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-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.’
-
-
-
-
-
-
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