p> -<p>‘What, I!’ she says, ‘I, give up my little blue plum, so savoury in its tartness! -I, a chaser of goblets, abandon my chisel and, in a moment of madness, become a folder -of leaves! What do you take me for? My grub dotes on the floury kernel; confronted -with any other fare, above all with the meagre, tasteless roll of my colleague of -the poplar, it would let itself die of hunger. So long as sloes or kindred fruits -have existed, my race, thriving upon them, has never committed the folly of forsaking -them in favour of a leaf. So long as they exist, we shall remain faithful to them; -and, if ever they fail us, we shall perish to the last grub.’ -</p> -<p>The lover of the apricot is no less positive. She, who is so easy to establish in -soft pulp, has taken good care not to advise her children to undertake the laborious -task of perforating a shell or rolling a leaf into a cigar. According to <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>the locality and the abundance of the fruit, her boldest innovation has been to pass -from the apricot to the plum, the peach, or even the cherry. But how are we to admit -that these lovers of fruit-pulp, well satisfied with their rich living, which has -always been possible, in the old days and to-day alike, can ever have risked leaving -the soft for the hard, the juicy for the dry, the easy for the difficult? -</p> -<p>None of these four is the head of the line. Is the common ancestor then an unknown -species, dumped down, perhaps, in the schist-foliations whose venerable archives we -began by consulting? Even if he were there, we should be none the wiser. The library -of the stones preserves the forms but not the instincts; it says nothing of industries, -because, let us repeat and again repeat, the insect’s tool tells us nothing of its -trade. With the same rostrum the Weevil may follow very different callings. -</p> -<p>What the ancestor of the Rhynchites did we do not know and have no hope of ever knowing. -The theorists, therefore, take their stand only on the vague and slippery ground of -suppositions: -</p> -<p>‘Let us admit,’ they say, ‘let us imagine that … it might be that …’ and so forth. -</p> -<p>My dearly-beloved theorists, this is a most convenient means of arriving at any conclusion -we like. With a bunch of nicely-selected hypotheses, I will undertake, though no subtle -logician, to <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>prove to you that white is black and that darkness is light. -</p> -<p>I am too fond of tangible, indisputable truths; I will not follow you in your sophistical -suppositions. I want genuine facts, well-observed, scrupulously-tested facts. Now -what can you tell us of the genesis of the instincts? Nothing and again nothing and -always nothing. -</p> -<p>You think that you have raised a monument of Cyclopæan blocks, and all that you have -built is a house of cards which tumbles to pieces before the breath of reality. The -real Rhynchites—not the imaginary one, but the insect which any one can observe and -question at will—ventures to tell you so, in her artless sincerity. -</p> -<p>She tells you: -</p> -<p>‘My manufactures, which are so contrary, cannot be derived one from another. Our talents -are not the legacy of a common ancestress, for, to leave us such a heritage, the original -initiator would have had to be versed at one and the same time in arts which are mutually -incompatible: that of leaf-rolling, that of piercing fruit-stones and that of jam-making, -to say nothing of the rest, which you don’t yet know. If she was not capable of doing -everything, she must, at least, in course of time, have given up a first trade and -learnt a second, then a third, then a host of others, the knowledge of which is reserved -for future observers. Well, to practise several industries at the same time, or <span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>even, from specializing in one department, to begin specializing in some other, quite -different department: on my word as a Rhynchites, all this would seem madness to an -animal.’ -</p> -<p>Thus speaks the Weevil. Let me complete her statement. As the instincts of the three -industrial guilds whose history is here related cannot in any way be referred to a -common origin, the corresponding Rhynchites, despite their extreme similarity of structure, -cannot be ramifications of the same stock. Each race is an independent medal, struck -from a special die in the workshop of forms and aptitudes. What will it be then when -dissimilarity of form is added to dissimilarity of instincts? -</p> -<p>But enough of philosophizing. Let us make the closer acquaintance of the Sloe-weevil. -At the end of July, fattened to a nicety, the grub leaves its plum-stone and descends -into the ground. With its back and forehead it presses back the surrounding dust and -makes itself a spherical recess, slightly reinforced with a glue furnished by the -builder, to prevent the earth from falling in. Similar preparations for nymphosis -and hibernation are made by the Vine-weevil and the Poplar-weevil; but these are more -forward in their development. Before September is over, most of them have achieved -the adult form. I see them glittering in the sand of my jars like living nuggets. -These golden globules foresee the rapidly approaching winter: <span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>as a rule they do not stir from their underground quarters. However, enticed by the -hot sunlight, the last of the year, a few Poplar-weevils come up into the open air -to see what the weather is like. At the first breath of the north-wind, these venturesome -ones will take refuge under the strips of dead bark; perhaps they will even perish. -</p> -<p>The guest of the sloe is not in such a hurry. Autumn is drawing to a close; and my -buried captives are still in the larval state. What matters this delay? They will -all be ready when the beloved bush is covered with blossom. By May, in point of fact, -the insect abounds on the sloes. -</p> -<p>This is the time of careless revelry. The fruit is still too small, with its stone -not set and its kernel a transparent jelly; it would not suit the grub, but it makes -a feast for the adult, who, with an imperceptible movement, without any twisting of -the boring-tool, sinks her drill into the pulp, drives it half-way down, holds it -there motionless and drinks ecstatically. The juice of the sloe pours over the edge -of the well. -</p> -<p>This affection for the sour sloe is not exclusive. In my breeding-jars, even when -the regulation fruit is there, <i lang="la">Rhynchites auratus</i> very readily accepts the green cherry and also the orchard plum, as yet hardly the -size of an olive. She refuses absolutely, though they are as round and as small as -sloes, the fruits of the mahaleb cherry, or Sainte-Lucie cherry, a wilding frequent -in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>thickets of the neighbourhood. She finds their drug-like flavour repellent. -</p> -<p>When the egg is at stake, I cannot induce the mother to accept the cultivated plum. -In time of dearth, the ordinary cherry seems to be less repugnant. Whereas the mother’s -stomach is satisfied with any sort of astringent pulp, the grub’s clamours for a sweet -kernel in a small casket which does not offer too much resistance. That of the cherry, -seasoned with prussic acid and rather bitter, is accepted only with hesitation; that -of the plum, contained in a stone whose strong walls would oppose too great an obstacle -first to the entry and then to the exit of the grub, is absolutely disdained. Therefore -the pregnant mother, thoroughly versed in her household affairs, refuses for her family -any stone fruit other than the sloe. -</p> -<p>Let us watch her at work. During the first fortnight of June, the egg-laying is in -full swing. At this period the sloes begin to assume a purple hue. They are hard, -about as large as a pea, which is not far from their final size. The stone is woody -and resists the knife; the kernel has acquired consistency. -</p> -<p>The fruits attacked show two kinds of pit, turned brown by the decayed tissues. Some, -the more numerous, are shallow funnels nearly always filled up with a drop of hardened -gum. At these points the insect has simply made a meal and has not gone deeper than -about half the thickness of <span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>the pulpy layer. Later, the exudations from the wound have filled the cavity with -a gummy plug. -</p> -<p>The other cavities, which are wider and form irregular polygons, penetrate to the -stone. The opening measures nearly four millimetres;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2074src" href="#xd31e2074">3</a> and the walls, instead of slanting like those of the food-pits, rise vertically from -the exposed stone. Let us note yet another detail whose importance we shall see presently: -it is rare to find any gum in them, though the other cavities usually contain it. -These pits, which are free from obstruction, are family establishments. I count two, -three, four on the same sloe; sometimes only one. Very often they are accompanied, -where the Weevil has fed, by funnel-shaped surface erosions. -</p> -<p>The larger pits descending to the stone form a sort of irregular crater, in the centre -of which there is always a little cone of brown pulp. Not infrequently the magnifying-glass -reveals a fine perforation at the top of this central cone; at other times the orifice -is closed, but in a careless fashion, which makes one suspect a connection with the -depths below. -</p> -<p>Cut this cone down the axis. At its base is a tiny hemispherical cup hollowed in the -thickness of the stone. Here, on a bed of fine dust due to the work of erosion, lies -a yellow egg, oval and about a millimetre<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2081src" href="#xd31e2081">4</a> long. Above the egg, like a <span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>protecting roof, rises the cone of brown pulp, pierced throughout its length by a -fine channel, which is sometimes free and sometimes half obstructed. -</p> -<p>The structure of the work tells us how the operation is conducted. In the fleshy layer -of the sloe the mother, eating the substance, or discarding it if there be more than -her appetite calls for, first makes a pit with perpendicular walls and lays a suitable -surface of the stone absolutely bare. Then, in the centre of this area, she chases -with her graver a little cup sinking half-way through the thickness of the shell. -Here, on a soft bed of raspings, the egg is laid. Lastly, as a defensive device, the -mother erects above the cup and its contents a pointed roof, a cone of pulp obtained -from the walls of the pit. -</p> -<p>The insect works very well in captivity, if given plenty of space, sunlight and a -twig covered with sloes. It is easy to watch the proceedings of the egg-laying mother; -but the result of diligent observation amounts to very little. -</p> -<p>Almost the whole day, the mother remains clinging to one spot on the fruit, motionless, -with her rostrum driven into the pulp. As a rule, there is no movement on her part, -nothing to betray any effort. -</p> -<p>From time to time a male visits her, climbs on her back, throws his legs around her -and, himself swaying from side to side, rocks her very <span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>gently to and fro. Without permitting herself to be diverted from her serious labours, -the female thus embraced passively yields to the rolling motion. Perhaps it is a means -of whiling away the long hours needed for establishing an egg. -</p> -<p>To see more than this is very difficult. The rostrum does its work in the hidden seclusion -of the pulp and, as the pit opens and widens, the digger covers it with the fore-part -of her body. The hollow is ready. The mother withdraws and turns round. For a moment -I catch a glimpse of the bare stone at the bottom of the crater, with a tiny cup in -the centre of the denuded area. As soon as the egg is laid in this cup, the insect -turns round again and nothing more is visible until the work is completed. -</p> -<p>How does the pregnant mother contrive to raise above the egg a protective heap, a -cone, an obelisk somewhat irregular in shape, but very curious with its narrow ventilating-shaft? -Above all, how does she manage to make this communicating passage in the soft mass? -These are details which we can scarcely hope to detect, so discreetly does the insect -work. We must be content to know that the rostrum alone, without the aid of the legs, -digs the crater and erects the central cone. -</p> -<p>In the heat of June, less than a week is enough for the hatching. By good fortune, -solicited, so far as that goes, by attempts that come near to exhausting my small -stock of patience, I witness <span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>an interesting sight. I have a new-born grub before my eyes. It has just cast the -skin of the egg; it is very busily wriggling in its powdery cup. Why so much excitement? -For this reason: to reach the kernel, its ration, the tiny creature has to finish -the pit and turn it into an entrance-window. -</p> -<p>A stupendous task for a speck of albumen. But this feeble speck boasts a set of carpenter’s -tools; its mandibles, a pair of fine chisels, received the necessary temper while -their owner was still in the egg. The grub sets to work immediately. By the following -day, through a tiny aperture which would hardly admit the point of a fair-sized needle, -it has entered into the promised land and is in possession of the kernel. -</p> -<p>Another stroke of luck partly tells me the use of the central cone pierced chimney-fashion. -The mother, while sinking the pit in the flesh of the sloe, drinks the juices that -ooze out and eats the pulp. This is the most direct manner of getting rid of the refuse -without interrupting her work. When she is digging in the surface of the stone, the -cup intended to receive the egg, she leaves in place the fine dust resulting from -her labours, an excellent material as bedding for the egg but useless as food. -</p> -<p>And what does the maggot in its turn do with its sawdust as it deepens the pit in -order to reach the kernel? To scatter the rubbish round about is impossible: there -is no room; to put it away <span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span>in its stomach is even less feasible: it cannot make its first mouthfuls of this dry -flour while waiting for the milk-food of a kernel. -</p> -<p>The new-born grub has a better method. With a few heaves of its back, it thrusts the -litter of rubbish outside, through the chimney in the cone. I have indeed caught sight -of a white, powdery speck at the top of the central cone. This tunnelled cone therefore -is a lift which carries away the rubbish of the excavation. -</p> -<p>But the use of the curious building cannot be limited to this: the ever-thrifty insect -has not gone to the pains of building a tall, hollow obelisk with the sole object -of preparing a thoroughfare for the atoms of dust that hamper the grub in its labours. -The same result could be obtained with less trouble; and the Weevil is too sensible -to construct the complex when the single would suffice. Let us look at things more -closely. -</p> -<p>Evidently the egg, laid in a cup on the surface of the stone, needs a protecting roof. -Moreover, the grub, which will presently be working at the bottom of its cup to reach -the kernel, will require a refuse-shoot in its restricted quarters. A small, shallow -dome, with a window to get rid of the sweepings, would, it seems, fulfil all the requisite -conditions. Then why the luxury of this pyramidal chimney which rises to the topmost -level of the pit, as a cone in eruption rises in the centre of a volcanic crater? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span></p> -<p>The craters in the sloes have their lava, that is, their flow of gum, which trickles -from the various points injured and then hardens into blocks. This flood stops up -every hole at which the insect has merely fed. The large pits with the central cones, -on the other hand, have no gum or show only a few scanty drops of it on their walls. -</p> -<p>The mother, it is obvious, has taken certain precautions to defend the home of the -egg against the inroads of the gum. In the first place, she has enlarged the cavity -to keep the egg at a due distance from the treacherous wall oozing with viscidity; -she has moreover dug the pulp down to the stone and has thoroughly stripped a perfectly -clean surface from which nothing dangerous can now exude. -</p> -<p>This is not yet enough: though distant and rising perpendicularly from the stripped -area, the walls of the pit still give cause for alarm. In some sloes under certain -conditions, they will perhaps yield a superabundance of gum. The only means of averting -the danger is to raise above the egg a barricade as high as the brink of the crater -and capable of arresting the flow. This is the reason for the central cone. If there -is a copious eruption, the gum will fill the ringed space, but at least it will not -cover the spot where the egg lies. The tall, insubmersible obelisk is therefore almost -ingeniously-contrived defensive structure. -</p> -<p>This obelisk is hollow along its axis. We have <span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>seen it serving as a lift for the rubbish which the young grub throws out when deepening -its natal basin and converting it into a passage which gives access to the kernel. -But this is a very secondary function; it has another of greater importance. -</p> -<p>Every egg breathes. In its cup with the sawdust mattress, the Weevil’s egg needs a -supply of air, a very moderate supply, no doubt, but it must have some. Through the -passage in its conical roof the air reaches it and is renewed, even if bad luck has -filled the crater with gum. -</p> -<p>Every living creature breathes. The maggot has entered the stone of the fruit by making -an opening such as our finest drills could not equal for precision. It is now in a -sealed casket, an air-tight barrel, tarred, moreover, with gummy pulp. Yet it must -have air, even more than the egg. -</p> -<p>Well, ventilation is effected by the shaft which the grub has driven through the thickness -of the stone. However tiny the air-hole, it is big enough provided it be not clogged. -There is no need to fear anything of the sort, even with an excess of gum. Above the -ventilator rises the defensive cone, continuing, by means of its tunnel, the communication -with the outer world. -</p> -<p>I wanted to know how anchorites more vigorous than the hermit of the sloe would behave -in an exceedingly limited and renewable atmosphere. I must have them in the period -of repose which <span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span>precedes the metamorphosis. The insect has then completed its growth; it is no longer -feeding; it is almost inert. It is living as cheaply as it can and may be compared -with a germinating seed. Its need of air is reduced to the lowest possible limit. -</p> -<p>Indifferent as to choice, I use what I have within reach and first of all the larvæ -of the Brachycerus, the Weevil that feeds on garlic. A week ago they abandoned their -cloves and went down into the earth, where, motionless in their hollows, they are -making ready for the transformation. I place six of them in a glass tube, sealed at -one end by the blow-pipe. I divide them one from the other by means of cork partitions, -so as to allow each a cell comparable in capacity with the natural lodging. Thus stocked, -the tube receives a first-rate cork covered with a layer of sealing-wax. It is absolutely -closed. No gaseous exchanges are possible between the inside and the outside; and -each larva is strictly limited to the small quantity of atmosphere which I have meted -out to it approximately, according to the capacity of the underground cells. -</p> -<p>Similar tubes are prepared, some with Cetonia-grubs taken from the shells in which -they were awaiting metamorphosis and others with nymphs of the same species. What -will become of these various prisoners, whose life is latent, suspended, demanding -a minimum of ventilation? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span></p> -<p>The sight that greets my eyes a fortnight later is conclusive. My tubes contain only -a horrible mess of corpses. Evaporation was impossible; no fresh air came to cleanse -the premises and vivify the larvæ and nymphs; and all have perished, all have become -putrid. -</p> -<p>The casket of the sloe, despite its air-tight condition, is not so close a receptacle -as my glass prisons. Gaseous exchanges are effected, since the kernel, itself a living -body, continues to thrive. But what suffices to maintain the life of a seed must be -insufficient for the much more active life of the insect. The larva of the Weevil, -during the few weeks which it spends nibbling its kernel, would thus be in great jeopardy -if it had no other resources for breathing than the air in the sloe-stone, so limited -in quantity and so scantily renewed. -</p> -<p>Everything seems to prove that if the air-hole, the work of its chisel, were to be -plugged with a drop of gum, the recluse would perish, or at least drag out a languishing -existence and would be incapable of migrating underground at the proper time. This -suspicion is worth confirming. -</p> -<p>I therefore prepare a handful of sloes; I myself bring about what would have happened -naturally but for the mother’s precautions. I deluge the crater and its central cone -with a drop of thick solution of gum arabic. My sticky preparation takes the place -of the product of the sloe-bush. <span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span>The drop hardens; I add others until the top of the cone disappears in the thickness -of the varnish. As for the rest of the fruit, I leave it as it was. -</p> -<p>This done, let us wait, but leave the sloes in the open air, as they are, on the bush. -There the gummy concretions will not grow soft—which would not fail to happen in a -glass jar—merely by means of the moisture supplied by the fruits themselves. -</p> -<p>By the end of July, the sloes left in their natural state give me the first emigrants; -the exodus goes on through part of August. The means of exit is a round hole, very -cleanly cut, similar to that made by the Nut-weevil. Just like the grub of the last-named, -the emigrant passes itself through the draw-plate and releases itself by a feat of -gymnastics in which it dilates the part of the body already extracted with the humours -forced out of the part still imprisoned. -</p> -<p>The exit-door is sometimes one with the narrow entrance; more often it is beside it; -but it is never, absolutely never, outside the bare space that forms the bottom of -the crater. The grub seems to loathe finding the soft pulp of the sloe in front of -its mandibles. Admirably adapted for chiselling hard wood, the tool would perhaps -become clogged in a sticky mess. This needs a spoon to remove it, not a gouge. At -all events, the exit is always made at some point of the floor thoroughly <span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>cleaned by the mother, where there is neither gum nor fleshy pulp to hamper the proper -working of the tool. -</p> -<p>What is happening at the same time with the gummy sloes? Nothing whatever. I wait -a month: nothing yet. I wait two, three, four months: nothing, still nothing. Not -a grub comes out of my prepared sloes. At last, in December, I decide to see what -has been going on inside. I crack the stones whose air-holes I have blocked with gum. -</p> -<p>Most of them contain a dead maggot, which has dried up while quite young. Some hide -a live larva, well developed, but lacking in strength. You can see that the creature -has suffered not from want of food, for the kernel is almost entirely consumed, but -from another unsatisfied need. Lastly, a small number show me a live grub and an exit-hole -made in the regular manner. These lucky ones, immured by the gum perhaps when they -were already full-grown, had the strength to perforate the casket; but, finding on -top of the wood the hateful varnish, which is the result of my perfidy, they obstinately -refused to bore any farther. The gummy barrier stopped them short; and it is not their -habit to seek their freedom in another direction. Away from the bare floor, the bottom -of the crater, they would infallibly come upon the pulp, which is no less detestable -than the gum. In short, of the collection of larvæ <span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>subjected to my stratagems, not one has thriven; the sealing with gum has been fatal -to them. -</p> -<p>This result puts an end to my hesitations: the cone set up in the centre of the pit -is necessary to the existence of the grub sequestered in the stone. Its tunnel is -a ventilating-shaft. -</p> -<p>Each species certainly possesses its peculiar method of maintaining a connection with -the outside world, when the larva lives under conditions in which the renewal of the -air would be too difficult or even impossible if no precautions were taken. Generally, -a fissure, a corridor, more or less unobstructed and the usual work of the grub, is -enough to ventilate the dwelling. Sometimes it is the mother herself who sees to these -hygienic requirements; and then the method employed is strikingly ingenious. While -on this subject, let us recall the wonderful devices of the Dung-beetles. -</p> -<p>The Sacred Beetle models her grub’s loaf in the form of a pear; the Spanish Copris<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2154src" href="#xd31e2154">5</a> shapes it like an egg. It is compact, homogeneous and as air-tight as stucco-work. -To breathe in these lodgings would unquestionably be a very difficult thing; but the -danger is provided against. Look at the small end of the pear and the top of the ovoid. -After ever so little reflection, you will be seized with surprise and admiration. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span></p> -<p>There—and there only—you will see, not the air-tight paste of the rest of the work, -but a stringy plug, a disk of coarse velvet bristling with tiny fibres, a round piece -of loosely-made felt through which the gaseous exchanges can be effected. A filter -takes the place of the solid material. The mere appearance is enough to tell us the -function of this part. If doubts occurred to our minds, here is something to dispel -them: I cover the fibrous expanse with several coats of varnish; I deprive the filter -of its porousness, without interfering with any other part. Now let us see what happens. -When the time comes for the emergence, with the first autumn rains, let us break open -the pills. They contain nothing but shrivelled corpses. -</p> -<p>An egg is killed if you varnish it: when placed under the sitting Hen it remains a -lifeless pebble. The chicken has died in the germ. So perish the Sacred Beetle, the -Copris and the rest when we varnish the circular disk of felt which acts as a ventilator. -</p> -<p>This method of the porous plug is recognized as being so efficacious that it is in -general use among the pill-makers of the remotest regions. The Splendid Phanæus and -<i lang="la">Bolbites onitoides</i>, both from Buenos Aires,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2168src" href="#xd31e2168">6</a> employ it as zealously as the Dung-beetles of Provence. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span></p> -<p>One of the dwellers in the pampas uses another process, prescribed by the material -which she manipulates. This is <i lang="la">Phanæus Milon</i>, a ceramic artist and meat-packer. With very fine clay she fashions a gourd in the -middle of which she places a round meat-pie made from the sanies of a corpse. The -grub for which these victuals are intended hatches in an upper story, separated from -the larder by a clay partition. -</p> -<p>How will this grub breathe, first in its cell upstairs and then in the lower room, -when it has perforated the floor and reached the cold pasty? The house is a piece -of pottery, an earthenware jar whose wall sometimes measures a finger’s-breadth in -thickness. Air cannot possibly pass through such a casing. The mother, who knew this, -made arrangements accordingly. Along the gourd’s neck she contrived a narrow passage -through which a flow of air is possible. Without resorting to obstruction by means -of varnish or anything else, we see quite plainly that this minute tunnel is a ventilating-shaft. -</p> -<p>Exposed on her fruit to the danger from the gum, the Weevil excels the meat-packer -of the pampas in her delicate precautions. Over the spot where the egg lies, she raises -an obelisk, the equivalent of the gourd’s neck in the work of the Phanæus; to give -the germ air, she leaves the axis of the nipple hollow, as does the potter. In either -case, the new-born grub has a tough <span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>job to begin with: in the one it chisels the fruit-stone; in the other it pierces -the earthenware partition. And now both have reached their goal: the first its kernel, -the second its meat-pie. Behind them they have left a round port-hole which continues -the tunnel made by the mother. Thus communication between the inside of the establishment -and the outer atmosphere is assured. -</p> -<p>The comparison cannot be carried farther, so greatly does the ingenuity of the Rhynchites, -in danger of being stifled by the gum, surpass that of the other Beetle, who is perfectly -safe in his clay pot. The Weevil has to reckon with the terrible exudations which -threaten to submerge and stifle her larva. The mother, therefore, in the first place, -builds up the defensive cone, the ventilating-shaft, to a height which the gummy flood -will not reach; then, around this rampart of fruit-pulp, she makes a wide moat which -keeps at a distance the wall sweating the dangerous substance. If the eruption is -too violent, the viscous fluid will collect in the crater without imperilling the -breathing-hole. -</p> -<p>If the Rhynchites and her competitors in means of defence against the dangers of asphyxia -have taught themselves their trade by degrees, by passing from an unsuccessful to -another, more satisfactory method; if they are really the creatures of their achievements, -do not let us hesitate, though we deal a blow to our self-conceit: let us recognize -<span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>them as engineers capable of teaching a lesson to our own graduates; let us acclaim -the microcephalous Weevil as a powerful thinker, a wonderful inventor. -</p> -<p>You dare not go to that length; you prefer to appeal to the hazards of chance. But -what a wretched resource is chance when we are considering such rational contrivances! -As well throw the letters of the alphabet up in the air and expect them to form a -given line of a poem as they fall! -</p> -<p>Instead of bamboozling our minds with such tortuous conceptions, how much simpler, -and above all how much more truthful, to say: -</p> -<p>‘Matter is governed by a sovereign order.’ -</p> -<p>This is what the Sloe-weevil, in her humble way, tells us. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2004"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2004src">1</a></span> For these Cotton-bees and Resin-bees, cf. <i>Bramble-bees and Others</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. ix. and x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2004src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2010"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2010src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>The Glow-worm and Other Beetles</i>: chaps. ix. and x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2010src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2074"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2074src">3</a></span> ·156 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2074src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2081"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2081src">4</a></span> About 1⁄25 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2081src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2154"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2154src">5</a></span> Cf. <i>The Sacred Beetle and Others</i>: chaps. ix. and x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2154src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2168"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2168src">6</a></span> For both these Beetles and also for the next insect mentioned in the text, <i lang="la">Phanæus Milon</i>, cf. <i>The Glow-worm and Other Beetles</i>: chap. ix.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2168src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e353">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xi</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE EGGS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Man holds the pea in high esteem. Ever since the days of antiquity, he has tried, -by devoting greater and greater attention to its cultivation, to make it produce larger, -tenderer, and sweeter varieties. The adaptable plant, gently entreated, has complied -with his desires and has ended by giving us what the gardener’s ambition aimed at -obtaining. How far we moderns have progressed beyond the crop of the Varros<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2207src" href="#xd31e2207">1</a> and Columellas,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2222src" href="#xd31e2222">2</a> how far, above all, beyond the original peas, beyond the wild seeds confided to the -soil by the first man who thought of scraping the earth, maybe with a jaw-bone of -the Cave-bear,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2234src" href="#xd31e2234">3</a> whose mighty canine did duty as a ploughshare! -</p> -<p>Where is this plant, the first source of the pea, <span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>in the world of spontaneous vegetation? Our regions possess nothing like it. Is it -to be found elsewhere? On this point botany is silent, or replies only with vague -probabilities. -</p> -<p>For that matter, the same ignorance prevails on the subject of most of our edible -plants. Whence comes wheat, the blessed grain that gives us bread? No one knows. Except -in the fields tilled by man, you need not look for it in this country. You need not -look for it abroad either. In the East, where agriculture had its birth, no botanist -ever came across the sacred ear increasing of its own accord on ground not broken -by the plough. -</p> -<p>Barley, oats and rye, the turnip and the radish, the beet, the carrot, the pumpkin -leave us in a like uncertainty: their origin is unknown, or at most suspected behind -the impenetrable mist of the ages. Nature delivered them to us in the full vigour -of things untamed, when they were of little value as food, as she nowadays offers -us the wild blackberry and the sloe; she gave them to us in a rudimentary and incomplete -state; and it was for our husbandry and ingenuity patiently to hoard the nutritive -pulp, that earliest form of capital, with dividends always increasing in the most -excellent bank of the tiller of the soil. -</p> -<p>As storehouses of provisions, the cereal and the garden vegetable are, for the most -part, the work of man. The founders of the species, a poor resource in their original -condition, we borrowed <span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span>as we found them from nature’s green treasury; the improved race, rich in nourishing -matter, is the result of our art. -</p> -<p>But, if wheat, peas and the rest are indispensable to us, our care, in fair exchange, -is absolutely necessary to their maintenance. Such as our needs have made them, incapable -of resistance in the savage conflict of living things, these plants, if left to themselves, -without cultivation, would rapidly disappear, despite the numerical immensity of their -seeds, even as the silly Sheep would shortly disappear were there no sheepfolds. -</p> -<p>They are our work, but not always our exclusive property. Wherever food is amassed, -consumers flock from the four corners of the sky; they invite themselves to the copious -feast; and, the richer the victuals, the greater their numbers. Man, who alone is -capable of provoking agrarian luxuriance, becomes by this very fact the giver of an -immense banquet whereat legions of guests take their places. By creating more palatable -and more generous victuals, he willy-nilly summons to his granaries thousands and -thousands of famished creatures against whose teeth his prohibitions battle in vain. -The more he produces, the larger tribute he has to pay. Big crops and sumptuous hoards -favour the insects, our rivals as consumers. -</p> -<p>It is the prevailing law. Nature offers her mighty breast with equal zeal to all her -children, <span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>to those who live by others’ goods no less than to the producers. For us who plough -and sow and reap, wearing ourselves out with toil, she ripens the wheat; she ripens -it also for the little Corn-weevil, who, though exempted from the labour of the fields, -will nevertheless settle in our granaries and with her pointed beak nibble the heap -of corn, grain by grain, to the husk. For us who dig and weed and water, bent with -fatigue and burnt by the heat of the day, nature swells the pea-pods; she swells them -also for the Pea-weevil, who, doing no gardener’s work, will all the same take her -share of the crop at her own time, when the earth is joyful with the new life of spring. -</p> -<p>Let us watch the actions of this zealous tax-collector, who levies her tithes in green -peas. I, a well-meaning rate-payer, will let her have her way: it is precisely for -her benefit that I have sown a few rows of the beloved plant in my enclosure. With -no other invitation from me than this modest seed-plot, she arrives punctually in -the course of May. She has learnt that in this stony soil, unfitted for market-gardening, -peas are flourishing for the first time. And she has hastened thither to exercise -her privileges as an entomological revenue-officer. -</p> -<p>Whence does she come? It is impossible to say exactly. She has come from some refuge -or other where she has spent the winter in a state of torpor. The plane-tree, which -strips itself of its own <span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>initiative during the heat of summer, furnishes excellent shelters for homeless paupers -under its patches of loose-hanging bark. I have often found our Pea-thief in one of -these winter sanctuaries. Sheltered under the dead covering of the plane, or otherwise -protected while the winter raged, she woke from her slumbers at the first kisses of -a kindly sun. The almanac of the instincts has taught her; she knows as well as the -gardener when the peas are in flower, and she comes to her plant more or less from -every direction, ambling at a slow pace, but swift in flight. -</p> -<p>A small head, a slender snout, a dress of ashen grey sprinkled with brown, flat wing-cases, -a squat thick-set figure, with two large black dots on the flat of the tail: there -you have a rough sketch of my visitor. The vanguard arrives by the end of the first -fortnight in May. -</p> -<p>The Weevils settle on the flowers, which are like so many white Butterflies’ wings: -I see some installed at the foot of the upper petal, I see some hidden in the casket -of the keel. Others, more numerous these, explore the blossoms and take possession -of them. The laying-time has not yet come. It is a mild morning; the sun is hot without -being oppressive. This is the moment for nuptial exploits and for raptures amid the -splendour of the light. Life therefore is enjoyed for a little while. Couples form, -soon part and soon come together again. When the heat grows too <span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>great, towards the middle of the day, each Jack and Jill retire into the shade, in -a fold of the flower whose secret recesses they know so well. To-morrow they will -resume the festival and the next day too, until the pod, splitting the sheath of its -keel, appears outside, more and more swollen from day to day. -</p> -<p>A few pregnant mothers, harder-pressed than the rest, confide their eggs to the growing -pod, as it issues flat and tiny from its floral scabbard. These eggs laid prematurely, -pushed out perhaps through the exigencies of an ovary which can wait no longer, seem -to me in serious danger. The seed in which the grub is to make its home is as yet -but a feeble granule, without substance and without floury contents. No Weevil-larva -would ever find an adequate meal there, unless by biding its time until the seed ripened. -</p> -<p>But is the grub, once hatched, capable of long fasting? It is doubtful. The little -that I have seen tells me that the new-born larva begins eating with all speed and, -if it cannot do so, dies. I therefore regard as lost the eggs laid upon immature pods. -The prosperity of the race will hardly suffer, thanks to the Weevil’s fertility. Moreover, -we shall see presently with what reckless prodigality she scatters her germs, most -of which are doomed to perish. -</p> -<p>The bulk of the mother’s work is finished by the end of May, when the pods begin to -bulge <span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>with protuberances revealing the pressure of the peas, which have now attained their -final size, or very nearly. I was anxious to see the Bruchus at work, in her quality -of a Curculio, which is how she is classified.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2274src" href="#xd31e2274">4</a> The other Weevils are Rhynchophoræ, beak-wearers, armed with a rod that prepares -the hollow in which the egg is laid. Our friend possesses only a short snout, which -does capitally for sipping a few sweet mouthfuls, but which is of no value as a boring-tool. -</p> -<p>Therefore the method of installing the family is quite different. Here we see no ingenious -preparations, such as the Balanini, the Larini and the Rhynchites showed us. Having -no probe among her tools, the mother scatters her eggs in the open, with no protection -against the heat of the sun or the inclemencies of the weather. Nothing could be simpler -and nothing more dangerous to the germs, in the absence of a special constitution -made to withstand the alternate trials of heat and cold, drought and wet. -</p> -<p>In the mild sunshine of ten o’clock in the morning, the mother, with a jerky, capricious, -unmethodical step, runs up and down the chosen pod, first on one and then on the other -surface. She protrudes at every instant a short oviscapt, which swings <span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span>right and left as though to scrape the skin. An egg follows and is abandoned as soon -as laid. -</p> -<p>A hasty touch of the oviscapt, first here, then there, on the green skin of the pea-pod; -and that is all. The germ is left there, unprotected, right in the sun. Nor is any -choice of site made, to assist the coming grub and shorten its quest when it has to -make its way unaided into the larder. There are eggs placed on the swellings created -by the peas; there are just as many in the barren dividing valleys. It is for the -grub to take its bearings accordingly. In short, the Bruchus’ eggs are laid anyhow, -as though sown on the wing. -</p> -<p>A more serious flaw: the number of eggs confided to one pod is not in proportion to -that of the peas contained in it. Let us first realize that each grub needs a ration -of one pea, an obligatory ration, amply sufficient for the welfare of one larva, but -not big enough for several consumers, nor even for two. A pea for each grub, no more -and no less, is the invariable rule. -</p> -<p>Procreative economy would therefore demand that the mother, familiar with the pod -which she has just explored, should, when emitting her germs, more or less limit their -number to that of the peas which it contains. Now there is no limit. To a single ration -the impetuous ovaries always offer a multiplicity of consumers. -</p> -<p>My notes are unanimous on this point. The number of eggs laid on a pod always exceeds, -and <span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>often in a scandalous fashion, the number of peas available. However scanty the food-wallet -may be, the guests are superabundant. Dividing the number of eggs perceived on a given -pod by that of the peas inside it, I find from five to eight claimants for each pea; -I find as many as ten; and there is nothing to tell me that the prodigality does not -go farther still. Many are called, but few are chosen! Why all these supernumeraries, -who are necessarily excluded from the banquet for want of space? -</p> -<p>The eggs are a fairly bright amber-yellow, cylindrical in form, smooth and rounded -at both ends. They are a millimetre long at most.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2293src" href="#xd31e2293">5</a> Each of them is fixed to the pod by a thin network of threads of coagulated albumen. -Neither the rain nor the wind can loosen their hold. -</p> -<p>The mother often emits them two at a time, one above the other; often also the uppermost -of the pair succeeds in hatching, whereas the lower fades and perishes. What did this -latter lack, to produce a grub? A sun-bath, perhaps, the gentle incubation of which -the upper egg robs it. Whether through the effect of the untimely screen that overshadows -it, or for some other reason, the elder of the eggs in a group of two rarely follows -the normal course. It withers on the pod, dead before it has come to life. -</p> -<p>There are exceptions to this premature end. <span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span>Sometimes the twin eggs develop equally well; but these instances are so rare that -the family of the Bruchus would be reduced by nearly one-half if the binary system -were a fixed rule. To the detriment of the peas and to the Weevil’s advantage there -is one thing that lessens this destructive factor: the eggs are laid one by one and -in separate places. -</p> -<p>A recent hatching is marked by a whitish, winding little ribbon, which raises and -fades the skin of the pod near the sloughed egg-shell. It is the work of the new-born -larva and is a subcutaneous tunnel along which the tiny creature wends its way in -search of a point through which to penetrate. When it has found this spot, the grub, -measuring hardly a millimetre and pale-bodied, with a black cap, pierces the outer -wrapper and dives into the capacious sheath of the pod. -</p> -<p>It reaches the peas and perches on the nearest. I watch it through the magnifying-glass, -exploring its globe, its world. It sinks a well at right angles to the sphere. I see -some which, half-way down, wriggle their tails to stimulate their efforts. After a -short spell of work, the miner disappears and is at home. -</p> -<p>The entrance-hole is minute, but is easily recognized at any time by its brown colouring -against the pale-green or yellow-green background of the pea. It has no fixed site; -we see it more or less anywhere on the surface of the pea, excepting <span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>generally on the lower half, that is to say, the hemisphere whose pole is formed by -the base of the funicular cord. -</p> -<p>It is precisely in this part that the germ is found which will not be consumed and -will remain capable of developing into an embryo plant, in spite of the large hole -made by the adult insect in leaving. Why is this portion left unscathed? What are -the reasons that safeguard the germ of the exploited seed? -</p> -<p>It goes without saying that the Bruchus does not consider the gardener. The pea is -meant for it and none other. In refusing to take the few bites which would entail -the death of the seed, it has no intention of reducing the damage. It abstains from -other motives. -</p> -<p>Remark that the peas touch at the sides, where they are pressed one against the other. -The grub seeking the point of attack cannot move about at its ease. Remark also that -the lower pole rests upon the umbilical excrescence and opposes to any attempt at -boring difficulties which do not exist in the parts protected by the skin alone. It -is even possible that this umbilicus, which is differently organized, contains special -juices distasteful to the little larva. -</p> -<p>This, beyond a doubt, is the secret of the peas exploited by the Bruchus and yet remaining -fit to sprout. They are injured but not dead, because they are invaded in the free -hemisphere, <span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>the part which is at the same time easier to enter and less easy to wound. Moreover, -as the whole pea is too much for a single grub, the loss of substance is reduced to -the piece preferred by the consumer; and this piece is not the essential part of the -pea. -</p> -<p>Given other conditions, with seeds either very small or exceedingly large, we should -see the results changing entirely. In the first case, the germ would be gnawed like -the remainder and would perish by the tooth of the too niggardly served grub; in the -second case, the abundant food would allow of several guests. The common vetch and -the broad bean, exploited in the absence of the pea, tell us something in this connection; -the smaller seed, devoured all but the skin, is a ruin whose germination we may expect -in vain; the larger, on the contrary, despite the Weevil’s numerous cells, is still -capable of sprouting. -</p> -<p>Admitting that the number of eggs on the pod is always much greater than that of the -peas contained, and that, on the other hand, each pea is the exclusive property of -one grub, we wonder what becomes of the surplus. Do these larvæ perish outside, when -the more precocious have taken their places one by one in the leguminous larder? Do -they succumb to the intolerant teeth of the early occupants? They do neither. Let -us set forth the facts. -</p> -<p>On all old peas, now dry, from which the adult <span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span>Weevil has issued, leaving a gaping hole, the magnifying-glass reveals a varying number -of fine, reddish-brown dots, perforated at the centre. What are these spots, of which -I count five or six or even more on a single pea? There is no mistake possible: they -are the entrance-points of so many grubs. Several workers have therefore penetrated -into the seed; and of the whole gang only one has survived, waxed big and fat and -attained the adult age. And the others? We shall see. -</p> -<p>At the end of May and in June, during the laying-season, inspect the still green and -tender peas. Nearly all the seeds invaded show us the multiple dots which we already -observed on the dry peas abandoned by the Weevils. Does this actually mean an assembly -of guests? Yes. Skin the aforesaid seeds, separate the seed-lobes, subdivide them -if necessary. We discover several larvæ, very young, bent into a bow, fat and wriggling, -each in a little round hollow in the heart of the victuals. -</p> -<p>Peace and comfort seem to reign in the community. There is no quarrelling, no jealous -competition among neighbours. The eating has begun, provisions are plentiful and the -banqueters are separated from one another by partitions formed by the as yet untouched -portions of the seed-lobes. With this isolation in separate cells, there is no fear -of squabbles; the guests will not bite one another, by accident or intention. All -the occupants <span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>enjoy the same rights of property, the same appetite and the same strength. What will -be the end of the communal working? -</p> -<p>I split some peas which I have found to be well-stocked and place them in a glass -tube. I add others daily. This method keeps me informed of the boarders’ progress. -At first there is nothing special. Isolated in its narrow recess, each grub nibbles -around itself and eats frugally and peacefully. It is still quite small; a speck of -food surfeits it. Nevertheless, a dish consisting of one pea cannot satisfy so large -a number until the end. Famine threatens; all save one must die. -</p> -<p>Soon indeed the aspect of things changes. One of the grubs, the one occupying the -central position in the pea, grows faster than the others. He has hardly begun to -be larger than his competitors when these cease to eat and refrain from digging any -farther. They lie motionless and resigned; they die the gentle death which reaps unconscious -lives. They disappear, wasted away to nothing. They were so tiny, the poor victims! -Henceforth the whole pea belongs to the sole survivor. But what has happened, to produce -this desolation around the privileged one? For lack of a relevant answer, I will propound -a suggestion. -</p> -<p>In the centre of the pea, more gently stewed than the rest by the sun’s chemistry, -may there not be an infant-pap, a pulp of a quality better-suited to the delicate -organs of a grub? Here <span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>perhaps, stimulated by tender, highly flavoured and sweeter food, the stomach becomes -more vigorous and fit to cope with food less easily digested. A baby is fed on milk -before it receives the basin of broth and the bread of the able-bodied. Might not -the central portion of the pea be the Weevil-grub’s feeding-bottle? -</p> -<p>Fired by one ambition and endowed with equal rights, all the occupants of the seed -set out towards the delicious morsel. It is a laborious journey; and frequent halts -are made in temporary recesses. The grubs rest; pending better things to come, they -frugally crunch the ripe substance around them; they gnaw even more to open a way -than to fill their stomachs. -</p> -<p>At last one of the excavators, favoured by the direction taken, reaches the central -dairy. It settles there and the thing is done: there is nothing for the rest but to -die. How do they come to know that the place is taken? Do they hear their kinsman’s -mandibles striking against the wall of his cell? Can they feel the vibration of the -nibbling at a distance? Something of the sort must happen, for from that moment they -cease their attempts to burrow any farther. Without struggling with the lucky winner, -without seeking to dislodge him, those beaten in the race allow themselves to die. -I like this frank resignation on the part of the late arrivals. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2207"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2207src">1</a></span> Marcus Terentius Varro (<span class="asc">B.C.</span> 116–<i>circa</i> <span class="asc">B.C.</span> 27), a famous Roman scholar, author of <i lang="la">De Re Rustica</i> and for some time director of the public library.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2207src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2222"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2222src">2</a></span> Lucius Junius Moderatus Columella (<i>fl.</i> 1st century <span class="asc">A.D.</span>), author of a work, <i lang="la">De Re Rustica</i>, bearing the same title as Varro’s.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2222src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2234"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2234src">3</a></span> A very large, prehistoric Bear (<i lang="la">Ursus spelæus</i>) whose remains are common in European caves, including those of England.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2234src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2274"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2274src">4</a></span> The modern classification places the Pea- and Haricot-weevils in a separate family, -the Bruchidæ, whereas the family of the Curculionidæ includes most of the other, or -true, Weevils.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2274src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2293"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2293src">5</a></span> 1⁄25 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2293src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e361">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PEA-WEEVIL: THE LARVA</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Another condition, that of space, is present as a factor. The Pea-weevil is the largest -of our Bruchi. When she attains the adult age she requires a bigger lodging than is -demanded by the other seed-destroyers. A pea provides her with a very adequate cell; -nevertheless, cohabitation in twos would be impossible: there would be no room, even -if the occupants accepted the discomfort. And so the inexorable need returns for reducing -the numbers and, in the seed invaded, doing away with all the competitors save one. -</p> -<p>On the other hand, the broad bean, which is almost as great a favourite of the Bruchus -as the pea, is able to house a whole community. The grub that was but now a solitary -becomes a cenobite. There is room for five or six more, without encroaching on the -neighbours’ domain. Moreover, each grub finds infant-food within its reach, that is -to say, the layer which, being at some distance from the surface, hardens slowly and -retains the dainty juices for a greater length of time. This inner layer may be regarded -as the crumb of an otherwise crusty loaf. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span></p> -<p>In the pea, which is a small sphere, it occupies the central part, a limited area -which the grub has to reach or perish; in the bean, a generous muffin, it includes -the large joint of the two flat seed-lobes. No matter where the big seed is tackled, -each larva need but bore straight ahead and it quickly reaches the coveted food. -</p> -<p>Then what happens? I add up the eggs adhering to a bean-pod, I count the seeds inside, -and on comparing the two totals, I find that there is plenty of room for the whole -family, at the rate of five or six to each bean. Here we have no surplus larvæ dying -of starvation almost as soon as they leave the egg: all have their share of the ample -portion, all live and prosper. The abundance of the provisions counterbalances the -mother’s extravagance. -</p> -<p>If the Bruchus always adopted the broad bean as the establishment of her family, I -could very well explain her exuberant emission of germs on a single pod: a rich supply -of food, easily acquired, invites a large colony. The pea, on the other hand, puzzles -me. What vagary makes the mother abandon her offspring to starvation on this insufficient -legumen? Why so many boarders gathered around a seed which forms the ration of one -alone? -</p> -<p>It is not thus that matters are arranged in life’s general balance-sheet. A certain -foresight rules the ovaries and makes them adjust the number of <span class="pageNum" id="pb201">[<a href="#pb201">201</a>]</span>eaters to the abundance or scarcity of the thing eaten. The Sacred Beetle, the Sphex-wasp, -the Burying-beetle and the other manufacturers of preserved provisions for the family -set close limits to their fertility, because the soft loaves of their baking, the -baskets containing their game and the contents of their sepulchral retting-vat are -all obtained at the cost of laborious and often unproductive efforts. -</p> -<p>The Bluebottle, on the contrary, heaps her eggs in bundles. Trusting in the inexhaustible -wealth of a corpse, she lavishes her maggots without counting the number. At other -times, the provision is obtained by crafty brigandage, exposing the new-born offspring -to a thousand fatal accidents. Then the mother makes up for the chances of destruction -by an excessive outpouring of eggs. This is the case with the Oil-beetles, who, stealing -the property of others under very parlous conditions, are for that reason endowed -with prodigious fertility. -</p> -<p>The Bruchus knows neither the fatigues of the hard worker, obliged to restrict her -family, nor the woes of the parasite, obliged to go to the other extreme. Without -costly researches, entirely at her ease, merely by strolling in the sun over her favourite -plant, she can ensure an adequate provision for each of her children; she can do this, -and yet the mad creature takes it into her head to over-populate the pea-pod, a niggardly -baby-farm <span class="pageNum" id="pb202">[<a href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>in which the great majority will die of starvation. This folly passes my understanding: -it clashes so utterly with the usual perspicacity of the maternal instinct. -</p> -<p>I am therefore inclined to believe that the pea was not the Bruchus’ original share -in the distribution of the earth’s gifts. It must rather have been the bean, one seed -of which is capable of entertaining half a dozen visitors and more. With a seed of -this size, the startling disproportion between the number of the insect’s eggs and -the foodstuffs available disappears. -</p> -<p>Besides, there is not a doubt that, of our various culinary acquisitions, the broad -bean is the earliest in date. Its exceptional dimensions and its pleasant flavour -have certainly attracted man’s attention since the most remote times. It is a ready-made -mouthful, of great value to the hungry tribe, which would have hastened to secure -its increase by sowing it in the patch of garden beside the house, a hut of wattled -branches plastered with mud. This was the beginning of agriculture. -</p> -<p>Travelling by long stages, with their waggons drawn by shaggy Oxen and rolling on -solid wheels cut out of the trunks of trees, the emigrants from Central Asia brought -to our uncultivated tracts first the bean, then the pea and finally the cereal, that -eminent stand-by against hunger. They taught us the care of herds and the use of bronze, -of which the first metal implements were made. <span class="pageNum" id="pb203">[<a href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>Thus did the dawn of civilization rise over Europe. -</p> -<p>With the bean did those ancient pioneers bring us, involuntarily, the insect which -disputes its possession with us to-day? There is room for doubt; the Bruchus seems -to be a native. I find her at least levying tribute on divers Leguminosæ of the country, -spontaneous plants which have never tempted man’s appetite. She abounds in particular -on the great broad-leaved everlasting pea (<i lang="la">Lathyrus latifolius</i>), with its magnificent clusters of flowers and its long and handsome pods. Its seeds -are not large, are much smaller than those of our peas; but, gnawed to the very skin, -as they always are by their occupants, they are each sufficient to the welfare of -its grub. -</p> -<p>Note also their considerable number: I have counted more than twenty to the pod, a -wealth unknown to the garden pea, even in its most prolific state. Thus the superb -perennial is generally able, without much loss, to feed the family entrusted to its -pod. -</p> -<p>Where the everlasting pea is lacking, the Bruchus none the less continues her habitual -flux of germs on another legumen, of similar flavour but incapable of nourishing all -the grubs, as for instance on the broad-podded vetch (<i lang="la">Vicia peregrina</i>) or the common vetch (<i lang="la">V. sativa</i>). The number of eggs remains high even on these insufficient pods, because the original -plant offered a copious provender, <span class="pageNum" id="pb204">[<a href="#pb204">204</a>]</span>whether by the multiplicity or by the large size of the seeds. If the Bruchus is really -a foreigner, we may accept the bean as her first victim; if the insect is a native, -let us accept the everlasting pea. -</p> -<p>Some time in the remote past the pea reached us, gathered at first in the same prehistoric -garden-patch which already supplied the bean. Man found it a better food than the -horse-bean, which is very much neglected to-day after doing such good service. The -Weevil was of the same opinion and, without quite forgetting her broad bean and her -everlasting pea, generally pitched her camp on the garden pea, which became more widely -cultivated from century to century. To-day we have to go shares: the Bruchus takes -what she wants and lets us have her leavings. -</p> -<p>The insect’s prosperity, born of the abundance and quality of our products, from another -point of view spells decadence. For the Weevil as for ourselves, progress in the matter -of food and drink does not always mean improvement. The race fares better by remaining -frugal. On her horse-bean, on her everlasting pea, the Bruchus founded colonies in -which the infant mortality was low. There was room for all. On the pea, a delectable -sweetmeat, the greater part of the guests die of starvation. The rations are few and -the claimants legion. -</p> -<p>We will linger over this problem no longer. <span class="pageNum" id="pb205">[<a href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>Let us inquire into the grub which has become the sole owner of the pea through the -death of its brothers. It has had no part in that decease; chance has favoured it, -that is all. In the centre of the pea, a luxurious solitude, it performs a grub’s -duty, the one and only duty of eating. It gnaws the walls around and enlarges its -cell, which it always fills completely with its fair round belly. It is a plump and -shapely creature, glistening with health. If I tease it, it turns lazily in its cell -and wags its head. This is its way of complaining of my rudeness. Let us leave it -in peace. -</p> -<p>The anchorite thrives so well and so fast that, by the dog-days, it is already making -ready for its coming liberation. The adult has not the necessary tools to open for -herself her way out of the pea, which is now quite hard. The larva knows of this future -helplessness and provides against it with consummate art. With its strong jaws it -bores an exit-shaft, absolutely circular, with very clean-cut sides. Our best ivory-carvers -could produce nothing neater. -</p> -<p>To prepare the door of escape in advance is not enough; we must also think of the -tranquillity essential to the delicate work of the nymphosis. An intruder might enter -through the open door and work mischief upon the defenceless nymph. This opening must -therefore be kept shut. And how? Here is the device. -</p> -<p>The grub boring the exit-hole eats the floury <span class="pageNum" id="pb206">[<a href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>matter without leaving a single crumb. On reaching the skin of the seed, suddenly -it stops short. This semitranslucent membrane is the screen protecting the chamber -in which the metamorphosis takes place, the door that defends the cabin against ill-intentioned -intruders. It is also the only obstacle which the adult will encounter at the time -of moving. To lessen the difficulty of forcing it out, the grub takes the precaution -of carving a groove of least resistance inside the skin, all around the circumference. -The perfect insect will only have to heave with its shoulders, to strike a blow or -two with its head, in order to raise the lid and knock it off, like the lid of a box. -The exit-hole shows through the transparent skin of the pea in the shape of a large -circular spot, darkened by the obscurity within. What happens below cannot be seen, -hidden as it is behind a sort of ground-glass window. -</p> -<p>A pretty invention, this little port-hole, this barricade against the invader, this -trap-door lifted with a push of the hermit’s shoulder when the time has come. Shall -we give the Bruchus the credit of it? Could the ingenious insect imagine the enterprise, -ponder a plan and work upon a scheme of its own devising? This would be a fine triumph -for the Weevil’s brain. Before deciding, let us hear what experiment has to tell us. -</p> -<p>I skin some inhabited peas; I save them from drying too quickly by placing them in -glass tubes. <span class="pageNum" id="pb207">[<a href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>The grubs do as well here as in the intact peas. The preparations for the deliverance -are made at the proper time. -</p> -<p>If the miner acts on its own inspiration, if it ceases to prolong its shaft as soon -as it perceives, by sounding it now and again, that the ceiling is thin enough, what -ought to happen under the present conditions? Feeling that it is as near the surface -as it wishes to be, the grub will stop boring; it will respect the last layer of the -bare pea and will thus obtain the indispensable defensive screen. -</p> -<p>Nothing of the kind takes place. The well is excavated entirely; its mouth is open -to the outside, as wide, as carefully finished as though the skin of the pea were -still protecting it. Reasons of safety have in no way modified the usual work. The -foe can enter this open lodging; the grub gives the matter not a thought. -</p> -<p>Nor has it this in mind when it refrains from boring right through the pea still clad -in its skin. It stops suddenly, because it does not like the non-farinaceous skin. -We remove the skins before making our peas into soup: they have no culinary value; -they are not good. The larva of the Bruchus appears to be like ourselves: it hates -the tough outside of the pea. Warned by the unpleasant taste, it stops at the skin; -and this aversion causes a little miracle. The insect has no logical sense of its -own. It passively obeys a <span class="pageNum" id="pb208">[<a href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>higher logic; it obeys, but is as unconscious of its art as crystals are when assembling -their battalions of atoms in exquisite order. -</p> -<p>Sooner or later, in August, dark circles form on the peas, always one to each seed, -with no exception. These mark the exit-hatches. Most of them open in September. The -lid, which looks as though cut out with a punch, comes off very neatly and falls, -leaving the opening of the cell free. The Bruchus issues, freshly clad, in her final -form. -</p> -<p>The weather is delightful. Flowers abound, awakened by the showers; the emigrants -from the peas visit them in autumnal revelry. Then, when the cold sets in, they take -up their winter-quarters in some retreat or other. Others, quite as numerous, are -less eager to quit the native seed. They stay there, motionless, all through the frosty -season, sheltered behind the trap which they are careful not to touch. The door of -the cell will not open on its hinges, that is to say, along its line of least resistance, -until the hot weather returns. Then the laggards leave their homes and rejoin the -more forward; and all are ready for work when the peas come into flower. -</p> -<p>The great attraction of the insect world for the observer is that he can obtain a -more or less general survey of the instincts, in their inexhaustible variety; for -nowhere do we see the wonderful order of life’s details more clearly revealed. Entomology, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb209">[<a href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>I know, does not appeal to everybody from this point of view: people have a poor opinion -of the artless person absorbed in the behaviour of insects. To the terrible utilitarian, -a measure of peas saved from the Weevil is of more importance than any number of observations -which bring no immediate profit. -</p> -<p>And who has told you, O man of little faith, that what is useless to-day may not be -useful to-morrow? If we learn the habits of animals, we shall be better able to protect -our property. Do not despise disinterested ideas, lest you live to rue the day. It -is by accumulating ideas, whether immediately applicable or not, that mankind has -done and will continue to do better to-day than yesterday, better in the future than -in the present. If we live by peas and horse-beans, which the Weevil disputes with -us, we also live by knowledge, that mighty kneading-trough in which the dough of progress -is mixed and fermented. Science is well worth a bean or two. Among other things, it -tells us: -</p> -<p>‘The corn-chandler need not trouble to wage war upon the Weevil. By the time that -the peas are stored, the harm is done; it is irreparable, but not transmissible. The -untouched seeds have nothing to fear from the proximity of the seeds attacked, however -long they may remain together. The Bruchus will issue from the latter when her time -comes; she will fly out of the granary, if escape be possible; if not, she will die -without <span class="pageNum" id="pb210">[<a href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>in any way infesting the seeds that are still sound. No eggs, no new generation will -ever be seen on the dried peas in our storehouse; nor will any damage be caused by -the feeding of the adult.’ -</p> -<p>Our Bruchus is not a sedentary inhabitant of the granaries: she needs the open air, -the sunshine, the freedom of the fields. Very frugal on her own behalf, she absolutely -disdains the hardness of the legumen; all that her slender snout requires is a few -honeyed mouthfuls sipped from the flowers. The larva, on the other hand, demands the -soft bread of the green pea still growing inside the pod. For these reasons, the storehouse -knows no further multiplication on the part of the ravager introduced at the beginning. -</p> -<p>The origin of the mischief lies out of doors. It is here more than elsewhere that -we ought to keep a watch on the Weevil’s misdeeds, were it not that we are nearly -always unarmed when it comes to fighting against insects. Indestructible because of -their numbers, their small size, their sly cunning, the little creatures laugh at -man’s anger. The gardener fumes and curses; the Weevil remains unconcerned: imperturbably -she continues to levy her tithe. -</p> -<p>Fortunately, we have assistants, more patient and more clear-sighted than ourselves. -In the first week of August, when the adult Bruchus is beginning to move away, I make -the acquaintance of a little Chalcis, the protector of our peas. In <span class="pageNum" id="pb211">[<a href="#pb211">211</a>]</span>my rearing-jars a number of her comes out of the Weevil’s home before my eyes. The -female has a red head and thorax and a black abdomen, with a long boring-tool. The -male, a little smaller, is clad in black. Both sexes have dull-red legs and thread-like -antennæ. -</p> -<p>In order to leave the pea, the exterminator of the Bruchus opens herself a window -in the centre of the disk which the Weevil’s grub has bored in the skin with a view -to its future deliverance. The devoured has prepared the way out for the devourer. -This detail enables us to guess the rest. -</p> -<p>When the preliminaries of the metamorphosis are finished, when the exit-hole is bored, -furnished with its lid, a surface cuticle, the Chalcis comes bustling along. She inspects -the peas, still on the plant, in their pods; she tries them with her antennæ; she -discovers, hidden under the general outer wrapper of the pod, the weak points in the -ceiling formed by the skin. Then, raising her sounding-rod, she thrusts it through -the pod and pierces the thin lid. However deeply secreted in the centre of the pea, -the Weevil, whether larva or nymph, is reached by the long implement. It receives -an egg in its tender flesh; and the trick is done. Without any chance of defence, -for it is by now either a torpid grub or else a nymph, the corpulent infant will be -drained to the skin. -</p> -<p>What a pity that we are not able at will to <span class="pageNum" id="pb212">[<a href="#pb212">212</a>]</span>promote the multiplication of this zealous exterminator! Alas, our agricultural auxiliaries -have us in a disappointing vicious circle: if we wish to obtain the assistance of -large numbers of the Chalcids that bore holes in peas, we must first have large numbers -of Pea-weevils! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb213">[<a href="#pb213">213</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e369">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xiii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE HARICOT-WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">If there is a Heaven-sent vegetable on earth, it is the haricot bean. It has every -good quality in its favour: it is soft to the tooth, of an agreeable flavour, plentiful, -cheap and very nutritious. It is a vegetable flesh which, without being repulsive -or dripping with blood, is as good as the cut-up horrors in the butcher’s shop. To -emphasize its services to mankind, the Provençal idiom calls it <i lang="fr">gounflo-gus</i>, the poor man’s bellows.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2441src" href="#xd31e2441">1</a> -</p> -<p>Blessed bean, consoler of the poor, yes, you easily fill out the labourer, the honest -and capable worker who has drawn the wrong number in life’s mad lottery; kindly bean, -with three drops of oil and a dash of vinegar, you were the favourite dish of my boyhood; -and even now, in the evening of my days, you are welcome to my humble porringer. We -shall be friends to the last. -</p> -<p>To-day it is not my intention to extol your deserts: I want to ask you a question, -simply out of curiosity. <span class="pageNum" id="pb214">[<a href="#pb214">214</a>]</span>What is your country of origin? Did you come from Central Asia, with the horse-bean -and the pea? Did you belong to the collection of seeds which the first pioneers of -husbandry handed to us from their garden patch? Were you known to antiquity? -</p> -<p>Here the insect, an impartial and well-informed witness, answers: -</p> -<p>‘No, in our parts antiquity did not know the haricot. The precious legumen did not -reach our country by the same road as the broad bean. It is a foreigner, introduced -into the old continent at a later date.’ -</p> -<p>The insect’s statement merits serious examination, supported as it is by very plausible -arguments. Here are the facts. -</p> -<p>Though I have followed agricultural matters closely for many years, I have never seen -the haricots attacked by any ravager whatever of the insect series, nor in particular -by the Bruchi, the licensed despoilers of leguminous seeds. -</p> -<p>I question my peasant neighbours on this point. They are men who keep a sharp look-out -where their crops are concerned. To touch their property is a heinous crime, quickly -discovered. Besides, there is the housewife, who would not fail to find the malefactor -as she shells the haricots intended for the pot, conscientiously fingering them one -by one before dropping them into a plate. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb215">[<a href="#pb215">215</a>]</span></p> -<p>Well, one and all reply to my question with a smile in which I read their disbelief -in my knowledge of the smaller creatures: -</p> -<p>‘Sir,’ they say, ‘learn that there are never any worms in the haricot. It is a blessed -bean and respected by the Weevil. The pea, the broad bean, the lentil, the everlasting -pea, the chick-pea, all have their vermin; this one, <i lang="fr">lou gounflo-gus</i>, never. What should we poor people do if the <i>Courcoussoun</i> tried to rob us of it?’ -</p> -<p>The Curculio in fact despises it, displaying a very strange contempt when we consider -the fervour with which the other legumina are attacked. All, down to the meagre lentil, -are eagerly despoiled; and the haricot, so tempting both in size and in flavour, remains -unharmed. It baffles the understanding. For what reason does the Bruchus, who passes -without hesitation from the excellent to the indifferent and from the indifferent -to the excellent, disdain this delicious seed? She leaves the everlasting pea for -the green pea, she leaves the green pea for the broad bean and the vetch, accepting -the niggardly scrap and the rich cake with equal satisfaction; and the attractions -of the haricot leave her uninterested. Why? -</p> -<p>Apparently because this legumen is unknown to her. The others, whether natives or -acclimatized foreigners from the East, have been familiar to her for centuries; she -tests their excellence <span class="pageNum" id="pb216">[<a href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>year by year and, relying on the lessons of the past, she bases her forethought for -the future upon ancient custom. She suspects the haricot as a newcomer whose merits -she has still to learn. -</p> -<p>The insect tells us emphatically that the haricot is of recent date. It reached us -from very far away, surely from the New World. Every edible thing attracts those whose -business it is to make use of it. If the haricot had originated in the old continent, -it would have had its licensed consumers, after the manner of the pea, the lentil -and the others. The smallest leguminous seed, often no bigger than a pin’s head, feeds -its Bruchus, a dwarf that nibbles it patiently and hollows it into a dwelling, whereas -the plump and exquisite haricot is spared! -</p> -<p>This strange immunity can have but one explanation: like the potato, like maize, the -haricot is a present from the New World. It arrived in Europe unaccompanied by the -insect that battens on it regularly in its native land; it found in our fields other -seed-eaters, which, because they did not know it, despised it. In the same way, the -potato and maize are respected over here, unless their American consumers are imported -with them by accident. -</p> -<p>The insect’s report is confirmed by the negative evidence of the ancient classics: -the haricot never appears on the rustic table of their peasants. In <span class="pageNum" id="pb217">[<a href="#pb217">217</a>]</span>Virgil’s second Eclogue, Thestylis is preparing the reapers’ repast: -</p> -<div lang="la" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i>Thestylis et rapido fessis messoribus æstu</i> </p> -<p class="line"><i>Allia serpyllumque herbas contundit olentes.</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2485src" href="#xd31e2485">2</a> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">The mixture is the equivalent of the <i>aioli</i> dear to the Provençal palate. It sounds very well in verse, but it lacks substance. -On such an occasion men would prefer such solid fare as a dish of red haricots seasoned -with chopped onions. Capital: that ballasts the stomach, while remaining just as countrified -as garlic. Thus filled, in the open air, to the chirping of the Cicadæ, the gang of -harvesters could take a brief mid-day nap and gently digest their meal in the shade -of the sheaves. Our modern Thestyles, differing so little from their classic sisters, -would take good care not to forget the <i>gounflo-gus</i>, that thrifty stand-by of big appetites. The Thestylis of the poet does not think -of it, because she does not know it. -</p> -<p>The same author shows us Tityrus offering a night’s hospitality to his friend Melibœus, -who, driven from his property by the soldiers of Octavius, goes off limping behind -his flock of goats. -</p> -<p>‘We shall have chestnuts,’ says Tityrus, ‘cheese and fruits.’ -</p> -<p>History does not say if Melibœus allowed himself <span class="pageNum" id="pb218">[<a href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>to be tempted. It is a pity, for during the frugal meal we might have learnt, in a -more explicit fashion, that the shepherds of olden time had to do without the haricot. -</p> -<p>Ovid tells us, in a delightful passage, of the manner in which Philemon and Baucis -welcomed the gods unawares as guests in their humble cottage. On the three-legged -table steadied by means of a potsherd, they served cabbage-soup, rancid bacon, eggs -turned for a moment over the hot cinders, cornelian cherries preserved in brine, honey -and fruits. One dish is lacking amid this rustic magnificence, an essential dish which -no Baucis of our country-side would ever forget. The bacon-soup would have been followed, -inevitably, by a plateful of haricots. Why does Ovid, the poet so rich in details, -fail to speak of the bean which would have looked so well on the bill of fare? The -reply is the same: he cannot have known of it. -</p> -<p>In vain do I go over the little that my reading has taught me of rustic food in ancient -times: I have no recollection of the haricot. The stew-pots of the vine-dresser and -the harvester tell me of the lupin, the broad bean, the pea, and the lentil; but they -never mention the bean of beans. -</p> -<p>The haricot has a reputation of another kind, a reputation more flatulent than flattering. -You eat it and then, as the saying goes, the sooner you are off the better. It therefore -lends itself <span class="pageNum" id="pb219">[<a href="#pb219">219</a>]</span>to the coarse jests loved by the rabble, especially when these are put into words -by the shameless genius of an Aristophanes or a Plautus. What stage effects could -have been produced by the merest allusion to the noisy bean, raising guffaws of laughter -from the mariners of Athens or the street-porters of Rome! Did the two comic poets, -in the unfettered gaiety of a language less reserved than ours, ever refer to the -virtues of the haricot? Not once. They are quite silent on the subject of the sonorous -bean. -</p> -<p>The word haricot itself sets us thinking. It is an outlandish term, related to none -of our expressions. Its turn of language, which is alien to our combinations of sounds, -suggests to the mind some West-Indian jargon, as do caoutchouc and cocoa. Does the -word, as a matter of fact, come from the American Redskins? Did we receive, together -with the bean, the name by which it is called in its native country? Perhaps so; but -how are we to know? Haricot, fantastic haricot, you set us a curious linguistic problem. -</p> -<p>The Frenchman calls it also <i lang="fr">faséole</i>, <i lang="fr">flageolet</i>. The Provençal dubs it <i>faïoù</i> and <i>favioù</i>; the Catalan <i>fayol</i>; the Spaniard <i>faseolo</i>; the Portuguese <i>feyâo</i>; the Italian <i>faguilo</i>. Here I am on familiar ground: the languages of the Latin family have kept, with -the inevitable terminal modifications, the ancient word <i lang="la">faseolus</i>. -</p> -<p>Now, if I consult my dictionary, I find: <i>faselus</i>, <span class="pageNum" id="pb220">[<a href="#pb220">220</a>]</span><i>phaselus</i>, <i>faseolus</i>, <i>phaseolus</i>, haricot. Learned vocabulary, permit me to tell you that your translation is wrong: -<i>phaselus</i> or <i>phaseolus</i> cannot mean haricot. And the incontestable proof is in the <i>Georgics</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2559src" href="#xd31e2559">3</a> where Virgil tells us the season at which to sow the <i lang="la">faseolus</i>. He says: -</p> -<div lang="la" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i>Si vero viciamque seres vilemque phaselum.…</i> </p> -<p class="line"><i>Haud obscura cadens mittet tibi signa Bootes;</i> </p> -<p class="line"><i>Incipe et ad medias sementem extende pruinas.</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2577src" href="#xd31e2577">4</a> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">Nothing is clearer than the teaching of the poet, who was wonderfully well-informed -on agricultural matters: we must begin to sow the <i lang="la">phaselus</i> when the constellation Bootes disappears at sunset, that is to say, at the end of -October, and continue doing so until the middle of the winter. -</p> -<p>These conditions put the haricot out of the question: it is a chilly plant, which -would not withstand the slightest frost. The winter would be fatal to it, even in -the climate of the south of Italy. On the other hand, the pea, the broad bean, the -everlasting pea and others, better able to resist the cold because of their country -of origin, have nothing to fear from an autumn sowing and thrive during the winter, -provided that the climate be fairly mild. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb221">[<a href="#pb221">221</a>]</span></p> -<p>What then does the <i lang="la">phaselus</i> of the <i>Georgics</i> stand for, that problematical bean which has handed down its name to the haricot -in the Latin languages? Remembering the contemptuous epithet <i lang="la">vilis</i> with which the poet stigmatizes it, I feel inclined to look upon it as the chickling -vetch, the coarse square pea, the <i>jaisso</i> despised by the Provençal peasant. -</p> -<p>The problem of the haricot had reached this stage, almost elucidated by the insect’s -evidence alone, when an unexpected document came and gave me the last word of the -riddle. It is once more a poet—and a very famous poet—M. José Maria de Heredia,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2613src" href="#xd31e2613">5</a> who comes to the naturalist’s aid. Without suspecting the service which he is rendering -me, the village schoolmaster lends me a magazine<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2617src" href="#xd31e2617">6</a> in which I read the following conversation between the masterly chaser of sonnets -and a lady journalist who asks him which of his works he prefers: -</p> -<p>‘ “What would you have me say?” asks the poet. “You place me in a great difficulty.… -I do not know which sonnet I like best: they all cost me terrible pains to write.… -Which do you yourself prefer?” -</p> -<p>‘ “How can I possibly make a choice, my dear master, out of so many jewels, each of -which is <span class="pageNum" id="pb222">[<a href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>perfectly beautiful? You flash pearls, emeralds and rubies before my astonished eyes; -how can I decide to prefer the emerald to the pearl? The whole necklace throws me -into an ecstasy of admiration.” -</p> -<p>‘ “Well, as for me, there is something of which I am prouder than of all my sonnets, -something which has done more than my verses to establish my fame.” -</p> -<p>‘I open my eyes wide: -</p> -<p>‘ “What is that?” I ask. -</p> -<p>‘The master gives me a mischievous glance; then, with that fine light in his eyes -which fires his youthful features, he exclaims, triumphantly: -</p> -<p>‘ “I have discovered the etymology of the word haricot.” -</p> -<p>‘I was too much astounded even to laugh. -</p> -<p>‘ “What I tell you is perfectly serious.” -</p> -<p>‘ “My dear master, I knew your reputation for profound scholarship; but from that -to imagining that you owed your fame to discovering the etymology of the word haricot: -ah no, I should never have expected that! Can you tell me how you made the discovery?” -</p> -<p>‘ “With pleasure. It was like this: I found some particulars about haricots when searching -through a fine sixteenth-century work on natural history, Hernandez’ <i lang="la">De Historia plantarum novi orbis</i>. The word haricot was unknown in France until the seventeenth century: we used to -say <span class="pageNum" id="pb223">[<a href="#pb223">223</a>]</span><i>fève</i> or <i>phaséol</i>; in Mexican, <i>ayacot</i>. Thirty varieties of haricot were cultivated in Mexico before the conquest. They -are called <i>ayacot</i> to this day, especially the red haricot, with black or violet spots. One day, at -Gaston Paris’ house, I met a great scholar. On hearing my name, he rushed at me and -asked if it was I who had discovered the etymology of the word haricot. He was absolutely -ignorant of the fact that I had written poems and published <i lang="fr">Les Trophées</i>.…” ’ -</p> -<p>What a glorious jest, to place the jewellery of his sonnets under the protection of -a bean! I in my turn am delighted with the <i>ayacot</i>. How right I was to suspect that strange word haricot of being an American-Indian -idiom! How truthful the insect was when it declared, in its own fashion, that the -precious seed reached us from the New World! While retaining its first name, or something -very nearly, the bean of Montezuma, the Aztec <i>ayacot</i>, found its way from Mexico to our kitchen-gardens. -</p> -<p>But it came to us unaccompanied by the insect which is its titular consumer, for there -must certainly be a Weevil in its native country which levies tribute on the generous -bean. Our indigenous nibblers of seeds have disowned the foreigner; they have not -yet had time to become familiar with it and to appreciate its merits; they have prudently -refrained from touching the <i>ayacot</i>, which aroused suspicion because of its novelty. <span class="pageNum" id="pb224">[<a href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>Until our own days, therefore, the Mexican bean remained unharmed, differing curiously -in this from our other legumina, all of which are eagerly devoured by the Weevil. -</p> -<p>This state of things could not last. If our fields do not contain the haricot-loving -insect, the New World knows it well. In the ordinary way of commercial exchange, some -sack of worm-eaten beans was bound to bring it to Europe. The invasion was inevitable. -</p> -<p>Indeed, according to data in my possession, it seems recently to have taken place. -Three or four years ago, I received from Maillanne, in the Bouches-du-Rhône, what -I was vainly seeking in my neighbourhood, although I cross-examined both farmers and -housewives, astonishing them greatly by my questions. No one had ever seen the pest -of the haricots; no one had ever heard of it. Friends who knew of my inquiries sent -me from Maillanne, as I have said, the wherewithal to satisfy fully my curiosity as -a naturalist. It consisted of a bushel of haricots outrageously spoilt, riddled with -holes, changed into a sort of sponge and swarming inside with innumerable Bruchi, -which recalled the Lentil-weevil by their diminutive size. -</p> -<p>The senders told me of the damage suffered at Maillanne. The odious insect, they said, -had destroyed the best part of the crop. A veritable plague, the like of which had -never been known <span class="pageNum" id="pb225">[<a href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>before, had fallen upon the haricots, leaving the housekeeper hardly any with which -to garnish her stew. Of the culprit’s habits, of its way of going to work, nothing -was known. It was for me to find out this by experiment. -</p> -<p>Quick, then, let us experiment! Circumstances favour me. We are in the middle of June; -and I have in the garden a row of early haricots, black Belgian haricots, sown for -cooking-purposes. Though it mean sacrificing the precious vegetable, let us loose -the terrible destroyer on the mass of verdure. The development of the plant is at -just the right stage, if I may go by what the Pea-weevil has already shown me: there -are plenty of flowers and also of pods, still green and of all sizes. -</p> -<p>I put two or three handfuls of my Maillanne haricots in a plate and place the swarming -mass full in the sunlight on the edge of my bed of beans. I can imagine what will -happen. The insects which are free and those which the stimulus of the sun will soon -set free will take to their wings. Finding the fostering plant close by, they will -stop and take possession of it. I shall see them exploring the pods and flowers and -I shall not have long to wait before I witness the laying. That is how the Pea-weevil -would act under similar conditions. -</p> -<p>Well, no: to my confusion, matters do not fall out as I foresaw. For a few minutes -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb226">[<a href="#pb226">226</a>]</span>insects bustle about in the sunlight, opening and closing their wing-cases to ease -the mechanism of flight; then one by one they fly off. They mount high in the luminous -air; they grow smaller and smaller and are soon lost to view. My persevering attention -meets with not the slightest success: not one of the fly-aways settles on the haricots. -</p> -<p>After tasting the joys of liberty to the full, will they return this evening, to-morrow, -the day after? No, they do not return. All the week, at favourable hours, I inspect -the rows of beans, flower by flower, pod by pod; never a Weevil do I see, never an -egg. And yet it is a propitious time of year, for at this moment the mothers imprisoned -in my jars are laying their eggs profusely on the dry haricots. -</p> -<p>Let us try at another season. I have two other beds which I have had sown with the -late haricot, the red <i>cocot</i>, partly for the use of the household, but principally for the sake of the Weevils. -Arranged in convenient rows, the two beds will yield their crops one in August, the -other in September and later. -</p> -<p>I repeat with the red haricot the experiment which I made with the black. On several -occasions, at opportune times, I release into the tangle of verdure large numbers -of Bruchi from my glass jars, the general depot. Each time the result is plainly negative. -In vain, all through the season, <span class="pageNum" id="pb227">[<a href="#pb227">227</a>]</span>I repeat my almost daily search, until both the crops are exhausted: I can never discover -a single colonized pod, nor even a single Weevil perched upon the plant. -</p> -<p>And yet this is not for lack of watching. My family are enjoined not to touch any -part of certain rows which I reserve for my purposes; they are told to mind the eggs -which might occur on the pods gathered. I myself examine the beans brought from my -own or the neighbouring gardens, before handing them to the housekeeper to be shelled. -All my trouble is wasted: there is nowhere a trace of any laying. -</p> -<p>To these experiments in the open air I add others under glass. I place in long, narrow -flasks fresh pods hanging from their stalks, some green, others mottled with crimson -and containing seeds which are nearly ripe. Each flask receives its complement of -Weevils. This time I obtain eggs, but they do not inspire me with much hope: the mother -has laid them on the sides of the flasks and not on the pods. No matter: they hatch. -For a few days I see the grubs roaming about, exploring the pods and the glass with -equal zeal. In the end they all die, from the first to the last, without touching -the food provided. -</p> -<p>The conclusion to be drawn is obvious: the young and tender haricot is not the thing -for them. Unlike the Pea-weevil, the Haricot-weevil refuses to entrust her family -to beans that are not hardened <span class="pageNum" id="pb228">[<a href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>by age and desiccation; she declines to stop on my seed-patch, because she does not -find the provisions which she requires. -</p> -<p>Then what does she want? She wants old, hard beans, which clatter on the ground like -little pebbles. I will satisfy her. I place in my flasks some very hard, tough pods, -which have been long dried in the sun. This time the family prospers; the grubs bore -through the parched shell, reach the seeds, enter them; and henceforth all goes well -as well can be. -</p> -<p>To all appearances, this is how the Weevil invades the farmer’s granary. Some haricots -are left standing in the fields until both plants and pods, baked by the sun, are -perfectly dry. This will make them easier to beat in order to separate the beans. -It is now that the Weevil, finding things as she wants them, begins her laying. By -getting in his crop a little late, the peasant gets the marauder into the bargain. -</p> -<p>But the Bruchus attacks more especially the seeds in our stores. Copying the Corn-weevil, -who eats the wheat in our granaries and disregards the cereal swaying in the ear, -in the same way she abhors the tender bean and prefers to make her home in the peace -and darkness of our warehouses. She is a formidable enemy of the corn-chandler rather -than of the farmer. -</p> -<p>What a fury of destruction, once the ravager is installed amidst our hoards of beans! -My <span class="pageNum" id="pb229">[<a href="#pb229">229</a>]</span>flasks proclaim the fact aloud. A single haricot-bean harbours a numerous family, -often as many as twenty. And not only one generation exploits it, but quite three -or four in the year. So long as any edible matter remains within the skin, so long -do new consumers settle down in it, until in the end the haricot becomes a loathsome -sugar-plum stuffed with stercoral droppings. The skin, which the grubs refuse to eat, -is a sack pierced with round holes numbering as many as the inhabitants that have -left it; the contents yield to the pressure of the finger and spread into a disgusting -paste of floury excreta. The bean is a complete wreck. -</p> -<p>The Pea-weevil, living alone in its seed, eats only enough to make a little hollow -for the nymph. The rest remains intact, so that the pea is able to sprout and can -even serve as food, if we dismiss any unreasonable repugnance from our mind. The American -insect does not exercise this self-restraint: it empties its haricot entirely, leaving -a skinful of filth which I have seen refused by the pigs. America does not do things -by halves when she sends us her plagues of insects. We had to thank her for the Phylloxera, -the disastrous Louse against whom our vine-growers wage incessant war; and now we -have to thank her for the Haricot-weevil, a serious future menace. A few experiments -will give us an idea of the danger. -</p> -<p>For nearly three years there have stood, on the table of my insect laboratory, some -dozens of jars <span class="pageNum" id="pb230">[<a href="#pb230">230</a>]</span>and bottles closed with gauze covers which prevent escape, while permitting constant -ventilation. These are the cages containing my wild animals. In them I rear the Haricot-weevil, -varying the diet as I please. They teach me among other things that the insect, far -from being exclusive in the choice of its establishments, will make itself at home -in our different legumina, with very few exceptions. -</p> -<p>All the haricots suit it, whether black or white, red or striped, small or large, -those of the last crop or those many years old and almost too hard to boil. The loose -beans are attacked by preference, as being less troublesome to invade; but, when there -are no shelled beans available, those covered by their natural sheath are just as -zealously exploited. The new-born grubs are well able to reach them through the pod, -which is often as stiff as parchment. This is how the beans are raided in the fields. -</p> -<p>Another highly-appreciated bean is the long-podded dolichos, known among our people -as <i lang="fr">lou faioù borgné</i>, the one-eyed haricot, because of the dark speck which gives the umbilicus the look -of a black eye. I even fancy that my boarders show a marked predilection for this -bean. -</p> -<p>So far, there is nothing abnormal: the Bruchus has not gone beyond the botanical genus -<i lang="la">Phaseolus</i>. But here is something that increases the danger and shows us the phaseolus-lover -in an unexpected <span class="pageNum" id="pb231">[<a href="#pb231">231</a>]</span>light. The Bruchus accepts without the least hesitation the dried pea, the broad bean, -the everlasting pea, the vetch, the chick-pea; she passes from one to the other, always -satisfied; her family live and prosper in all these legumina as well as they do in -the haricot. Only the lentil is refused, perhaps because of its insufficient size. -What a dread robber this American Weevil is! -</p> -<p>The evil would become still greater if, as I feared at first, the ever-greedy insect -passed from leguminous seeds to cereals. This it does not do. When installed in my -jars with a heap of wheat, barley, rice or maize, the Bruchus invariably dies without -offspring. The result is the same with horny seeds, such as coffee-beans; with oleaginous -seeds, such as those of the castor-oil-plant or of the sunflower. Nothing outside -the legumina suits the Bruchus. Notwithstanding these limitations, its portion is -a very extensive one; and it uses and abuses it with the utmost energy. -</p> -<p>The eggs are white and drawn out into a tiny cylinder. They are scattered anyhow and -anywhere. The mother lays them either singly or in little groups, on the sides of -the jar as well as on the haricots. Her heedlessness is such that she will even fasten -them to maize, castor-oil-seeds, coffee-beans or other seeds, on which the family -are doomed soon to perish, finding no food to their liking. What is the use of maternal -foresight here? Left no matter where, under the heaps of beans, <span class="pageNum" id="pb232">[<a href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>the eggs are always well-placed, for it is the new-born grubs’ business to seek and -find the spots at which to effect an entrance. -</p> -<p>The egg hatches in five days at most. Out of it comes a tiny white creature, with -a red head. It is a mere speck, just visible to the naked eye. The grub is swollen -in front, to give more strength to its tool, the chisel of its mandibles, which has -to break through the tough seed, hard as wood. The larvæ of the Buprestes and the -Capricorns, which tunnel through the trunks of trees, are similarly shaped. As soon -as it is born, the crawling worm makes off at random, with an activity which we should -hardly expect in one so young. It roams about, anxious to find board and lodging as -soon as possible. -</p> -<p>It attains its object, for the most part, within the twenty-four hours. I see the -worm making a hole in the tough skin of the seed; I watch its efforts; I catch sight -of it half-sunk in the beginning of a gallery whose entrance is dusty with white flour, -the refuse from the boring. It works its way in and penetrates into the heart of the -seed. Its evolution is so rapid that it will emerge in the adult form in five weeks’ -time. -</p> -<p>This hasty development permits several generations to take place in the course of -the year. I have seen four. On the other hand, an isolated couple supplied me with -a family of eighty. Let us consider only half this number, to allow for the <span class="pageNum" id="pb233">[<a href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>two sexes, which I take to be equally represented. At the end of the year, the couples -resulting from this source will therefore be represented by the fourth power of forty, -reaching in terms of larvæ the frightful total of over two and a half millions. What -a heap of haricots such a legion would destroy! -</p> -<p>The larva’s methods remind us at all points of what the Pea-weevil showed us. Each -grub digs itself a cell in the floury mass, while respecting the skin in the form -of a protective disk, which the adult will easily be able to push out at the moment -of leaving. Towards the end of the larval phase, the cells show through on the surface -of the bean as so many dark circles. At last the lid falls off, the insect leaves -its cell and the haricot remains pierced with as many holes as it had grubs feeding -on it. -</p> -<p>Very frugal, satisfied with a few floury scraps, the adults seem not at all anxious -to abandon the heap so long as beans worth exploiting remain. They mate in the interstices -of the stack; the mothers scatter their eggs at random; the young grubs make themselves -at home, some in the untouched haricots, some in the beans that are holed but not -yet exhausted; and the swarming is repeated every five weeks throughout the summer, -after which the last generation, the one born in September or October, slumbers in -its cells till the return of the warm weather. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb234">[<a href="#pb234">234</a>]</span></p> -<p>If ever the spoiler of the haricots became too ominously threatening, it would not -be very difficult to wage a war of extermination upon her. We know from her habits -the best tactics to follow. She ravages the dry and gathered crop, stored in the granaries. -It is an irksome matter to attend to her in the open fields; and it is also almost -useless. The bulk of her business is conducted elsewhere, in our warehouses. The enemy -settles down under our roof, within our reach. This being so, with the aid of insecticides -defence becomes relatively easy. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb235">[<a href="#pb235">235</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2441"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2441src">1</a></span> Or, if the reader prefers, the Swell-belly. <i>Gus</i>, in the Provençal dialect, means both ‘guts’ and ‘bigger.’—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2441src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2485" lang="en"> -<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2485src">2</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">‘And Thestylis wild thyme and garlic beats </p> -<p class="line">For harvest hinds, o’erspent with toil and heats.’— </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e109"><i>Pastorals</i>, ii., Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2485src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2559"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2559src">3</a></span> Book i., line 227 <i>et seq.</i>—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2559src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2577"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2577src">4</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">‘Vile vetches would you sow, or lentils lean? </p> -<p class="line">The growth of Egypt, or the kidney-bean? </p> -<p class="line">Begin when the slow Waggoner descends, </p> -<p class="line">Nor cease your sowing till mid-winter ends.’ </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e109">—Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2577src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2613"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2613src">5</a></span> The Academician (1842–1905).—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2613src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2617"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2617src">6</a></span> <i lang="fr">Annales politiques et littéraires: Les Enfants jugés par leurs Pères</i>. Christmas number, 1901.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2617src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e377">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xiv</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE IRIS-WEEVIL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Plants, with their fruits, have been and still are the main sustenance of mankind. -The ancient Paradise of which the eastern legends tell us had no other food-resources. -It was a delicious garden with cool rivulets and fruits of every kind, including the -apple that was to be so fatal to us. On the other hand, from a very early period, -our ills sought to obtain relief by the virtues of simples, virtues that were sometimes -real and sometimes, indeed most frequently, imaginary. Our knowledge of plants is -thus as old as our infirmities and our need of food. -</p> -<p>Our knowledge of insects, on the contrary, is quite recent. The ancients knew nothing -of the lesser animals, did not even deign to glance at them. This disdain is by no -means extinct. We are vaguely familiar with the work of the Bee and the Silk-worm; -we have heard people speak of the industry of the Ant; we know that the Cicada sings, -without having a very exact notion of the singer, who is confused with others; we -have perhaps vouchsafed a careless glance to the splendours of the Butterflies; and -with this, for <span class="pageNum" id="pb236">[<a href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>the immense majority, entomology begins and ends. What layman would risk naming an -insect, even one of the more remarkable? -</p> -<p>The Provençal peasant, who is pretty quick at observing things that have to do with -the land, has a dozen expressions at the very most to denominate indiscriminately -the vast world of insects, though he possesses a very rich vocabulary by which to -describe plants. This or that bit of weed which one would think was known only to -the botanists is to him a familiar object and bears a special name of its own. -</p> -<p>Now the vegetarian insect is, as a rule, scrupulously faithful to its food-plant, -so that, with botany and entomology going hand in hand, the beginner is spared many -a hesitation. The plant exploited gives the name of the exploiting insect. Who, for -instance, does not know the splendid yellow iris? The green cutlasses of its leaves -and its yellow cluster of flowers are mirrored in the brooks. The pretty, green Tree-frog, -swelling his throat into a bagpipe, sits and croaks in it at the approach of rain. -</p> -<p>Come nearer. On its trivalvular capsules, which the heat of June is beginning to ripen, -we shall see a curious sight. Here, a restless company of thick-set, rusty-red Weevils -are embracing, separating and coming together again. They are working with their beaks -and are busy mating. This shall be our subject for to-day. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb237">[<a href="#pb237">237</a>]</span></p> -<p>Our current language has not given them a name, but history has inflicted on them -the fantastic appellation of <i lang="la">Mononychus pseudo-acori</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span> Literally interpreted and amplified, this means ‘the one-nailed insect of the mock -acorus,’ acorus in its turn being derived from <span class="trans" title="a"><span lang="grc" class="grek">α</span></span>, privative, and <span class="trans" title="korē"><span lang="grc" class="grek">κόρη</span></span><span class="corr" id="xd31e2778" title="Not in source">,</span> the pupil of the eye. The grammarian’s scalpel, searching and dissecting the entrails -of words, is liable, like the anatomist’s scalpel, to meet with strange adventures. -Let us explain this scientific jargon, which at first sight seems utterly meaningless. -</p> -<p>The plant helpful to those without pupils—that is to say, the weak-sighted—is the -acorus, or sweet flag, which the medical science of antiquity prescribed for certain -affections of the eyes. Its sword-shaped leaves bear some resemblance to those of -the yellow iris. Ours, therefore, is the false acorus, a deceptive image of the famous -medicinal plant. -</p> -<p>As for the one nail, this is explained by the tarsi, the insect’s six fingers, each -of which is armed with a single claw instead of the usual two. This strange exception -certainly deserved to be pointed out; all the same, any one must prefer Iris-weevil -to <i lang="la">Mononychus pseudo-acori</i>. Neglecting all pomp and ostentation, the everyday name does not topsy-turvify the -mind and makes straight for the insect. -</p> -<p>In June, I pluck some stems of yellow iris surmounted by their bunch of capsules, -which are <span class="pageNum" id="pb238">[<a href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>already large and keep fresh and green for a long time. The exploiting Weevil goes -with them. In captivity, under the trellis-work of a wire-gauze cover, the work proceeds -just as it does beside the brook. Most of the insects, singly or in groups, stand -at convenient points. With their rostrum plunged into the green hull, they sip and -sup indefinitely. When they retire sated, a drop of gum oozes out which, after drying -on the orifice of the well, marks the spot which they have drained. -</p> -<p>Others are grazing. They attack the tender capsules and skin them almost down to the -seeds. Despite their tiny size, they nibble gluttonously; when several of them are -feasting together, they gnaw large areas; but they do not actually reach the seeds, -the food reserved for the larvæ. Many of them stroll about, seem not to care for eating. -They meet, tease one another for a moment and couple. -</p> -<p>I do not succeed in observing the method of laying, which, however, must be much the -same as that of the other Weevils who use a sound. The mother apparently bores a well -with her rostrum; she then turns and places the egg in position by means of her oviscapt. -I have seen larvæ quite recently hatched. The vermin occupy the interior of a seed -whose substance is becoming organized and beginning to grow firm. -</p> -<p>At the end of July, I open some capsules brought <span class="pageNum" id="pb239">[<a href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>on the same day from the banks of the stream. In most of them the insect occurs in -the three forms of larva, nymph and adult. Each of the three cells of the fruit contains -a row of some fifteen seeds, flat and pressed tightly one against the other. The grub’s -portion consists of three contiguous seeds. The one in the middle is entirely consumed, -excepting the husk, which is too tough; the two at either end are simply bitten into. -The result is a house with three rooms, the central one shaped like a ring, the two -outer ones dug cup-wise. -</p> -<p>With its fifteen seeds, each compartment of the fruit is therefore able to shelter -five larvæ at most, providing them with a fitting ration and a detached villa which -does not interfere with the neighbours. However, on the back of the capsule, we count, -for each cell, about twenty perforations, the edge of which is marked by a little -wart either of gum or of some brown substance. These are so many soundings made by -the Weevil’s rostrum. -</p> -<p>Some of these have to do with the feeding: they are the refreshment-bars at which -the colonists of the capsule have taken a snack. The others relate to the laying of -the eggs and the placing of them, one by one, in the midst of the victuals. Outwardly -there is nothing to distinguish the speck which marks a refreshment-bar from that -which marks a cradle; therefore it is impossible, by merely counting the borings, -to tell exactly how <span class="pageNum" id="pb240">[<a href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>many eggs have been confided to the capsule. Let us strike an average. Of the twenty -punctures in one shell, let us consider ten as relating to the eggs. These would be -twice as many as the cell could feed. What then has become of the surplus? -</p> -<p>Here we are reminded of the Weevil who scatters over her pea-pod an excessive number -of eggs, out of all proportion to the provisions which it contains. In the same way, -on the iris, the pregnant mother takes no stock of the rations; she peoples the already -populated and fills the overflowing. Her procreative fury does not reckon with the -future. Let those thrive who may. -</p> -<p>We can understand <i lang="la">Verbascum thapsus</i> allowing itself forty-eight thousand seeds when the germination of a single one would -suffice to maintain the species: its distaff is a treasure-house of food by which -a host of consumers will profit. But we cannot understand the Pea-weevil, the Iris-weevil -and many others who, though not exposed to a serious thinning, nevertheless produce -excessive families without taking into account the resources at their disposal. -</p> -<p>For lack of room on the seed-capsule of the iris, of the ten guests in one shell four -or five at most will survive. As for the disappearance of the rest, we need not seek -the cause in the massacring of rivals, though the struggle for existence is fruitful -in such crimes. The Weevil’s grub is too pacific <span class="pageNum" id="pb241">[<a href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>a creature to wring the neck of those which get in its way. I prefer the explanation -which I gave in the case of the Pea-weevil. The late-comers, finding the best places -taken, allow themselves to die without striving to dislodge the others. For those -first installed, a plentiful board and life; for those which lag behind, famine and -death. -</p> -<p>In August the adults begin to appear outside the seed-pods of the iris. The larva -has not the talent which the Pea-weevil’s grub possesses: it does not, by patient -nibbling, make any sort of preparation for the exodus. It is the perfect insect itself -that contrives the exit-way, which consists of a round hole bored through the tough -husk of the seed and the thick wall of the fruit. Finally, in September, the capsules -of the iris turn brown and the three valves become unfastened; the house threatens -to fall to pieces. Before it becomes untenable, the last occupants hasten to clear -out, each by its round window. They will spend the winter in the neighbourhood, under -some kind of shelter; then, when spring returns and the iris is yellow with flowers, -the colonizing of the capsules will begin all over again. -</p> -<p>The flora of my district, not far from the spots frequented by our insect, in addition -to the yellow iris comprises three other species. On the neighbouring hills, among -the rock-roses and the rosemaries, the dwarf iris abounds (<i lang="la">I. chamæiris</i>, <span class="sc">Bertol.</span>), with flowers of varying colour: they <span class="pageNum" id="pb242">[<a href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>are sometimes purple, sometimes yellow or white and sometimes attired in a mixture -of the three hues. The plant is barely a hand’s-breadth in height, but its flowers -are quite as large as those of the other species. -</p> -<p>On the same hills, at points where the rains have left a little moisture, the spurious -iris (<i lang="la">I. spuria</i>) forms a glorious carpet. It is tall, slender-leaved and decked with flowers of rare -beauty. Lastly, near the brook where I have been observing the Iris-weevil, is the -Gladwyn iris, or leg-of-mutton iris (<i lang="la">I. fœtidissiina</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), whose leaves, when bruised, give a faint scent of mutton and garlic. Its seeds -are a fine orange-red, a specific characteristic which recurs not elsewhere. -</p> -<p>Altogether, without counting such foreigners as may have found their way into the -flower-gardens around, we see four varieties of native iris at the Weevil’s disposal. -They have the same sort of capsules, all equally bulky and equally rich in seeds, -whose properties as food cannot differ much. Moreover the four plants flower at the -same season. And of these four, which would permit her greatly to extend her race, -the Weevil invariably selects the yellow iris. I have never found the insect established -in the capsules of one of the other three. -</p> -<p>For what reasons does she prefer niggardly uniformity to varied abundance? The tastes -of the adult insect and those of the larva must have <span class="pageNum" id="pb243">[<a href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>something to say to the choice. The adult feeds on the fleshy hull of the capsules; -the grub, on the other hand, lives entirely on the seeds, which are not yet hardened -and are full of juice. Are the appetites of the adult insect satisfied with the fruit -of any kind of iris? This can be tested. -</p> -<p>Under the trellis-work of a wire cover, I place before the Weevil some green capsules -of different origins. Jumbled up with the fruits of the yellow iris are those of the -dwarf iris, the leg-of-mutton iris and the spurious iris. To these I add some foreign -capsules, those of the pale Turkey iris (<i lang="la">I. pallida</i>, <span class="sc">Lam.</span>) and of the great bulbous iris (<i lang="la">I. xiphoides</i>, <span class="sc">Ehrh.</span>), which differs so greatly from the others by the bulb which takes the place of the -usual rhizome. -</p> -<p>Well, all these fruits are accepted as eagerly as those of the yellow iris. The Weevil -riddles them with punctures, strips them bare, pierces them with windows. The capsules -of my choosing and those from the banks of the stream, which are normally used, often -lie side by side; the consumer makes no distinction between them, but goes without -hesitation from one to the other, attacking them with a zeal which is in no wise impaired -by the novelty of the dish. It considers everything good to eat, so long as it comes -from an iris of some sort or other. -</p> -<p>And this is not, as one might reasonably suppose, <span class="pageNum" id="pb244">[<a href="#pb244">244</a>]</span>an aberration caused by the tedium of captivity. I have found in the <i>harmas</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2860src" href="#xd31e2860">1</a> on the tall stalks of the pale Turkey iris, a group of our Weevils feeding together -on the green capsules. Whence came they, these pilgrims observed for the first time -between my four walls? How did they learn, these colonists from the moist river-banks, -that an iris which provided excellent eating was flowering amid the aridities of my -acre of pebbles? At any rate, they left no part of the young capsules intact. The -food discovered suited them very well. It was therefore impossible for me to profit -by this windfall in order to ascertain whether the unfamiliar plant would serve for -the establishment of the family. -</p> -<p>Apart from the genus <i>Iris</i>, are there any other plants, its near botanical relations, whose fruits are accepted? -I have vainly tried the trivalvular capsules of the corn-flag (<i lang="la">Gladiolus segetum</i>, <span class="sc">Gawl.</span>) and the globular capsules of two asphodels (<i lang="la">Asphodelus luteus</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span> and <i lang="la">A. cerasiferus</i>, <span class="sc">Gay</span>). The Weevil would have none of them. At most she dipped her rostrum into the green -capsules of the yellow asphodel, the common Jacob’s staff. She tasted and then moved -away. The dish was not to her liking; and hunger was unable to overcome her obstinate -disdain. She would die of starvation <span class="pageNum" id="pb245">[<a href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>sooner than touch victuals unhallowed by tradition. -</p> -<p>It goes without saying that I found nothing in the way of eggs on the corn-flag or -the two asphodels. What the insect regards as unfit for its own consumption is <i lang="la">a fortiori</i> refused when the grub’s food is concerned. Nor was I any luckier with the various -irises which I tried, the yellow iris excepted. Are we to attribute this refusal to -the insect’s captivity? No, for the capsules of the yellow iris were colonized fairly -well under my wire covers. The fact is that, as soon as the establishment of the family -comes into question, the Weevil abstains entirely from anything that is contrary to -habit and remains firmly faithful to the laws and customs of the ancients. In short, -I have never found the Weevil established elsewhere than in the capsules of the yellow -iris, however appetizing the appearance of the others, especially those of the dwarf -iris, which are exceedingly fleshy and very numerous in the spring. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb246">[<a href="#pb246">246</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2860"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2860src">1</a></span> The enclosed piece of waste land on which the author used to study his insects in -the wild state. Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. i.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2860src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e385">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xv</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CIONUS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">An insect, well known to every one, is often but a stupid creature, while another, -of which nothing is known, is of real value. When endowed with talents worthy of attention, -it passes unrecognized; when richly clad and of handsome appearance, it is familiar -to us. We judge it by its coat and its size, as we judge our neighbour by the fineness -of his clothing and the importance of the position which he fills. The rest does not -count. -</p> -<p>Of course, if it is to be honoured by the historian, it is best that the insect should -enjoy popular renown. This saves the reader trouble, as he at once knows precisely -what we are speaking of; furthermore, it shortens the story, which is not hampered -by long and tedious descriptions. Moreover, if size facilitates observation, if elegance -of shape and brilliance of costume captivate the eye, we should be wrong not to take -this magnificence into our reckoning. -</p> -<p>But far more important are the habits, the ingenious devices, which give a real charm -to entomological study. Now it so happens that among the insects it is the largest, -the most magnificent, <span class="pageNum" id="pb247">[<a href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>that are generally the most inefficient: a freak of nature that recurs elsewhere. -What can we expect of a Carabus, all shimmering with metallic gleams? Nothing but -feasting amid the foam secreted by a murdered snail. What can we expect of the Cetonia, -who looks as though she had escaped from a jeweller’s show-case? Nothing but drowsy -slumbers in the heart of a rose. These magnificoes cannot do anything; they have no -craft, no trade. -</p> -<p>If, on the contrary, we wish to see original inventions, artistic masterpieces and -ingenious contrivances, we must apply to the humble creatures that are oftener than -not unknown to any one. And we must not allow ourselves to be disgusted by the spots -frequented. Ordure has beautiful and curious things in store for us, the like of which -we should never find on the rose. The Minotaur<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2910src" href="#xd31e2910">1</a> has edified us by his domestic habits. Long live the modest! Long live the little! -</p> -<p>One of these little ones, smaller than a peppercorn, will set us a great problem, -full of interest but probably insoluble. The official nomenclators call it <i lang="la">Cionus thapsus</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span> If you ask me what Cionus means, I shall reply frankly that I have not the least -idea. Neither the writer of these lines nor the reader is any the worse off for that. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb248">[<a href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>In entomology a name is all the better for meaning nothing but the insect named. -</p> -<p>If an amalgam of Greek or Latin has a meaning that alludes to the insect’s manner -of living, the reality is often inconsistent with the word, because the nomenclator, -working in a necropolis, has preceded the observer, who is concerned with the living -species. Moreover, rough guesses and even glaring mistakes too often disfigure the -records of the insect world. -</p> -<p>At the present moment, it is the word <i>thapsus</i> that deserves reproach, for the plant exploited by the Cionus is not the botanists’ -<i lang="la">Verbascum thapsus</i> at all, but quite another plant, of wholly different character, <i lang="la">Verbascum sinuatum</i>. A lover of the way-side, having no fear of the ungrateful soil and the white dust, -the scallop-leaved mullein is a southern plant which spreads over the ground a rosette -of broad, fluffy leaves, the edges of which are gashed with deep, wavy incisions. -Its flower-stalk is divided into a number of twigs bearing yellow blossoms whose staminal -filaments are bearded with violet hairs. -</p> -<p>At the end of May, let us open the umbrella, the collector’s chief engine of the chase, -underneath the plant. A few blows of a walking-stick on the chandelier ablaze with -yellow flowers will bring down a sort of hail. This is our friend the Cionus, a roundish -little creature, huddled into a globule on its short legs. Its costume is not <span class="pageNum" id="pb249">[<a href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>lacking in elegance and consists of a scaly jacket flecked with black specks on an -ash-grey background. The insect is distinguished above all by two large tufts of black -velvet, one on its back and the other at the lower extremity of the wing-case. No -other Weevil of our country-side wears the like. The rostrum is fairly long, powerful -and depressed towards the thorax. -</p> -<p>For a long while this Weevil, with her decoration of black spots, has occupied my -mind. I should like to know her larva, which, as everything seems to prove, must live -in the capsules of the scallop-leaved mullein. The insect belongs to the series that -nibble at seeds contained in a shell; it ought to share their botanical habits. But -vainly, whatever the season, do I open the capsules of the exploited plant: never -do I find the Cionus there, nor its larva, nor its nymph. This little mystery increases -my curiosity. Perhaps the dwarf has interesting things to tell us. I propose to wrest -her secret from her. -</p> -<p>It so happens that a few scallop-leaved mulleins are spreading their rosettes amid -the pebbles of my enclosure. They are not populated, but I can easily colonize them -with specimens from the country round about, obtained by a few <i>battues</i> over the umbrella. No sooner said than done. From May onwards I have before my door, -without fear of disturbance by passing Sheep, the means <span class="pageNum" id="pb250">[<a href="#pb250">250</a>]</span>of following the Cionus’ doings, in comfort, at any hour of the day. -</p> -<p>My colonies flourish. The strangers, satisfied with their new camping-ground, settle -down on the twigs on which I have placed them. They browse and gently tease one another -with their legs: many of them pair off and gaily spend their lives revelling in the -sunshine. Those coupled together, one on top of the other, are subject to sudden lurches -from side to side, as though impelled by the release of a vibrating spring. Pauses -follow, of varying length; then the lurches are repeated, cease and begin again. -</p> -<p>Which of the two supplies the motive force of this little piece of machinery? It seems -to me that it is the female, who is rather larger than the male. The jerking would -then be a protest on her part, an attempt to free herself from the embraces of her -companion, who holds on despite all this shaking. Or again, it may be a common manifestation, -the pair joyfully exulting in a nuptial rolling from side to side. -</p> -<p>Those who are not coupled plunge their rostrum into the budding flowers and feast -deliciously. Others bore little brown holes in the tiny twigs, whence oozes a drop -of syrup which the Ants will come and lick up presently. And that, for the moment, -is all. There is nothing to tell us where the eggs will be laid. -</p> -<p>In July, certain capsules, still quite small, green <span class="pageNum" id="pb251">[<a href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>and tender, have at their base a brown speck which might well be the work of the Cionus -placing her eggs. I have my doubts: most of these punctured capsules contain nothing. -The grubs then left their cell shortly after the hatching, the aperture, still open, -allowing them to pass. -</p> -<p>This emancipation of the new-born grubs, this premature exposure to the dangers of -the outside world, is not consistent with the habits of the Weevils, who are great -stay-at-homes while in the larval state. Legless, plump, fond of repose, the grub -shrinks from change of place; it grows up on the spot where it was born. -</p> -<p>Another circumstance increases my perplexity. Among the capsules which the Weevil -seems to have perforated with her rostrum, some contain eggs of an orange yellow, -grouped into a single heap of five or six or more. This multiplicity gives us food -for reflection. When fully matured, the capsules of the scallop-leaved mullein are -small, greatly inferior in size to those of other plants of the same genus. When still -very young, green and tender, those containing the eggs are hardly as big as half -a grain of wheat. There is not food for so many feasters in so tiny a morsel; there -would not be enough for one. -</p> -<p>All mothers are provident. The exploiter of the mullein cannot have endowed her six -or more nurselings with such scanty possessions. For these various reasons, I doubt -at first whether these are <span class="pageNum" id="pb252">[<a href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>really the Cionus’ eggs. What follows is not calculated to decrease my hesitation. -The orange eggs hatch out, producing grubs which within twenty-four hours abandon -their exiguous natal chamber. They emerge through the orifice which has been left -open; they spread over the capsule, cropping its down, a pasture sufficient for their -first mouthfuls. They descend to the thin little twigs, which they strip of their -bark, and gradually move on to the small adjacent leaves, where the banquet is continued. -Let us leave them to grow. Their final transformation will tell me that I really have -the authentic larva of the Cionus before my eyes. -</p> -<p>They are bare, legless grubs, of a uniform pale yellow, excepting the head, which -is black, and the first segment of the thorax, which is adorned with two large black -spots. They are varnished all over their bodies with a glutinous humour, so much so -that they stick to the paint-brush used to collect them and are difficult to shake -off. When teased, they emit from the end of their intestine a viscous fluid, apparently -the origin of their varnish. -</p> -<p>They wander idly over the young twigs, whose bark they gnaw down to the wood; they -also browse on the leaves growing from the twigs, which are much smaller than those -upon the ground. Having found a good grazing-place, they stay there without moving, -curved into a bow and held in <span class="pageNum" id="pb253">[<a href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>position by their glue. Their walk is an undulating crawl, based upon the support -of their sticky behind. Helpless cripples, but coated with an adhesive varnish, they -are firmly enough fixed to resist a shake of the bough that bears them without falling -off. When you have no sort of grapnel to hold on by, the idea of clothing yourself -in glue, so that you may shift your position without danger of falling, even in a -gust of wind, is an original invention of which, as yet, I know no other instance. -</p> -<p>Our grubs are easily reared. Placed in a glass jar, with a few tender twigs of the -plant that feeds them, they go on browsing for some time and then make themselves -a pretty ampulla in which the transformation will take place. To observe this performance -and discover the method employed was the chief purpose of my inquiry. I succeeded, -though not without a great expenditure of assiduity. -</p> -<p>All its life long, the larva is smeared, on both its dorsal and its ventral surface, -with a viscous, colourless, strongly adhesive fluid. Touch the creature lightly, anywhere, -with the tip of a camel-hair pencil. The glutinous matter yields and draws out into -a thread of a certain length. Repeat the touch in the hot sunshine, in very dry weather. -The viscosity is not diminished. Our varnishes dry up; the grub’s does not; and this -is a property of the greatest value, enabling the feeble larva, without fear of being -shrivelled by the wind or <span class="pageNum" id="pb254">[<a href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>the rays of the sun, to adhere firmly to its food-plant, which loves the open air -and warm, sunny places. -</p> -<p>The laboratory producing this sticky varnish is easily discovered; we have only to -make the creature move along a slip of glass. We see from time to time a sort of treacly -dew oozing from the end of the intestine and lubricating the last segment. The glue -is therefore supplied by the digestive canal. Is there a special glandular laboratory -there, or is it the intestine itself that prepares the product? I will leave the question -unanswered, for nowadays I no longer have the steady hand or the keen sight required -for delicate dissection. The fact remains that the grub daubs itself with a glue of -which the end of the intestine is at least the storehouse, if it is not the actual -source. -</p> -<p>How is the sticky emission distributed over the whole body, both above and below? -The larva is a legless cripple; it moves about by obtaining a hold with its behind. -Moreover, it is well segmented. The back, in particular, has a series of fairly protuberant -cushions; the ventral surface, on the other hand, is puckered by knotty excrescences, -which change their shape considerably in the act of crawling. When moving, with the -flexible fore-part of the body groping to find its way, the grub consists of a series -of waves that follow one another in perfect order. -</p> -<p>Each wave starts from the hinder extremity <span class="pageNum" id="pb255">[<a href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>and by swift degrees reaches the head. Straightway a second wave follows in the same -direction, succeeded by a third, a fourth and so on, indefinitely. Each of these waves, -proceeding from one end of the grub to the other, is a step. So long as the wave continues, -the fulcrum, that is, the orifice of the intestine, remains in its place, at first -a little before and then a little behind the movement as a whole. Hence the source -of the sticky dew grazes first the tip of the abdomen and then the end of the back -of the moving grub. In this way the tiny drop of gum is deposited above and below. -</p> -<p>The glue has still to be distributed. This is done by crawling. Between the puckers, -the cushions, which the locomotory wave brings together and then separates, alternately -come into contact and open clefts into which the sticky fluid gradually makes its -way by capillary action. The grub clothes itself in glue without exercising any special -skill, merely by moving along. Each locomotory wave, each step, supplies its quota -to the viscous doublet. This makes up for the losses which the larva cannot fail to -suffer on the road as it roams from pasture to pasture; and, since the fresh material -balances the wastage of the old, a suitable coat is obtained, neither too thin nor -too thick. -</p> -<p>The complete coating is rapidly effected. With the tip of a camel-hair pencil, I wash -a grub in a <span class="pageNum" id="pb256">[<a href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>little water. The viscosity dissolves and disappears; and the water used for washing -the larva, evaporated on a slip of glass, leaves a mark like that of a weak solution -of gum arabic. I place the grub to dry on blotting-paper. When I now touch it with -a straw, it no longer sticks to it; it has lost its coating of varnish. -</p> -<p>How will it replace it? This is a very simple matter. I allow the grub to move about -at will for a few minutes. No more is needed; the layer of gum is restored; the creature -sticks to the straw that touches it. To sum up, the varnish with which the Cionus’ -larva is covered, is a viscous fluid, soluble in water, quickly emitted and extremely -slow to dry, even in an intensely hot sun and in the parching breath of the north-wind. -</p> -<p>Having obtained these data, let us see how the ampulla is constructed in which the -transformation will take place. On the 8th of July 1906, my son Paul, my zealous collaborator -now that my once sturdy legs are failing me, brings me, on returning from his morning -walk, a magnificent branching head of mullein peopled by the Cionus. It contains an -abundance of larva. Two of them in particular delight me: while the others stand browsing, -these two wander about restlessly, indifferent to their food. Beyond any doubt, they -are looking for a spot favourable to the process of the nymphosis. -</p> -<p>I place each of them singly in a small glass <span class="pageNum" id="pb257">[<a href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>tube which will allow me to observe them easily. In case they might find the food-plant -useful, I supply them with a sprig of mullein. And now, lens in hand, from morning -to evening and then by night, as far as drowsiness and the doubtful light of a candle -will permit, let us be on the alert; for very interesting things are about to happen. -Let me describe them hour by hour. -</p> -<p>8 <span class="asc">A.M.</span>—The larva is not making use of the twig with which I provided it. It is crawling -along the glass, darting its pointed head now this way, now that. With a gentle creeping -movement that causes an undulation of the back and belly, it is trying to settle itself -comfortably. After two hours of this effort, which is certain to be accompanied by -an emission of viscous fluid, it finds a position to its taste. -</p> -<p>10 <span class="asc">A.M.</span>—Being now fixed to the glass, the larva has shrunk into the semblance of a little -barrel, or a grain of wheat with rounded ends. At one end is a shining black speck. -This is the head, jammed into a fold of the first segment. The grub’s colour is unchanged: -it is still a dirty yellow. -</p> -<p>1 <span class="asc">P.M.</span>—A copious emission of fine black granules, followed by semifluid dejecta. To avoid -soiling its future residence and to prepare the intestine for the delicate chemistry -about to follow, the grub purges itself beforehand of its impurities. It is now a -uniform pale yellow, without the cloudy <span class="pageNum" id="pb258">[<a href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>markings that disfigured it at first. It is lying at full length on its ventral surface. -</p> -<p>3 <span class="asc">P.M.</span>—Under the skin, especially on the back, the lens reveals subtle pulsations, slight -tremors, like those of a liquid surface on the point of boiling. The dorsal vessel -itself is dilating and contracting, throughout its length, more actively than usual. -This means a fit of fever. Some internal change must be preparing, which will affect -the whole organism. Can it be the preparation for a moult? -</p> -<p>5 <span class="asc">P.M.</span>—No, for the grub is no longer motionless. It leaves its heap of dirt and begins to -move along impetuously, more restlessly than ever. What is happening that is in any -way unusual? I think I can obtain some idea of it with the aid of logic. -</p> -<p>Remember that the sticky coat in which the grub is clad does not dry up: this is a -condition indispensable to liberty of movement. If changed into a hard varnish, a -dry film, it would hamper, would indeed stop the crawling; but, so long as it remains -liquid, it is the drop of oil that lubricates the locomotory machine. This moist coating -will, however, constitute the material of the nymphosis-bladder: the fluid will become -gold-beater’s-skin, the liquid will solidify. -</p> -<p>This change of condition at first suggests oxidation. We must abandon this idea. If -the hardening were really the result of oxidization, the grub, being sticky from its -birth and always exposed to the air, would long ago have been clad not in a <span class="pageNum" id="pb259">[<a href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>delicate coat of adhesive, but in a stiff parchment sheath. Desiccation obviously -must take place at the last moment and rapidly, when the grub is preparing to change -its shape. Before then, this desiccation would be a danger; now, it is an excellent -means of defence. -</p> -<p>To ‘fix’ oil-paintings our ingenuity employs siccatives, that is to say, ingredients -that act upon the oil, giving it a resinous consistency. The Cionus likewise has its -siccative, as the following facts prove. It may be that the grub was labouring to -produce this desiccating substance, by some profound change in the process of its -organic laboratory, at the time when its poor flesh was quivering with feverish tremors; -it may be that it was proceeding to spread the siccative over the whole surface of -its body by taking a long walk, the last of its larval life. -</p> -<p>7 <span class="asc">P.M.</span>—The larva is once more motionless, lying flat on its belly. Is this the end of its -preparations? Not yet. The globular structure must have a foundation, a base on which -the grub can support itself in order to dilate its ampulla. -</p> -<p>8 <span class="asc">P.M.</span>—Round the head and the fore-part of the thorax, which, like the rest of the body, -are touching the slip of glass, a border of pure white now appears, as though snow -had fallen at these points. This forms a sort of horse-shoe enclosing an area in which -the snowy deposit is continued in a vague mist. From the base of this border <span class="pageNum" id="pb260">[<a href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>some threads of the same white substance radiate in short tufts. This structure denotes -work done with the mouth, a miniature wire-drawing. And in fact no such white substance -is seen anywhere except around the head. Thus the creature’s two ends take part in -the building of the hut: the one in front provides the foundations, the one behind -provides the edifice. -</p> -<p>10 <span class="asc">P.M.</span>—The larva shrinks. With its support, that is to say, its head anchored to the snowy -cushion, it brings its hinder end a little nearer; it coils up, hunches its back and -gradually turns itself into a ball. Though not yet perceptible, the ampulla is being -prepared. The siccative has taken effect; the original gumminess has been transformed -into a sort of skin, flexible enough at this moment to be distended by the pressure -of the back. When its capacity is large enough, the grub will become unglued, throw -off its envelope and find itself at liberty in a spacious enclosure. -</p> -<p>I should much like to see this peeling, but things happen so slowly as to drive one -to despair. Let us go to bed. What I have seen is enough to enable me to guess the -little that remains to be seen. -</p> -<p>Next day, when the pale dawn gives me sufficient light, I hasten to my two larvæ. -The bladder is completed. It is a graceful ovoid of the finest gold-beater’s-skin, -adhering at no point to the insect inside. It has taken some twenty hours to manufacture. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb261">[<a href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>It has still to be strengthened with a lining. The transparency of the wall enables -us to follow the operation. -</p> -<p>We see the grub’s little black head rising and falling, swerving this way and that -and from time to time gathering with its mandibles, at the door of the intestine, -a particle of cement, which is instantly placed in position and meticulously smoothed. -So the interior of the hut is plastered, point after point, by small touches. Lest -I should not see clearly through the wall, I cut off the top of a bladder, partly -uncovering the larva. The work is continued without much hesitation. The strange method -is revealed as plainly as one could wish. The grub makes use of its behind as a store -of consolidating cement; the end of the intestine serves as the equivalent of the -hod from which the bricklayer takes his trowelful of mortar. -</p> -<p>This original mode of procedure is familiar to me. At one time, a big Weevil, the -Spotted Larinus, inhabiting the blue-headed globe-thistle (<i lang="la">Echinops Ritro</i>), enabled me to witness a similar method. The Larinus also expels its own cement. -With the tips of its mandibles it gathers it from the evacuating orifice, applying -it with strict economy. Moreover it has other materials at its disposal, the hairs -and remnants of the florets of its thistle. Its cement is used only to plaster and -glaze the work. The Cionus’ larva, on the other hand, employs nothing but the oozings -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb262">[<a href="#pb262">262</a>]</span>its intestine; consequently the little hut resulting is of incomparable perfection. -</p> -<p>Besides the Spotted Larinus, my notes mention other Weevils, for instance, the Garlic-weevil -(<i lang="la">Brachycerus algirus</i>), whose larvæ possess the art of coating their cells with a thin glaze provided by -the rump. This intestinal artifice seems, therefore, to be pretty frequently employed -by the Weevils that build little chambers in which the metamorphosis is to take place; -but none of them excel in it as does the Cionus. Its task becomes yet more interesting -when we consider that, in the same factory, after a very brief interval, three different -products are compounded: first a liquid glue, a means of adhesion to the swaying support -of the mullein lashed by the winds; then a siccative fluid which transforms the sticky -coating into gold-beater’s-skin; and lastly a cement which strengthens the bladder -separated from the larva by a sort of moult. What a laboratory, what exquisite chemistry -in a scrap of intestine! -</p> -<p>What use are these minute details, noted hour by hour? Why these puerilities? What -matters to us the industry of a wretched grub, hardly known even to the professional -experts? -</p> -<p>Well, these puerilities involve the most weighty problems that we are privileged to -discuss. Is the world an harmonious creation, governed by a primordial force, a <i lang="la">causa causarum</i>? Or is it a chaos of blind conflicting forces, whose reciprocal <span class="pageNum" id="pb263">[<a href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>thrusts produce a chance equilibrium, for better or for worse? Minute entomological -details examined with some thoroughness, may serve us better than syllogisms, in the -scientific investigation of these trifles and others like them. The humble Cionus, -for its part, tells us of a primordial force, the motive power of the smallest as -of the greatest things. -</p> -<p>A day is not too long to give the bladder a good lining. Next day the larva moults -and passes into the nymphal state. Let us complete its story with the data gleaned -in the fields. The cocoons are often found on the grass near the food-plant, on the -stalks and dead blades of the Gramineæ. Generally, however, they occupy the little -twigs of the mullein, stripped of their bark and withered. The adult insect emerges -sooner or later in September. The gold-beater’s-skin capsule is not torn irregularly, -at random; it is neatly divided into two equal parts, like the two halves of a soap-box. -</p> -<p>Has the enclosed insect gnawed the casing with its patient tooth and made a fissure -along the equator? No, for the edges of either hemisphere are perfectly clean-cut. -There must, therefore, have been a circular line ready to facilitate the opening. -All that the insect had to do was to hunch its back and give a slight push, in order -to unfasten the roof of its cabin all in one piece and set itself free. -</p> -<p>I can just see this line of easy rupture on certain <span class="pageNum" id="pb264">[<a href="#pb264">264</a>]</span>intact capsules. It is a faint line ringing the equator. What does the insect do beforehand -to contrive that its cell shall open in this way? A humble plant, flowering early -in the spring, the blue or scarlet pimpernel, has also its soap-box, its pyxidium, -which splits easily into two hemispheres when the time comes for the seed to be scattered. -In either case it is the work of an unconscious ingenuity. The grub does not plan -its methods any more than the pimpernel: it has hit upon its ingenious scheme of joining -the halves of its capsule by the inspiration of instinct alone. -</p> -<p>More numerous than the capsules which burst accurately are others which are clumsily -torn by a shapeless breach. Through this some parasite must have emerged, some ruthless -creature which, unacquainted with the secret of the delicate joint, has released itself -by tearing the gold-beater’s-skin. I find its larva in cells which are not yet perforated. -It is a small, white grub, fixed to a discoloured tit-bit which is all that remains -of the Cionus’ nymph. The intruder is sucking dry the rightful occupant, whose budding -flesh is still quite tender. I think I can identify the murderess as a bandit of the -Chalcid tribe, which is addicted to such massacres. -</p> -<p>Her appearance and her gluttonous ways have not misled me. My rearing-jars provide -me with abundant supplies of a small bronze-coloured <span class="pageNum" id="pb265">[<a href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>Chalcid with a large head and a round, tapering body, but with no visible boring-tool. -To inquire her name of the experts will not help me much. I do not ask the insect, -‘what are you called?’ but ‘what are you able to do?’ -</p> -<p>The anonymous parasite hatched in my jars has no implement similar to that of the -Leucospis,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3084src" href="#xd31e3084">2</a> the chief of the Chalcididæ; it has no probe which is able to penetrate a wall and -place the egg, at some distance, on the food-ration. Her germ, therefore, was laid -in the very flanks of the Cionus’ larva, before the latter had built its shell. -</p> -<p>The methods of these tiny brigands appointed to the task of thinning out the too numerous -are extremely varied. Each guild has its own method, which is always horribly effective. -How should so small a creature as the Cionus cumber the earth? No matter: it has to -be massacred, to perish in its cradle, a victim of the Chalcid. Like other creatures, -the peaceful dwarf must furnish its share of organizable matter, which will be further -and further refined as it passes from stomach to stomach. -</p> -<p>Let us recapitulate the habits of the Cionus, very strange habits in an insect of -the Weevil series. The mother entrusts her eggs to the swelling capsules of the scallop-leaved -mullein. So far, everything is according to rule. Other Weevils, as a matter of fact, -prefer, when setting <span class="pageNum" id="pb266">[<a href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>their children up in life, the pods of some other mullein, or those of the figwort -or of the snap-dragon, two plants belonging to one and the same botanical family. -But now we are suddenly confronted with the strange and exceptional. The mother Cionus -chooses the mullein with the smallest capsules, whereas in the neighbourhood and at -the same season there are others loaded with fruit whose dimensions would provide -spacious lodgings and abundance of food. She prefers dearth to plenty and narrow to -spacious quarters. -</p> -<p>Worse still. Indifferent to leaving provision for her brood, she nibbles the tender -seeds, destroys them, extirpates them, in order to obtain a cavity in the heart of -the tiny globule. Into this she slips more or less half a dozen eggs. With the edible -substance left, were the whole cell to be consumed, there would not be enough to feed -a single grub. -</p> -<p>When the bread-pan is empty, the house is deserted. The young abandon their famine-stricken -dwelling on the day when they are hatched. They are bold innovators and practise a -method which is held in detestation among the Weevils, who are all pre-eminently stay-at-homes: -they dare the dangers of the outer world: they travel, passing from one leaf to another -in search of food. This strange exodus, unprecedented in a Weevil, is not a mere caprice -but a necessity imposed on them by hunger; they migrate because their mother has not -provided them with anything to eat. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb267">[<a href="#pb267">267</a>]</span></p> -<p>If travelling has its pleasures, enough to make the insect forget the delights of -the cell in which it digests at peace, it also has its drawbacks. The legless grub -can progress only by a sort of creeping gait. It has no instrument of adherence which -will enable it to remain fixed to the twig, whence the least breath of wind may make -it fall. Necessity is the mother of invention. To guard against the danger of falling, -the wanderer smears itself with a viscous fluid, which varnishes it and makes it adhere -to the trail which it is following. -</p> -<p>But this is not all. When the ticklish moment of the nymphosis arrives, a retreat -in which the grub can undergo its transformation in peace becomes indispensable. The -vagabond has nothing of the sort. It is homeless, it sleeps in the open air; yet it -is able, when the time comes, to make itself a tent, a capsule, the materials for -which are supplied by its intestine. No other insect of its order can build a home -like this. Let us hope that the hateful Chalcid, the murderer of nymphs, will not -visit it in its pretty little tent. -</p> -<p>The grub that lives on the scallop-leaved mullein has shown an utter revolution in -the habits of the Weevil clan. The better to judge of this, let us consult a cognate -species, placed not far from the Cionus by the classifiers; let us compare the two -kinds of life, on the one hand the exception and on the other the rule. The comparison -will be all the more useful inasmuch as the new witness also <span class="pageNum" id="pb268">[<a href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>exploits a mullein. It is known as <i lang="la">Gymnetron thapsicola</i>, <span class="sc">Germ.</span> -</p> -<p>Dressed in russet homespun, with a plump round body and about the size of the Cionus: -there you have the creature. Note the qualifying <i lang="la">thapsicola</i>, meaning an inhabitant of the thapsus. On this occasion, I am glad to see, the term -could not possibly be happier: it enables the novice to identify the insect exactly, -without other data than the name of the plant on which it lives. -</p> -<p>The botanist gives the name of <i lang="la">Verbascum thapsus</i> to the common mullein, or shepherd’s club, a lover of the tilled fields in both the -north and the south. Its bloom, instead of branching out like that of the scallop-leaved -mullein, consists of one thick cone of yellow flowers. These flowers are followed -by close-packed capsules about as big as a fair-sized olive. Here we no longer have -the niggardly pods in which the grub of the Cionus would die of starvation if it did -not abandon them as soon as it is hatched; these caskets contain plenty of victuals -for one larva and even for two. A partition divides them into two equal compartments, -both of them crammed with seeds. -</p> -<p>The fancy took me to estimate roughly the mullein’s wealth of seeds. I have counted -as many as 321 in a single shell. Now a spike of ordinary size contains 150 capsules. -The total number of seeds is therefore 48,000. What can the plant want with such abundance? -Allowing <span class="pageNum" id="pb269">[<a href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>for the small number of seeds required to maintain the species in a thriving state, -it is evident that the mullein is a hoarder of nutritive atoms; it creates foodstuffs; -it summons guests to its opulent banquet. -</p> -<p>Knowing these facts, the Gymnetron, from May onwards, visits the luxuriant flower-spike -and there installs her grubs. The inhabited capsules may be recognized by the brown -speck at their base. This is the hole bored by the mother’s rostrum, the aperture -needed for inserting the eggs. Usually there are two, corresponding with the two cells -of the fruit. Soon the oozings from the cell set hard and dry and obstruct the tiny -window; and the capsule is closed again, without any communication with the outer -world. -</p> -<p>In June and July, let us open the shells marked with brown specks. Nearly always we -find two grubs, looking fat as butter, with their fore-parts swollen and their hinder -parts shrunken and curved like a comma. Not a vestige of legs, which members would -be very useless in such a lodging. Lying at its ease, the grub has plenty of food -ready to its mouth: first the tender, sugary seeds; then the placenta, their common -support, which is likewise fleshy and highly flavoured. It is pleasant to live under -such conditions, motionless and devoting one’s self entirely to the joys of the stomach. -</p> -<p>It would take a cataclysm to upset the smug <span class="pageNum" id="pb270">[<a href="#pb270">270</a>]</span>hermit. This cataclysm I bring about by opening the cell. Then and there, the grub -begins to twist and wriggle desperately, hating any exposure to the air and light. -It takes more than an hour to recover from its excitement. Here assuredly is a grub -that will never be tempted to leave its home and go wandering about like the Cionus’ -larva. It is most highly domestic by inheritance and domestic it will remain. -</p> -<p>It refuses even to go next door. In the same capsule, on the other side of the partition, -a neighbour is nibbling away. Never does it pay the neighbour a visit, though it could -easily do so by perforating the partition, which at this moment is an actual sort -of cake, no less tender than the seeds and the placenta. Each holds the other’s share -of the capsule inviolable. On the one hand is one grub; on the other hand is another; -and never do the two hold the least communication through the little skylight. A grub’s -home is its castle. -</p> -<p>The Gymnetron is so happy in her cell that she stays there a long time after assuming -her adult form. For ten months out of the twelve she does not leave it. In April, -when the buds of the new twigs are swelling, she pierces the natal capsule, now a -mighty donjon; she comes out and revels in the sun on the recent flower-spikes, which -grow daily longer and thicker; she frisks in couples and, in May, establishes her -family, which will <span class="pageNum" id="pb271">[<a href="#pb271">271</a>]</span>obstinately repeat the sedentary habits of the elders. -</p> -<p>With these data before us, let us philosophize awhile. Every Weevil spends its larval -life on the spot where the egg was laid. Various larvæ, it is true, when the time -of metamorphosis approaches, migrate and make their way underground. The Brachycerus -abandons its clove of garlic, the Balaninus its nut or acorn, the Rhynchites its vine-leaf -or poplar-leaf cigar, the Ceuthorhynchus its cabbage stalk. But these instances of -desertion on the part of grubs which have attained their full growth do not in any -way invalidate the rule: all Weevil-larvæ grow up in the actual place where they are -born. -</p> -<p>Now here, by a most unexpected change of tactics, the Cionus-grub, while still quite -young, quits its natal cell, the capsule of the mullein; it longs for the outer world, -that it may browse in the open air on the bark of a twig; and this entails upon it -two inventions elsewhere unknown: the sticky coat, which gives it a firm hold when -it moves from place to place, and the gold-beater’s-skin ampulla, which serves to -house the nymph. -</p> -<p>What is the cause of this aberration? Two theories are suggested, one based on decadence, -the other on progress. Of old, we tell ourselves, the mother Cionus, far back in the -ages, used to obey the conventions of her tribe. Like the other Weevils that munch -unripe seeds, she favoured <span class="pageNum" id="pb272">[<a href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>large capsules, enough to feed a sedentary family. Later, by inadvertence or flightiness -or for some other reason, she turned her attention to the stingy scollop-leaved mullein. -Faithful to ancient custom she rightly chose for her domain a plant of the same family -as that which she first exploited; but it unfortunately happens that the mullein adopted -is incapable of feeding a single grub in its fruit, which is too small for the purpose. -The mother’s ineptitude has led to decadence; the perils of a wandering life have -taken the place of a peaceful, sedentary existence. The species is on the high road -to extinction. -</p> -<p>Again, we might argue as follows, at the outset, the Cionus had the scallop-leaved -mullein as her portion; but, since the grubs do not thrive when thus installed, the -mother is searching for a better means of setting them up in life. Gradual experiment -will one day show her the way. From time to time, indeed, I find her on <i lang="la">Vervascum maiale</i> or <i lang="la">Verbascum thapsus</i>, both of which have large capsules; only she is there by accident, in the course -of a trip, thinking of obtaining a good drink and not of laying her eggs. Sooner or -later, the future will establish her there for the sake of her family. The species -is in process of improvement. -</p> -<p>By dressing up the matter in uncouth phrases, calculated to conceal the vagueness -of the thought behind them, we might represent the Cionus as <span class="pageNum" id="pb273">[<a href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>a magnificent example of the changes which the centuries bring about in the habits -of insects. This would sound extremely learned, but would it be very intelligible? -I doubt it. When my eyes fall upon a page bristling with barbarous and so-called scientific -locution, I say to myself: -</p> -<p>‘Take care! The author has not quite grasped what he is saying, or he would have found, -in the vocabulary hammered out by so many brilliant minds, words that would express -his thought more plainly.’ -</p> -<p>Boileau,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3158src" href="#xd31e3158">3</a> who has been denied poetic inspiration, but who certainly possessed common-sense -and plenty of it, tells us: -</p> -<p>‘<i lang="fr">Ce que l’on conçoit bien s’énonce clairement.</i>’<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3171src" href="#xd31e3171">4</a> -</p> -<p>Just so, Nicolas! Yes, clearness, clearness always! He calls a spade a spade. Let -us do as he does, let us qualify as gibberish any over-learned prose that reminds -us of Voltaire’s witty sally: -</p> -<p>‘When the listener does not understand and the speaker does not himself know what -he is saying, then they are talking metaphysics.’ -</p> -<p>‘And advanced science,’ let us add. -</p> -<p>We will confine ourselves to stating the problem of the Cionus, without much hope -that some day it will be clearly solved. For that matter, if the <span class="pageNum" id="pb274">[<a href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>truth be told, it may be that there is no problem at all. The grub of the Cionus was -a vagabond in the beginning and a vagabond it will remain, among the other Weevil-grubs, -which are all essentially stay-at-home larvæ. Let us leave it at that: it is the simplest -and most lucid explanation. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb275">[<a href="#pb275">275</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2910"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2910src">1</a></span> The essays on <i lang="la">Minotaurus typhæus</i> will appear in the next volume of the series, to be entitled <i>Mere Beetles</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2910src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3084"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3084src">2</a></span> <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chaps. ii. and iii.—<i>Translators Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3084src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3158"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3158src">3</a></span> Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux (1636–1711), author of <i lang="fr">L’Art poétique</i> and other poetical, critical and satirical works.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3158src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3171"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3171src">4</a></span> ‘That which is well conceived is also clearly stated.’ <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3171src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="back"> -<div id="ix" class="div1 index"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e393">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Index</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">A</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Acorn-weevil (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.elephant.weevil">Elephant Weevil</a>). -</p> -<p>Agrippa, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>, <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.anthidium">Anthidium, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>. -</p> -<p>Antony (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.mark.antony">Mark Antony</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Apoderus coryli</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.apoderus.of.the.hazel">Apoderus of the Hazel</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.apoderus.of.the.hazel">Apoderus of the Hazel, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>–142, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>, <a href="#pb149" class="pageref">149</a>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>. -</p> -<p>Aristophanes, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.artichoke-weevil">Artichoke-weevil, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>, <a href="#pb69" class="pageref">69</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Attelabus curculionoides</i>, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb148" class="pageref">148</a>, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>, <a href="#pb152" class="pageref">152</a>, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.augustus">Augustus, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">B</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Balaninus (<i>see</i> the varieties below). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Balaninus elephas</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.elephant.weevil">Elephant Weevil</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Balaninus nucum</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.nut-weevil">Nut-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p>Bear (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.cave-bear">Cave-bear</a>), <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.bear.larinus">Bear Larinus, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>, <a href="#pb46" class="pageref">46</a>, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>, <a href="#pb67" class="pageref">67</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="fr">Bécaru</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.vine-weevil">Vine-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p>Black, Adam and Charles, <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p>Blackbird, <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>, <a href="#pb89" class="pageref">89</a>. -</p> -<p>Bluebottle, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>. -</p> -<p>Boileau-Despréaux, Nicolas, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.bolbites.onitoides"><i lang="la">Bolbites onitoides</i>, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.bombyx">Bombyx, <a href="#pb131" class="pageref">131</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.brachycerus.algirus"><i lang="la">Brachycerus algirus</i>, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb175" class="pageref">175</a>, <a href="#pb262" class="pageref">262</a>, <a href="#pb271" class="pageref">271</a>. -</p> -<p>Bruchus (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.haricot-weevil">Haricot-weevil</a>, Pea-weevil). -</p> -<p>Burying-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus</a>). -</p> -<p>Butterfly (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb61" class="pageref">61</a>, <a href="#pb62" class="pageref">62</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">C</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Cabbage Butterfly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.large.white.butterfly">Large White Butterfly</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.capricorn">Capricorn, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>, <a href="#pb34" class="pageref">34</a>, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a>, <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.carabus">Carabus, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Carcharodon megalodon</i>, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.cave-bear">Cave-bear, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerambyx heros</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.capricorn">Capricorn</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.cerceris">Cerceris, <a href="#pb63" class="pageref">63</a>, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>. -</p> -<p>Cetonia (<i>see</i> <i lang="la">C. floricola</i>, Rose-chafer). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cetonia floricola</i>, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb62" class="pageref">62</a>, <a href="#pb175" class="pageref">175</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>. -</p> -<p>Ceuthorhynchus, <a href="#pb271" class="pageref">271</a>. -</p> -<p>Chalcid, <a href="#pb212" class="pageref">212</a>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>, <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a>. -</p> -<p>Chalcis, <a href="#pb210" class="pageref">210</a>, <a href="#pb211" class="pageref">211</a>. -</p> -<p>Chalicodoma (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.mason-bee">Mason-bee</a>). -</p> -<p>Cicada, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a>, <a href="#pb235" class="pageref">235</a>. -</p> -<p>Cionus (<i>see</i> <i><a href="#ix.cionus.thapsus">Cionus thapsus</a></i>). -</p> -<p id="ix.cionus.thapsus"><i lang="la">Cionus thapsus</i>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>, <a href="#pb248" class="pageref">248</a>, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb251" class="pageref">251</a>, <a href="#pb252" class="pageref">252</a>, <a href="#pb256" class="pageref">256</a>, <a href="#pb259" class="pageref">259</a>, <a href="#pb262" class="pageref">262</a>, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>, <a href="#pb271" class="pageref">271</a>, <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>. -</p> -<p>Clam (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.surf.clam">Surf Clam</a>). -</p> -<p>Cleopatra, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb276">[<a href="#pb276">276</a>]</span></p> -<p>Cockchafer (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pine.cockchafer">Pine Cockchafer</a>). -</p> -<p>Columella, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>. -</p> -<p>Conus, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.copris">Copris, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a> (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.spanish.copris">Spanish Copris</a>). -</p> -<p>Corn-weevil, <a href="#pb187" class="pageref">187</a>, <a href="#pb228" class="pageref">228</a>. -</p> -<p>Cotton-bee (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.anthidium">Anthidium</a>). -</p> -<p><i>Courcoussoun</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.haricot-weevil">Haricot-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p>Cricket, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>. -</p> -<p>Crocodile, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a>, <a href="#pb17" class="pageref">17</a>. -</p> -<p>Cuckoo, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>. -</p> -<p>Cytherida, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">D</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Dove, <a href="#pb16" class="pageref">16</a>. -</p> -<p>Dung-beetle, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb63" class="pageref">63</a>, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a> (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.bolbites.onitoides">Bolbites</a>, <a href="#ix.copris">Copris</a>, <a href="#ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus</a>, <a href="#ix.onitis">Onitis</a>, <a href="#ix.onthophagus">Onthophagus</a>, <a href="#ix.phanaeus">Phanæus</a>, Sacred Beetle). -</p> -<p>Dytiscus, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">E</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Edible Snail (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.large.edible.snail">Large Edible Snail</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.elephant.weevil">Elephant Weevil, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>, <a href="#pb97" class="pageref">97</a>, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">F</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Falcon, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>. -</p> -<p>Field-mouse, <a href="#pb87" class="pageref">87</a>, <a href="#pb88" class="pageref">88</a>, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a>. -</p> -<p>Fly, <a href="#pb13" class="pageref">13</a>, <a href="#pb114" class="pageref">114</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">G</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Garlic-weevil (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.brachycerus.algirus">Brachycerus algirus</a></i>). -</p> -<p id="ix.gnat">Gnat, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>, <a href="#pb13" class="pageref">13</a>. -</p> -<p>Grasshopper, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a>, <a href="#pb91" class="pageref">91</a>, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.great.water-beetle">Great Water-beetle, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.green.lizard">Green Lizard, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>. -</p> -<p>Ground-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.carabus">Carabus</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Gymnetron thapsicola</i>, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a>, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>. -</p> -<p>Gyrinus (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.whirligig.beetle">Whirligig Beetle</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">H</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.haricot-weevil" class="first">Haricot-weevil, <a href="#pb190" class="pageref">190</a>, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>, <a href="#pb230" class="pageref">230</a>. -</p> -<p>Hedgehog, <a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Helix pomatia</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.large.edible.snail">Large Edible Snail</a>). -</p> -<p>Heredia, José Maria de, <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>. -</p> -<p>Hunting Wasp (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cerceris">Cerceris</a>, Sphex). -</p> -<p>Hydrophilus (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.great.water-beetle">Great Water-beetle</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">I</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Ichneumon-fly, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a>, <a href="#pb93" class="pageref">93</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.iris-weevil">Iris-weevil, <a href="#pb237" class="pageref">237</a>, <a href="#pb238" class="pageref">238</a>, <a href="#pb240" class="pageref">240</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">L</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">La Fontaine, Jean de, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Lamia denticulata</i>, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.large.edible.snail">Large Edible Snail, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.large.white.butterfly">Large White Butterfly, <a href="#pb61" class="pageref">61</a>, <a href="#pb62" class="pageref">62</a>. -</p> -<p>Larinus (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a>, <a href="#pb19" class="pageref">19</a>, and <i>seq.</i> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Larinus conspersus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.spangled.larinus">Spangled Larinus</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Larinus maculosus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.spotted.larinus">Spotted Larinus</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Larinus scolymi</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.artichoke-weevil">Artichoke-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Larinus stolatus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.stoled.larinus">Stoled Larinus</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Larinus ursus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bear.larinus">Bear Larinus</a>). -</p> -<p>Leucospis, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a>, <a href="#pb91" class="pageref">91</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>. -</p> -<p>Lithodomus, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>. -</p> -<p>Lizard (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.green.lizard">Green Lizard</a>). -</p> -<p>Louse (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.phylloxera">Phylloxera</a>). -<span class="pageNum" id="pb277">[<a href="#pb277">277</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">M</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Macmillan Co., <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p>Mactra, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.mark.antony">Mark Antony, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.mason-bee">Mason-bee, <a href="#pb91" class="pageref">91</a>. -</p> -<p>Mastodon, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>. -</p> -<p>Miall, Bernard, <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p>Midge, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>. -</p> -<p>Minotaur (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.minotaurus.typhaeus">Minotaurus typhæus</a></i>). -</p> -<p id="ix.minotaurus.typhaeus"><i lang="la">Minotaurus typhæus</i>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>. -</p> -<p>Mitre-shell (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.turritella">Turritella</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Mononychus pseudo-acori</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.iris-weevil">Iris-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p>Mosquito (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.gnat">Gnat</a>), <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">N</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.necrophorus" class="first">Necrophorus, <a href="#pb60" class="pageref">60</a>, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Notidanus primigenius</i>, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.nut-weevil">Nut-weevil, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>, <a href="#pb95" class="pageref">95</a>, <a href="#pb97" class="pageref">97</a>, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>, <a href="#pb159" class="pageref">159</a>, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">O</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Octavius (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.augustus">Augustus</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.onitis">Onitis, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.onthophagus">Onthophagus, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>. -</p> -<p>Ovid, <a href="#pb218" class="pageref">218</a>. -</p> -<p>Ox, <a href="#pb202" class="pageref">202</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Oxyrhina xyphodon</i>, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>. -</p> -<p>Oyster, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">P</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Pea weevil, <a href="#pb187" class="pageref">187</a>, <a href="#pb190" class="pageref">190</a>, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a>, <a href="#pb199" class="pageref">199</a>, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>, <a href="#pb203" class="pageref">203</a>, <a href="#pb204" class="pageref">204</a>, <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>, <a href="#pb208" class="pageref">208</a>, <a href="#pb210" class="pageref">210</a>, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>, <a href="#pb233" class="pageref">233</a>, <a href="#pb240" class="pageref">240</a>, <a href="#pb241" class="pageref">241</a>. -</p> -<p>Petricola, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.phanaeus">Phanæus (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.phanaeus.milon">Phanæus Milon</a></i>, Splendid Phanæus). -</p> -<p id="ix.phanaeus.milon"><i lang="la">Phanæus Milon</i>, <a href="#pb160" class="pageref">160</a>, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>. -</p> -<p><i>Pholas</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.piddock">Piddock</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.phylloxera">Phylloxera, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.piddock">Piddock, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>. -</p> -<p>Pieris (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.large.white.butterfly">Large White Butterfly</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.pig">Pig, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>, <a href="#pb88" class="pageref">88</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.pine.cockchafer">Pine Cockchafer, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>, <a href="#pb59" class="pageref">59</a>, <a href="#pb61" class="pageref">61</a>, <a href="#pb62" class="pageref">62</a>. -</p> -<p>Plautus, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>. -</p> -<p>Pliny the Elder, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>. -</p> -<p>Pliny the Younger, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.poplar-weevil">Poplar-weevil, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>, <a href="#pb129" class="pageref">129</a>, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>, <a href="#pb155" class="pageref">155</a>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>. -</p> -<p>Porker (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pig">Pig</a>). -</p> -<p>Puma, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">R</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Raspail, François Vincent, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>. -</p> -<p>Rat, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>. -</p> -<p>Resin-bee (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.anthidium">Anthidium</a>). -</p> -<p>Rhynchites (<i>see</i> the varieties below). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Rhynchites auratus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.sloe-weevil">Sloe-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Rhynchites Bacchus</i>, <a href="#pb159" class="pageref">159</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Rhynchites betuleti</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.vine-weevil">Vine-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Rhynchites populi</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.poplar-weevil">Poplar-weevil</a>). -</p> -<p>Rhynchophora, <a href="#pb13" class="pageref">13</a>, <a href="#pb190" class="pageref">190</a>. -</p> -<p>Robin Redbreast, <a href="#pb16" class="pageref">16</a>. -</p> -<p>Rose-chafer, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>, <a href="#pb79" class="pageref">79</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.rotifer">Rotifer, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">S</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Saw-fly, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a>. -</p> -<p>Scallop, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -<p>Sea-urchin, <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a>, <a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a>. -</p> -<p>Shark, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>. -</p> -<p>Sheep, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a>, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb278">[<a href="#pb278">278</a>]</span></p> -<p>Silk-worm Moth (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bombyx">Bombyx</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.sloe-weevil">Sloe-weevil, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>, <a href="#pb158" class="pageref">158</a>, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a>. -</p> -<p>Snail (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.large.edible.snail">Large Edible Snail</a>), <a href="#pb143" class="pageref">143</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.spangled.larinus">Spangled Larinus, <a href="#pb54" class="pageref">54</a>, <a href="#pb69" class="pageref">69</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.spanish.copris">Spanish Copris, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a>, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a>. -</p> -<p>Sphex, <a href="#pb60" class="pageref">60</a>, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.spotted.larinus">Spotted Larinus, <a href="#pb21" class="pageref">21</a>, <a href="#pb28" class="pageref">28</a>, <a href="#pb30" class="pageref">30</a>, <a href="#pb39" class="pageref">39</a>, <a href="#pb46" class="pageref">46</a>, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>, <a href="#pb261" class="pageref">261</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.stoled.larinus">Stoled Larinus, <a href="#pb44" class="pageref">44</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.surf.clam">Surf Clam, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">T</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Teixeira de Mattos, Alexander, <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p>Tortoise, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a>. -</p> -<p>Tree-frog, <a href="#pb236" class="pageref">236</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.turritella">Turritella, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">U</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Unwin, T. Fisher, Ltd., <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ursus spelæus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cave-bear">Cave-bear</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">V</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Vanessa, <a href="#pb61" class="pageref">61</a>, <a href="#pb62" class="pageref">62</a>. -</p> -<p>Varro, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.vine-weevil">Vine-weevil, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>, <a href="#pb128" class="pageref">128</a>, <a href="#pb129" class="pageref">129</a>, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>, <a href="#pb155" class="pageref">155</a>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>. -</p> -<p>Virgil, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>. -</p> -<p>Vitruvius, <a href="#pb36" class="pageref">36</a>. -</p> -<p>Voltaire, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">W</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Water-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.great.water-beetle">Great Water-beetle</a>). -</p> -<p>Wheel Animalcule (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.rotifer">Rotifer</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.whirligig.beetle">Whirligig Beetle, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>. -</p> -<p>White Butterfly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.large.white.butterfly">Large White Butterfly</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 imprint"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e4761">Printed in Great Britain by <span class="sc">T.</span> and <span class="sc">A. Constable Ltd.</span> at the Edinburgh University Press -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="transcriberNote"> -<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> -<h3 class="main">Availability</h3> -<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 <a class="seclink xd31e44" title="External link" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/" rel="home">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</p> -<p>This eBook is produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="seclink xd31e44" title="External link" href="https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>. -</p> -<h3 class="main">Metadata</h3> -<table class="colophonMetadata" summary="Metadata"> -<tr> -<td><b>Title:</b></td> -<td>The life of the weevil</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Author:</b></td> -<td>Jean-Henri-Casimir Fabre (1823–1915)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/51689251/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Translator:</b></td> -<td>Alexander Teixeira de Mattos (1865–1921)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/55502069/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Language:</b></td> -<td>English</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Original publication date:</b></td> -<td>1922</td> -<td></td> -</tr> </table> -<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> -<ul> -<li>2021-11-25 Started. </li> -</ul> -<h3 class="main">External References</h3> -<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. 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