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-} -.works { -text-align:center; -} -.xd31e123 { -text-align:right; -} -.titlepage-imagewidth { -width:432px; -} -.xd31e227 { -text-align:center; font-size:small; -} -.xd31e272 { -font-size:x-small; -} -.xd31e3035 { -text-indent:2em; -} -.xd31e3049 { -text-indent:8em; -} -@media handheld { -} -/* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hunting Wasps, by Jean-Henri Fabre</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Hunting Wasps</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jean-Henri Fabre</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 5, 2022 [eBook #67110]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>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)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTING WASPS ***</div> -<div class="front"> -<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="Original Front Cover." width="533" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e117">THE HUNTING WASPS -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 advertisement works"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">‘The Insects’ Homer’ -</p> -<p class="xd31e123"><i>Maurice Maeterlinck.</i> -</p> -<p><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3422">THE LIFE OF THE FLY</a><br> -Translated by<br> -<span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</span>, F.Z.S.<br> -<i>6s. net.</i> -</p> -<p><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1887">THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER</a><br> -Translated by<br> -<span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</span>, F.Z.S.<br> -With a Preface by <span class="sc">Maurice Maeterlinck</span>.<br> -<i>6s. net.</i> -</p> -<p><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2884">THE MASON-BEES</a><br> -Translated by<br> -<span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</span>, F.Z.S.<br> -<i>6s. net.</i> -</p> -<p><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3421">BRAMBLE-BEES AND OTHERS</a><br> -Translated by<br> -<span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</span>, F.Z.S.<br> -<i>6s. net.</i> -</p> -<p>LONDON: HODDER AND STOUGHTON -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="432" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="titlePage"> -<div class="docTitle"> -<div class="seriesTitle orange">THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE</div> -<div class="mainTitle">THE<br> -HUNTING WASPS</div> -</div> -<div class="byline">BY<br> -<span class="docAuthor orange">J. HENRI FABRE</span> -<br> -<i>Translated by</i><br> -<span class="docAuthor">ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS, <abbr title="Fellow of the Zoological Society">F.Z.S.</abbr></span></div> -<div class="docImprint"><span class="orange">HODDER AND STOUGHTON</span><br> -LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO</div> -</div> -<p></p> -<div class="div1 copyright"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e227"><i>Copyright in the United States of America,<br> -1916, by Dodd, Mead & Co.</i> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.v">[<a href="#pb.v">v</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="translator" class="div1 preface"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e276">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Translator’s Note</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Henri Fabre’s essays on Wasps will fill three volumes in all, of which this is the -first. The others will be entitled <i>The Mason-Wasps</i> and <i>More Hunting Wasps</i>. The former will include the chapters on the Common or Social Wasp. -</p> -<p>The first seventeen chapters of the present book appeared some years ago, wholly or -in part, in a version of vol. i. of the <i lang="fr">Souvenirs Entomologiques</i> prepared by the author of <i>Mademoiselle Mori</i> for Messrs. Macmillan and Co., by arrangement with whom I am now permitted to retranslate -and republish them for the purpose of this collected and definite edition of Fabre’s -entomological works. Of the remainder, ‘The Modern Theory of Instinct’ first saw the -light in the <i>English Review</i>, and ‘An Unknown Sense,’ in an abbreviated form, in the <i>Daily Mail</i>. -</p> -<p>It is a pleasure once more to express my thanks to Miss Frances Rodwell, who, as usual, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.vi">[<a href="#pb.vi">vi</a>]</span>has rendered me much valuable assistance, and to Mr. Geoffrey Meade-Waldo, of the -Natural History Museum, who has been kind enough to set me right on many an entomological -point. -</p> -<p class="signed"><span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.</span> -</p> -<p class="dateline"><span class="sc">Chelsea, 1916.</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.vii">[<a href="#pb.vii">vii</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Contents</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"> <span class="tocPageNum xd31e272">PAGE</span> -</p> -<p><a href="#translator" id="xd31e276">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</a> <span class="tocPageNum">V</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER I -</p> -<p><a href="#ch1" id="xd31e284">THE BUPRESTIS-HUNTING CERCERIS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">1</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER II -</p> -<p><a href="#ch2" id="xd31e292">THE GREAT CERCERIS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">18</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER III -</p> -<p><a href="#ch3" id="xd31e300">A SCIENTIFIC SLAUGHTERER</a> <span class="tocPageNum">40</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER IV -</p> -<p><a href="#ch4" id="xd31e308">THE YELLOW-WINGED SPHEX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">58</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER V -</p> -<p><a href="#ch5" id="xd31e317">THE THREE DAGGER-THRUSTS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">75</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER VI -</p> -<p><a href="#ch6" id="xd31e325">THE LARVA AND THE NYMPH</a> <span class="tocPageNum">86</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.viii">[<a href="#pb.viii">viii</a>]</span></p> -<p>CHAPTER VII -</p> -<p><a href="#ch7" id="xd31e334">ADVANCED THEORIES</a> <span class="tocPageNum">107</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER VIII -</p> -<p><a href="#ch8" id="xd31e342">THE LANGUEDOCIAN SPHEX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">129</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER IX -</p> -<p><a href="#ch9" id="xd31e350">THE WISDOM OF INSTINCT</a> <span class="tocPageNum">149</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER X -</p> -<p><a href="#ch10" id="xd31e359">THE IGNORANCE OF INSTINCT</a> <span class="tocPageNum">174</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XI -</p> -<p><a href="#ch11" id="xd31e367">AN ASCENT OF MONT VENTOUX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">196</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XII -</p> -<p><a href="#ch12" id="xd31e375">THE TRAVELLERS</a> <span class="tocPageNum">215</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XIII -</p> -<p><a href="#ch13" id="xd31e383">THE AMMOPHILÆ</a> <span class="tocPageNum">231</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XIV -</p> -<p><a href="#ch14" id="xd31e391">THE BEMBEX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">251</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb.ix">[<a href="#pb.ix">ix</a>]</span></p> -<p>CHAPTER XV -</p> -<p><a href="#ch15" id="xd31e400">THE FLY-HUNT</a> <span class="tocPageNum">271</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XVI -</p> -<p><a href="#ch16" id="xd31e409">A PARASITE OF THE BEMBEX. THE COCOON</a> <span class="tocPageNum">284</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XVII -</p> -<p><a href="#ch17" id="xd31e417">THE RETURN TO THE NEST</a> <span class="tocPageNum">305</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XVIII -</p> -<p><a href="#ch18" id="xd31e425">THE HAIRY AMMOPHILA</a> <span class="tocPageNum">323</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XIX -</p> -<p><a href="#ch19" id="xd31e433">AN UNKNOWN SENSE</a> <span class="tocPageNum">341</span> -</p> -<p>CHAPTER XX -</p> -<p><a href="#ch20" id="xd31e441">THE MODERN THEORY OF INSTINCT</a> <span class="tocPageNum">354</span> -</p> -<p><a href="#app" id="xd31e448">APPENDIX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">379</span> -</p> -<p><a href="#ix" id="xd31e456">INDEX</a> <span class="tocPageNum">387</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="body"> -<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e284">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter i</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE BUPRESTIS-HUNTING CERCERIS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">There are for each one of us, according to his turn of mind, certain books that open -up horizons hitherto undreamed of and mark an epoch in our mental life. They fling -wide the gates of a new world wherein our intellectual powers are henceforth to be -employed; they are the spark which lights the fuel on a hearth doomed, without its -aid, to remain indefinitely bleak and cold. And it is often chance that places in -our hands those books which mark the beginning of a new era in the evolution of our -ideas. The most casual circumstances, a few lines that happen somehow to come before -our eyes, decide our future and plant us in the appointed groove. -</p> -<p>One winter evening, when the rest of the household was asleep, as I sat reading beside -a stove whose ashes were still warm, my book made me forget for a while the cares -of the morrow: those heavy cares of a poor professor of physics who, after piling -up diplomas <span class="pageNum" id="pb2">[<a href="#pb2">2</a>]</span>and for a quarter of a century performing services of uncontested merit, was receiving -for himself and his family a stipend of sixteen hundred francs, or less than the wages -of a groom in a decent establishment. Such was the disgraceful parsimony of the day -where education was concerned; such was the edict of our government red-tape: I was -an irregular, the offspring of my solitary studies. And so I was forgetting the poverty -and anxieties of a professor’s life, amid my books, when I chanced to turn over the -pages of an entomological essay that had fallen into my hands I forget how. -</p> -<p>It was a monograph by the then father of entomology, the venerable scientist Léon -Dufour,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e475src" href="#xd31e475">1</a> on the habits of a Wasp that hunted Buprestis-beetles. Certainly, I had not waited -till then to interest myself in insects; from my early childhood I had delighted in -Beetles, Bees, and Butterflies; as far back as I can remember, I see myself in ecstasy -before the splendour of a Ground-beetle’s wing-cases or the wings of <i lang="la">Papilio machaon</i>, the Swallowtail. The fire was laid; the spark to kindle it was <span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span>absent. Léon Dufour’s essay provided that spark. -</p> -<p>New lights burst forth: I received a sort of mental revelation. So there was more -in science than the arranging of pretty Beetles in a cork box and giving them names -and classifying them; there was something much finer: a close and loving study of -insect life, the examination of the structure and especially the faculties of each -species. I read of a magnificent instance of this, glowing with excitement as I did -so. Some time after, aided by those lucky circumstances which he who seeks them eagerly -is always able to find, I myself published an entomological article, a supplement -to Léon Dufour’s. This first work of mine won honourable mention from the Institute -of France and was awarded a prize for experimental physiology. But soon I received -a far more welcome recompense, in the shape of a most eulogistic and encouraging letter -from the very man who had inspired me. From his home in the Landes the revered master -sent me a warm expression of his enthusiasm and urged me to go on with my studies. -Even now, at that sacred recollection, my old eyes fill with happy tears. O fair days -of illusion, of faith in the future, where are you now? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span></p> -<p>I am sure that my readers will welcome an extract from the essay that formed the starting-point -of my own researches, especially as this extract is necessary for the due understanding -of what follows. I will therefore let the master speak for himself, abridging his -words in parts:<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e491src" href="#xd31e491">2</a> -</p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">‘In all insect history, I can think of no more curious, no more extraordinary fact -than that which I am about to describe to you. It concerns a species of Cerceris who -feeds her family on the most sumptuous species of the genus Buprestis. Allow me to -make you share the vivid impressions which I owe to my study of this Hymenopteron’s -habits. -</p> -<p>‘In July 1839, a friend living in the country sent me two specimens of <i lang="la">Buprestis bifasciata</i>, an insect at that time new to my collection, informing me that a kind of Wasp that -was carrying one of these pretty Beetles had let it fall on his coat and that, a few -moments later, a similar Wasp had dropped another on the ground. -</p> -<p>‘In July 1840, I was visiting my friend’s house professionally and reminded him of -his capture of the year before and asked for details of the circumstances that accompanied -it. <span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span>The identity of the season and place made me hope to make a similar capture myself; -but the weather that day was overcast and chilly; and therefore but few Wasps had -ventured out. Nevertheless, we made a tour of inspection in the garden; and, seeing -nothing coming, I thought of looking on the ground for the homes of Burrowing Hymenoptera. -</p> -<p>‘My attention was attracted by a small heap of sand freshly thrown up and forming -a sort of tiny mole-hill. On raking it, I saw that it masked the opening of a shaft -running some way down. With a spade we carefully turned over the soil and soon saw -the glittering wing-cases of the coveted Buprestis lying scattered around. Presently -I discovered not only isolated and fragmentary wing-cases, but a whole Buprestis, -then three or four of them, displaying their emerald and gold. I could not believe -my eyes. -</p> -<p>‘But this was only a prelude to the feast. In the chaos of rubbish produced by the -exhumation, a Wasp appeared and fell into my hands: it was the kidnapper of the Buprestes, -trying to escape from among her victims. In this burrowing insect I recognized an -old acquaintance, a Cerceris whom I have found hundreds of times, both in Spain and -round about Saint-Sever. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span></p> -<p>‘My ambition was far from satisfied. It was not enough for me to identify the kidnapper -and her victim: I wanted the larva, the sole consumer of those rich provisions. After -exhausting this first vein of Buprestes, I hastened to make fresh excavations and, -planting my spade more carefully still, I at last succeeded in discovering two larvæ -which crowned the good fortune of this campaign. In less than an hour I ransacked -the haunts of three Cerceres; and my booty was some fifteen whole Buprestes, with -fragments of a still larger number. I calculated, keeping, I believe, well within -the mark, that this particular garden contained five-and-twenty nests, making an enormous -total of buried Buprestes. What must it be, I thought, in places where in a few hours -I have caught on the garlic-flowers as many as sixty Cerceres, whose nests were apparently -in the neighbourhood and no doubt victualled just as abundantly? And so my imagination, -never going beyond the bounds of probability, showed me underground, within a small -radius, <i lang="la">Buprestis fasciata</i> by the thousand, whereas, during the thirty years and upwards that I have been studying -the entomology of this district, I never discovered a single one in the open. -</p> -<p>‘Once only, perhaps twenty years ago, I found the abdomen of this insect, together -<span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span>with its wing-cases, stuck in a hole in an old oak. This fact was illuminating. By -informing me that the larva of <i lang="la">Buprestis fasciata</i> must live in the wood of the oak, it completely explained why this Beetle is so common -in a district which has none but oak-forests. As <i lang="la">Cerceris bupresticida</i> is rare in the clay hills of such districts, as compared with the sandy plains thickly -planted with the maritime pine, it became an interesting question to know whether -this Wasp, when she inhabits the pine country, victuals her nest in the same way as -in the oak country. I had a strong presumption that this was not the case; and you -will soon see, not without surprise, what exquisite entomological discrimination our -Cerceris displays in her choice of the numerous species of the genus Buprestis. -</p> -<p>‘We will therefore hasten to the pine region to reap new delights. The field to be -explored is the garden of a country-house standing amid forests of maritime pines. -One soon recognized the dwellings of the Cerceris; they had been made solely in the -main paths, where the firm, compact soil offered the Burrowing Hymenopteron a solid -foundation for the construction of her subterranean abode. I inspected some twenty, -I may say, by the sweat of my brow. It is a very laborious sort of undertaking, for -<span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>the nests, and consequently the provisions, are not found at less than a foot below -the surface. It becomes necessary, therefore, lest they should be damaged, to begin -by inserting a grass-stalk, serving as a landmark and a guide, into the Cerceris’ -gallery and next to invest the place with a square of trenches, some seven or eight -inches from the orifice or the landmark. The sapping must be done with a garden-spade, -so that the central clod can be completely detached on every side and raised in one -piece, which we turn over on the ground and then break up carefully. This was the -method that answered with me. -</p> -<p>‘You would have shared our enthusiasm, my friend, at the sight of the beautiful specimens -of Buprestes which this original method of treasure-hunting disclosed, one after the -other, to our eager gaze. You should have heard our exclamations each time that the -mine was turned upside down and new glories stood revealed, rendered more brilliant -still by the blazing sun; or when we discovered, here, larvæ of all ages fastened -to their prey, there, the cocoons of those larvæ all encrusted with copper, bronze, -and emerald. I who had been studying insects at close quarters for three or four decades—alas!—had -never witnessed such a lovely sight nor enjoyed so great a treat. It <span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span>only needed your presence to double our delight. Our ever-increasing admiration was -devoted by turns to those brilliant Beetles and to the marvellous discernment, the -astonishing sagacity of the Cerceris who had buried and stored them away. Will you -believe it, of more than four hundred Beetles<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e536src" href="#xd31e536">3</a> that we dug up, there was not one but belonged to the old genus Buprestis! Not even -the very smallest mistake had been made by the wise Wasp. What can we not learn from -this intelligent industry in so tiny an insect! What value would not Latreille<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e568src" href="#xd31e568">4</a> have set upon this Cerceris’ support of the natural method! -</p> -<p>‘We will now pass to the different manœuvres of the Cerceris for establishing and -victualling her nests. I have already said that she chooses ground with a firm, compact, -and smooth surface; I will add that this ground must be dry and fully exposed to the -sun. She reveals in this choice an intelligence, or, if you prefer, an instinct, which -one might be tempted to consider the result of experience. Loose earth or <span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>a merely sandy soil would doubtless be much easier to dig; but then how is she to -get an aperture that will remain open for goods to pass in and out, or a gallery whose -walls will not constantly be liable to fall in, to lose their shape, to be blocked -after a few days of rain? Her choice therefore is both sensible and nicely calculated. -</p> -<p>‘Our Burrowing Wasp digs her gallery with her mandibles and her front tarsi, which -are furnished for this purpose with stiff spikes that perform the office of rakes. -The orifice must not only have the diameter of the miner’s body: it must also be able -to admit a capture of large bulk. It is an instance of admirable foresight. As the -Cerceris goes deeper into the earth, she casts out the rubbish: this forms the heap -which I likened above to a tiny mole-hill. The gallery is not perpendicular, for then -it would inevitably become blocked up, owing either to the wind or to other causes. -Not far from where it starts, it forms an angle; its length is seven or eight inches. -At the end of the passage the industrious mother establishes the cradles of her offspring. -These consist of five separate cells, independent of one another, arranged in a semicircle -and hollowed into the shape and nearly the size of an olive. Inside, they are polished -and firm. Each of them is <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>large enough to contain three Buprestes, which form the usual allowance for each larva. -The mother lays an egg in the middle of the three victims and then stops up the gallery -with earth, so that, when the victualling of the whole brood is finished, the cells -no longer communicate with the outside. -</p> -<p>‘<i lang="la">Cerceris bupresticida</i> must be a dexterous, daring, and skilful huntress. The cleanliness and freshness -of the Buprestes whom she buries in her lair incline one to believe that she must -seize these Beetles at the moment when they are leaving the wooden galleries in which -their final metamorphosis has taken place. But what inconceivable instinct urges her, -a creature that lives solely on the nectar of flowers, to procure, in the face of -a thousand difficulties, animal food for carnivorous children which she will never -see, and to take up her post on utterly dissimilar trees, which conceal deep down -in their trunks the insects destined to become her prey? What yet more inconceivable -entomological judgment lays down the strict law that she shall confine herself in -the choice of her victims to a single generic group and capture specimens differing -greatly among themselves in size, shape, and colour? For observe, my friend, how slight -the resemblance is between <i lang="la">Buprestis biguttata</i>, with a long, slender body <span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>and a dark colour; <i lang="la">B. octoguttata</i>, oval-oblong, with great patches of a beautiful yellow on a blue or green ground; -and <i lang="la">B. micans</i>, who is three or four times the size of <i lang="la">B. biguttata</i> and glitters with a metallic lustre of a fine golden green. -</p> -<p>‘There is another very singular fact about the manœuvres of our Buprestis-slayer. -The buried Buprestes, like those whom I have seized in the grasp of their kidnappers, -are always deprived of any sign of life; in a word, they are decidedly dead. I was -surprised to remark that, no matter when these corpses were dug up, they not only -preserved all their freshness of colouring, but their legs, antennæ, palpi, and the -membranes uniting the various parts of the body remained perfectly supple and flexible. -There was no mutilation, no apparent wound to be seen. One might at first believe -the reason, in the case of the buried ones, to be due to the coolness of the bowels -of the earth, in the absence of air and light; and, in the case of those taken from -the kidnappers, to the very recent date of their death. But please observe that, at -the time of my explorations, after placing the numerous exhumed Buprestes in separate -screws of paper, I often left them in their little bags for thirty-six hours before -pinning them out. Well, notwithstanding the dryness of the air and the burning July -heat, <span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>I always found the same flexibility in their joints. Nay more: I have dissected several -of them, after that lapse of time, and their viscera were as perfectly preserved as -if I had used my scalpel on the insects’ live entrails. Now long experience has taught -me that, even in a Beetle of this size, when twelve hours have passed after death -in summer, the internal organs become either dried up or putrefied, so that it is -impossible to make sure of their form or structure. There is some special circumstance -about the Buprestes killed by the Cerceres that saves them from desiccation and putrefaction -for a week and perhaps two. But what is this circumstance?’</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>To explain this wonderful preservation of the tissues which makes of an insect smitten -for many weeks past with a corpse-like inertness a piece of game which does not even -go high and which, during the greatest heat of summer, keeps as fresh as at the moment -of its capture, the able historian of the Buprestis-huntress surmises the presence -of an antiseptic fluid, acting similarly to the preparations used for preserving anatomical -specimens. This fluid, he suggests, can be nothing but the poison of the Wasp, injected -into the victim’s body. A tiny drop of the venomous liquid accompanying <span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>the sting, the needle destined for the inoculation, would therefore serve as a kind -of brine or pickle to preserve the meat on which the larva is to feed. But how immensely -superior to our own pickling processes is that of the Wasp! We salt, or smoke, or -tin foodstuffs which remain fit to eat, it is true, but which are very far indeed -from retaining the qualities which they possessed when fresh. Tins of sardines soaked -in oil, Dutch smoked herrings, codfish reduced to hard slabs by salt and sun: which -of these can compare with the same fish supplied to the cook, so to speak, all alive -and kicking? In the case of flesh-meat, things are even worse. Apart from salting -and curing, we have nothing that can keep a piece of meat fit for consumption for -even a fairly short period. -</p> -<p>Nowadays, after a thousand fruitless attempts in the most varied directions, we equip -special ships at great cost; and these ships, fitted with a powerful refrigerating-plant, -bring us the flesh of sheep and oxen slaughtered in the South American pampas, frozen -and preserved from decomposition by the intense cold. How much more excellent is the -Cerceris’ method, so swift, so inexpensive, and so efficacious! What lessons can we -not learn from her transcendental chemistry! With an imperceptible drop of her poison-fluid, -she straightway renders <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>her prey incorruptible! Incorruptible, did I say? It is much more than that! The game -is brought to a condition which prevents desiccation, leaves the joints supple, keeps -all the organs, both internal and external, in their pristine freshness, and, in short, -places the sacrificed insect in a state that differs from life only by its corpse-like -immobility. -</p> -<p>This is the theory that satisfied Léon Dufour, as he contemplated the incomprehensible -marvel of those dead Buprestes proof against corruption. A preserving-fluid, incomparably -superior to aught that human science can produce, explains the mystery. He, the master, -the ablest of them all, an expert in the niceties of anatomy; he who, with magnifying-glass -and scalpel, examined the whole entomological series, leaving no nook or corner unexplored; -he, in short, for whom insect organism possessed no secrets can think of nothing better -than an antiseptic fluid to give at least the semblance of an explanation of a fact -that leaves him confounded. I crave permission to emphasize this comparison between -animal instinct and the reasoning power of the sage in order the better to bring to -light, in due season, the overwhelming superiority of the former. -</p> -<p>I will add but a few words to the history of the Buprestis-hunting Cerceris. This -Wasp, <span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span>who is common in the Landes, as her historian tells us, appears to be very rarely -found in the department of Vaucluse. I have met her only at long intervals, in autumn—and -then only isolated specimens—on the spiny heads of the field eryngo (<i lang="la">Eryngium campestre</i>), in the neighbourhood either of Avignon or of Orange and Carpentras. In this last -spot, so favourable to the work of the Burrowing Wasps owing to its sandy soil of -Molasse formation, I have had the good fortune, not to witness the exhumation of such -entomological treasures as Léon Dufour describes, but to find some old nests which -I attribute without hesitation to the Buprestis-huntress, basing my opinion upon the -shape of the cocoons, the nature of the provisioning, and the presence of the Wasp -in the neighbourhood. These nests, dug in the heart of a very crumbly sandstone, known -in the district as <i lang="fr">safre</i>, were crammed with remains of Beetles, remains easily recognized and consisting of -detached wing-cases, gutted corselets and entire legs. Now these broken victuals of -the larva’s banquet all belonged to a single species; and that species was once more -a Buprestis, the Double-lined Buprestis (<i lang="la">Sphenoptera geminata</i>).<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e628src" href="#xd31e628">5</a> Thus from <span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>the west to the east of France, from the department of the Landes to that of Vaucluse, -the Cerceris remains faithful to her favourite prey; longitude makes no difference -to her predilections; a huntress of Buprestes among the maritime pines of the sand-dunes -along the coast remains a huntress of Buprestes among the olive-trees and evergreen -oaks of Provence. She changes the species according to place, climate, and vegetation, -which alter the nature of the insect population so greatly; but she never departs -from her favoured genus, the genus Buprestis. What can her reason be? That is what -I shall try to show. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e475"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e475src">1</a></span> Léon Dufour (1780–1865) was an army surgeon who served with distinction in several -campaigns and subsequently practised as a doctor in the Landes. He attained great -eminence as a naturalist. Cf. <i>The Life of the Spider</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, chap, i.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e475src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e491"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e491src">2</a></span> For the complete monograph, cf. <i lang="fr">Annales des sciences naturelles</i>: Series II., vol. xv.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e491src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e536"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e536src">3</a></span> The 450 Buprestes unearthed belong to the following species: <i lang="la">Buprestis octoguttata</i>; <i lang="la">B. fasciata</i>; <i lang="la">B. pruni</i>; <i lang="la">B. tarda</i>; <i lang="la">B. biguttata</i>; <i lang="la">B. micans</i>; <i lang="la">B. flavomaculata</i>; <i lang="la">B. chrysostigma</i>; and <i lang="la">B. novemmaculata</i>.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e536src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e568"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e568src">4</a></span> Pierre André Latreille (1762–1833), a French naturalist who was one of the founders -of entomological science.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e568src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e628"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e628src">5</a></span> The Beetle known to Fabre as <i lang="la">Sphenoptera geminata</i>, <span class="sc">Uliger</span>, is now considered identical with <i lang="la">S. lineola</i>, <span class="sc">Herbst</span>, which was known many years earlier.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e628src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e292">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter ii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE GREAT CERCERIS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">With my memory full of the prowess of the Buprestis-huntress, I watched for an opportunity -to observe in my turn the labours of the Cerceres; and I watched to such good purpose -that I ended by being successful. True, the Wasp was not the one celebrated by Léon -Dufour, with her sumptuous victuals whose remains, when unearthed, suggest the dust -of some nugget broken by the gold-miner’s pick: it was a kindred species, a gigantic -brigand who contents herself with humbler prey; in short, it was <i lang="la">Cerceris tuberculata</i> or <i lang="la">C. major</i>, the largest and most powerful of the genus. -</p> -<p>The last fortnight in September is the time when our Burrowing Wasp digs her lairs -and buries in their depths the victim destined for her grubs. The site of the home, -always selected with discrimination, is subject to those mysterious laws which differ -in different species but are invariable throughout any one species. Léon Dufour’s -Cerceris requires a level, well-trodden, <span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>compact soil, such as that of a path, to prevent the possibility of landslips and -other damage which would ruin her gallery at the first shower of rain. Ours, on the -contrary, is not very particular about the nature of her soil, but must have that -soil vertical. With this slight architectural modification, she avoids most of the -dangers that might threaten her gallery; and consequently she digs her burrows indifferently -in a loose and slightly clayey soil and in the soft sand of the Molasse formation, -which makes the work of excavation much easier. The only indispensable condition appears -to be that the earth should be dry and exposed to the sun’s rays for the best part -of the day. It is therefore in the steep roadside banks, in the sides of the ravines -hollowed by the rains in the sandstone, that our Wasp elects to establish her home. -These conditions are common in the neighbourhood of Carpentras, in the part known -as the Hollow Road; and it is here that I have observed <i lang="la">Cerceris tuberculata</i> in her largest numbers and that I gathered most of my facts relating to her history. -</p> -<p>The choice of this vertical site is not enough for her: other precautions are taken -to guard against the inevitable rains of the season, which is already far advanced. -If there be <span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>some bit of hard sandstone projecting like a ledge, if there be naturally hollowed -in the ground some hole large enough to put one’s fist in, it will be under that shelter -or in this cavity that she contrives her gallery, thus adding a natural vestibule -to the edifice of her own construction. Though no sort of communism exists among them, -these insects nevertheless like to associate in small numbers; and I have always observed -their nests in groups of about ten at least, with the orifices, which are usually -pretty far apart, sometimes close enough to touch one another. -</p> -<p>On a bright, sunny day it is wonderful to watch the different operations of these -industrious miners. Some patiently remove with their mandibles a few bits of gravel -from the bottom of the pit and push the heavy mass outside; others, scraping the walls -of the corridor with the sharp rakes of their tarsi, collect a heap of rubbish which -they sweep out backwards and send streaming down the sides of the slopes in a long -thread of dust. It was these periodical billows of sand discharged from the galleries -in process of building that betrayed the presence of my first Cerceres to me and enabled -me to discover their nests. Others, either because they are tired or because they -have finished their hard task, seem to rest and <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>polish their antennæ and wings under the natural eaves that most frequently protect -their dwelling; or else they remain motionless at the mouth of the hole, merely showing -their wide, square faces, striped black and yellow. Others, lastly, flit gravely humming -on the neighbouring kermes-oak-bushes, where the males, always on the watch near the -burrows in course of construction, are not slow to join them. Couples form, often -disturbed by the arrival of a second male, who strives to supplant the happy possessor. -The humming becomes threatening, brawls take place and often the two males roll in -the dust until one of them acknowledges the superiority of his rival. Near by, the -female awaits the outcome of the struggle with indifference; she finally accepts the -male whom the chances of the contest bestow upon her; and the couple fly out of sight -in search of peace and quiet on some distant brushwood. Here the part played by the -males ends. Only half the size of the females and nearly as numerous, they prowl all -around the burrows, but never enter and never take part in the laborious mining operations -nor in the perhaps even more difficult hunting expeditions by means of which the cells -are to be stocked. -</p> -<p>The galleries are ready in a few days, especially <span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>as those of the previous year are employed with the aid of a few repairs. The other -Cerceres, so far as I know, have no fixed home, no family inheritance handed down -from generation to generation. A regular gipsy tribe, they settle singly wherever -the chances of their vagrant life may lead them, provided that the soil suits them. -But the Great Cerceris is faithful to her household gods. The overhanging blade of -sandstone that sheltered her predecessors is adopted by her in her turn; she digs -in the same layer of sand wherein her forbears dug; and, adding her own labours to -those which went before, she obtains deep retreats that are not always easy of inspection. -The diameter of the galleries is wide enough to admit a man’s thumb; and the insect -moves about in them readily, even when laden with the prey which we shall see it capture. -Their direction, at first horizontal to a depth of four to eight inches, describes -a sudden bend and dips more or less obliquely now to this side, now to that. With -the exception of the horizontal part and the bend, the direction of the rest of the -tube seems to be regulated by the difficulties presented by the ground, as is proved -by the twists and turns observed in the more distant portion. The total length of -the shaft attains as much as eighteen inches. At the <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>far end of the tube are the cells, few in number and each provisioned with five or -six corpses of the Beetle order. But let us leave these building details and come -to facts more capable of exciting our admiration. -</p> -<p>The victim which the Cerceris chooses whereon to feed her grubs is a large-sized Weevil, -<i lang="la">Cleonus ophthalmicus</i>. We see the kidnapper arrive heavily laden, carrying her victim between her legs, -body to body, head to head, and plump down at some distance from her hole, to complete -the rest of the journey without the aid of her wings. The Wasp is now dragging her -prey in her mandibles up a vertical, or at least a very steep surface, productive -of frequent tumbles which send kidnapper and kidnapped rolling helter-skelter to the -bottom, but incapable of discouraging the indefatigable mother, who, covered with -dirt and dust, ends by diving into the burrow with her booty, which she has not let -go for a single moment. Whereas the Cerceris finds it far from easy to walk with such -a burden, especially on ground of this character, it is a different matter when she -is flying, which she does with a vigour that astonishes us when we consider that the -sturdy little creature is carrying a prize almost as large as herself and heavier. -I had the curiosity to compare the weight of the Cerceris and <span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span>her victim: the first turned the scale at 150 milligrammes;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e688src" href="#xd31e688">1</a> the second averaged 250 milligrammes,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e692src" href="#xd31e692">2</a> or nearly double. -</p> -<p>These figures are eloquent of the powers of the huntress, nor did I ever weary of -admiring the nimbleness and ease with which she resumed her flight, with the game -between her legs, and rose to a height at which I lost sight of her whenever, tracked -too close by my indiscretion, she resolved to flee in order to save her precious booty. -But she did not always fly away; and I would then succeed, not without difficulty, -lest I should hurt her, in making her drop her prey by worrying her and rolling her -over. I would then seize the Weevil; and the Cerceris, thus despoiled, would hunt -about here and there, enter her lair for a moment and soon come out again to fly off -on a fresh chase. In less than ten minutes the skilled huntress had found a new victim, -performed the murder and accomplished the rape, which I often allowed myself to turn -to my own profit. Eight times in succession I have committed the same robbery at the -expense of the same Wasp; eight times, with unshaken consistency, she has recommenced -her fruitless expedition. Her patience outwore mine; and I <span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>left her in undisturbed possession of her ninth capture. -</p> -<p>By this means, or by violating cells already provisioned, I procured close upon a -hundred Weevils; and, notwithstanding what I was entitled to expect from what Léon -Dufour has told us of the habits of the Buprestis-hunting Cerceris, I could not repress -my surprise at the sight of the singular collection which I had made. Whereas the -Buprestis-slayer, while confining herself to one genus, passes indiscriminately from -one species to another, the more exclusive Great Cerceris preys invariably on the -same species, <i lang="la">Cleonus ophthalmicus</i>. When going through my bag I came upon but one exception, and even that belonged -to a kindred species, <i lang="la">Cleonus alternans</i>, a species which I never saw again in my frequent visits to the Cerceris. Later researches -supplied me with a second exception, in the shape of <i lang="la">Bothynoderus albidus</i>; and that is all. Is this predilection for a single species adequately explained -by the greater flavour and succulence of the prey? Do the grubs find in this monotonous -diet juices which suit them and which they would not find elsewhere? I do not think -so; and, if Léon Dufour’s Cerceris hunts every sort of Buprestis without distinction, -this is doubtless because all the Buprestes possess the same <span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span>nutritive properties. But this must be generally the case with the Weevils also: their -nourishing qualities must be identical; and then this surprising choice becomes only -a question of size and consequently of economy of labour and time. Our Cerceris, the -mammoth of her race, tackles the Ophthalmic Cleonus by preference because this Weevil -is the largest in our district and perhaps also the commonest. But, if her favourite -prey should fail, she must fall back upon other species, even though they be smaller, -as is proved by the two exceptions stated. -</p> -<p>Besides, she is far from being the only one to go hunting at the expense of the snouted -clan, the Weevils. Many other Cerceres, according to their size, their strength and -the accidents of the chase, capture Weevils varying infinitely in genus, species, -shape, and dimensions. It has long been known that <i lang="la">Cerceris arenaria</i> feeds her grubs on similar provisions. I myself have encountered in her lairs <i lang="la">Sitona lineata</i>, <i lang="la">S. tibialis</i>, <i lang="la">Cneorinus hispidus</i>, <i lang="la">Brachyderes gracilis</i>, <i lang="la">Geonemus flabellipes</i> and <i lang="la">Otiorhynchus maleficus</i>. <i lang="la">Cerceris aurita</i> is known to make her booty of <i lang="la"><span class="corr" id="xd31e741" title="Source: Otiorhyncus">Otiorhynchus</span> raucus</i> and <i lang="la">Phynotomus punctatus</i>. The larder of <i lang="la">Cerceris Ferreri</i> has shown me the following: <i lang="la">Phynotomus murinus</i>, <i lang="la">P. punctatus</i>, <i lang="la">Sitona lineata</i>, <i lang="la">Cneorinus hispidus</i>, <i lang="la">Rhynchites <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>betuleti</i>. The last, who rolls vine-leaves in the shape of cigars, is sometimes a superb steel-blue -and more ordinarily shines with a splendid golden copper. I have found as many as -seven of these brilliant insects victualling a single cell; and the gaudiness of the -little subterranean heap might almost stand comparison with the jewels buried by the -Buprestis-huntress. Other species, notably the weaker, go in for lesser game, whose -small size is atoned for by larger numbers. Thus <i lang="la">Cerceris quadricincta</i> stacks quite thirty specimens of <i lang="la">Apion gravidum</i> in each of her cells, without disdaining on occasion such larger Weevils as <i lang="la">Sitona lineata</i> and <i lang="la">Phynotomus murinus</i>. A similar provision of small species falls to the share of <i lang="la">Cerceris labiata</i>. Lastly, the smallest Cerceris in my district, <i lang="la">Cerceris Julii</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e788src" href="#xd31e788">3</a> chases the tiniest Weevils, <i lang="la">Apion gravidum</i> and <i lang="la">Bruchus granarius</i>, victims proportioned to the diminutive huntress. To finish with this list of game, -let us add that a few Cerceres observe other gastronomic laws and raise their families -on Hymenoptera. One of these is <i lang="la">Cerceris ornata</i>. We will dismiss these tastes as foreign to the subject in hand. -</p> -<p>Of the eight species then of Cerceres whose provisions consist of Beetles, seven adopt -a diet <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>of Weevils and one a diet of Buprestes. For what singular reasons are the depredations -of these Wasps confined to such narrow limits? What are the motives for this exclusive -choice? What inward likeness can there be between the Buprestes and the Weevils, outwardly -so entirely dissimilar, that they should both become the food of kindred carnivorous -grubs? Beyond a doubt, there are differences of flavour between this victim and that, -nutritive differences which the larvæ are well able to appreciate; but some graver -reason must overrule all such gastronomic considerations and cause these curious predilections. -</p> -<p>After all the admirable things that have been said by Léon Dufour upon the long and -wonderful preservation of the insects destined for the flesh-eating larvæ, it is almost -needless to add that the Weevils, both those whom I dug up and those whom I took from -between the legs of their kidnappers, were always in a perfect state of preservation, -though deprived for ever of the power of motion. Freshness of colour, flexibility -of the membranes and the lesser joints, normal condition of the viscera: all these -combine to make you doubt that the lifeless body before your eyes is really a corpse, -all the more as even with the magnifying-glass it is impossible to perceive the smallest -wound; <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>and, in spite of yourself, you are every moment expecting to see the insect move and -walk. Nay more: in a heat which, in a few hours, would have dried and pulverized insects -that had died an ordinary death, or in damp weather, which would just as quickly have -made them decay and go mouldy, I have kept the same specimens, both in glass tubes -and paper bags, for more than a month, without precautions of any kind; and, incredible -though it may sound, after this enormous lapse of time the viscera had lost none of -their freshness and dissection was as easily performed as though I were operating -on a live insect. No, in the presence of such facts, we cannot speak of the action -of an antiseptic and believe in a real death: life is still there, latent, passive -life, the life of a vegetable. It alone, resisting yet a little while longer the all-conquering -chemical forces, can thus preserve the structure from decomposition. Life is still -there, except for movement; and we have before our eyes a marvel such as chloroform -or ether might produce, a marvel which owes its origin to the mysterious laws of the -nervous system. -</p> -<p>The functions of this vegetative life are no doubt enfeebled and disturbed; but at -any rate they are exercised in a lethargic fashion. I have as a proof the evacuation -performed <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>by the Weevils normally and at intervals during the first week of this deep slumber, -which will be followed by no awakening and which nevertheless is not yet death. It -does not cease until the intestines are emptied of their contents, as shown by autopsy. -Nor do the faint glimmers of life which the insect still manifests stop at that; and, -though irritability of the organs seems annihilated for good, I have nevertheless -succeeded in arousing slight signs of it. Having placed some recently exhumed and -absolutely motionless Weevils in a bottle containing sawdust moistened with a few -drops of benzine, I was not a little astonished to see their legs and antennæ moving -a quarter of an hour later. For a moment I thought that I could recall them to life. -Vain hope! Those movements, the last traces of a susceptibility about to be extinguished, -soon cease and cannot be excited a second time. I have tried this experiment in some -cases a few hours after the murderous blow, in others as late as three or four days -after, and always with the same success. Still, the movement is feeble in proportion -to the time that has elapsed since the fatal stroke. It always spreads from front -to back: the antennæ first wave slowly to and fro; then the front tarsi tremble and -take part in the oscillation; next the tarsi of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>second pair of legs and lastly those of the third pair hasten to do likewise. Once -movement sets in, these different appendages execute their vibrations without any -order, until the whole relapses into immobility, which happens more or less quickly. -Unless the blow has been dealt quite recently, the motion of the tarsi extends no -farther and the legs remain still. -</p> -<p>Ten days after an attack I was unable to obtain the least vestige of susceptibility -by the above process; and I then had recourse to the Voltaic battery. This method -is more powerful and provokes muscular contractions and movements where the benzine-vapour -fails. We have only therefore to apply the current of one or two Bunsen cells through -the conductors of some slender needles. Thrusting the point of one under the farthest -ring of the abdomen and the point of the other under the neck, we obtain, each time -the current is established, not only a quivering of the tarsi, but a strong reflexion -of the legs, which draw up under the abdomen and then straighten out when the current -is turned off. These flutterings, which are very energetic during the first few days, -gradually diminish in intensity and appear no more after a certain time. On the tenth -day I have still obtained perceptible movements; on the fifteenth day the battery -<span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>was powerless to provoke them, despite the suppleness of the limbs and the freshness -of the viscera. To effect a comparison, I subjected to the action of the Voltaic pile -Beetles really dead, Cellar-beetles, Saperdæ and Lamiæ, asphyxiated with benzine or -sulphuric acid gas. Two hours at most after the asphyxiation, it was impossible for -me to provoke the movements so easily obtained in Weevils who have already for several -days been in that curious intermediate state between life and death into which their -formidable enemy plunges them. -</p> -<p>All these facts are opposed to the idea of something completely dead, to the theory -that we have here a veritable corpse which has become incorruptible by the action -of a preservative fluid. They can be explained only by admitting that the insect is -smitten in the very origin and mainspring of its movements; that its susceptibility, -suddenly benumbed, dies out slowly, while the more tenacious vegetative functions -die still more slowly and keep the intestines in a state of preservation for the space -of time required by the larvæ. -</p> -<p>The particular thing which it was most important to ascertain was the manner in which -the murder is committed. It is quite evident that the chief part in this must be played -by the Cerceris’ venom-laden sting. But where <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>and how does it enter the Weevil’s body, which is covered with a hard and well-riveted -cuirass? In the various insects pierced by the assassin’s dart, nothing, even under -the magnifying-glass, betrayed her method. It became a matter, therefore, of discovering -the murderous manœuvres of the Wasp by direct observation, a problem whose difficulties -had made Léon Dufour recoil and whose solution seemed to me for a time undiscoverable. -I tried, however, and had the satisfaction of succeeding, though not without some -preliminary groping. -</p> -<p>When flying from their caverns, intent upon the chase, the Cerceres would take any -direction indifferently, turning now this way, now that; and they would come back, -laden with their prey, from all quarters. Every part of the neighbourhood must therefore -have been explored without distinction; but, as the huntresses were hardly more than -ten minutes in coming and going, the radius worked could not be one of great extent, -especially when we allow for the time necessary for the insect to discover its prey, -to attack it and to reduce it to an inert mass. I therefore set myself to inspect -the adjacent ground with every possible attention, in the hope of finding a few Cerceres -engaged in hunting. An afternoon devoted to this thankless task ended by persuading -me of <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>the futility of my quest and of the small chance which I had of catching in the act -a few scarce huntresses, scattered here and there and soon lost to view through the -swiftness of their flight, especially on difficult ground, thickly planted with vines -and olive-trees. I abandoned the attempt. -</p> -<p>By myself bringing live Weevils into the vicinity of the nests, might I not tempt -the Cerceres with a victim all ready to hand and thus witness the desired tragedy? -The idea seemed a good one; and the very next morning I went off in search of live -specimens of <i lang="la">Cleonus ophthalmicus</i>. Vineyards, cornfields, lucerne-crops, hedges, stone-heaps, roadsides: I visited -and inspected one and all; and, after two mortal days of minute investigation, I was -the possessor—dare I say it?—I was the possessor of three Weevils, flayed, covered -with dust, minus antennæ or tarsi, maimed veterans whom the Cerceres would perhaps -refuse to look at! Many years have passed since the days of that fevered quest when, -bathed in sweat, I made those wild expeditions, all for a Weevil; and, despite my -almost daily entomological explorations, I am still ignorant how and where the celebrated -Cleonus lives, though I meet him occasionally, roaming on the edge of the paths. O -wonderful power of instinct! In the <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>selfsame places and in a mere fraction of time, our Wasps would have found by the -hundred these insects undiscoverable by man; and they would have found them fresh -and glossy, doubtless just issued from their nymphal cocoons! -</p> -<p>No matter, let us see what we can do with my pitiful bag. A Cerceris has just entered -her gallery with her usual prey; before she comes out again for a new expedition, -I place a Weevil a few inches from the hole. The insect moves about; when it strays -too far, I restore it to its position. At last the Cerceris shows her wide face and -emerges from the hole; my heart beats with excitement. The Wasp stalks about the approaches -to her home for a few moments, sees the Weevil, brushes against him, turns round, -passes several times over his back and flies away without honouring my capture with -a touch of her mandibles: the capture which I was at such pains to acquire. I am confounded, -I am floored. Fresh attempts at other holes lead to fresh disappointments. Clearly -these dainty sports-women will have none of the game which I offer them. Perhaps they -find it uninteresting, not fresh enough. Perhaps, by taking it in my fingers, I have -given it some odour which they dislike. With these epicures a mere alien touch is -enough to produce disgust. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span></p> -<p>Should I be more fortunate if I obliged the Cerceris to use her sting in self-defence? -I enclosed a Cerceris and a Cleonus in the same bottle and stirred them up by shaking -it. The Wasp, with her sensitive nature, was more impressed than the other prisoner, -with his dull and clumsy organization; she thought of flight, not of attack. The very -parts were interchanged: the Weevil, becoming the aggressor, at times seized with -his snout a leg of his mortal enemy, who was so greatly overcome with fear that she -did not even seek to defend herself. I was at the end of my resources; yet my wish -to behold the catastrophe was but increased by the difficulties already experienced. -Well, I would try again. -</p> -<p>A bright idea flashed across my mind, entering so naturally into the very heart of -the question that it brought hope in its train. Yes, that must be it; the thing was -bound to succeed. I must offer my scorned game to the Cerceris in the heat of the -chase. Then, carried away by her absorbing preoccupation, she would not perceive its -imperfections. -</p> -<p>I have already said that, on her return from hunting, the Cerceris alights at the -foot of the slope, at some distance from the hole, whither she laboriously drags her -prey. It became a matter, therefore, of robbing her of her victim <span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>by drawing it away by one foot with my forceps and at once throwing her the live Weevil -in exchange. The trick succeeded to perfection. As soon as the Cerceris felt her prey -slip from under her belly and escape her, she tapped the ground impatiently with her -feet, turned round and, perceiving the Weevil that had taken the place of her own, -flung herself upon him and clasped him in her legs to carry him away. But she soon -became aware that her prey was alive; and now the tragedy began, only to end with -inconceivable rapidity. The Wasp faced her victim and, gripping its snout with her -powerful mandibles, soon had it at her mercy. Then, while the Weevil reared on his -six legs, the other pressed her forefeet violently on his back, as if to force open -some ventral joint. I next saw the assassin’s abdomen slip under the Cleonus’ belly, -bend into a curve, and dart its poisoned lancet briskly, two or three times, into -the joint of the prothorax, between the first and second pair of legs. All was over -in a moment. Without the least convulsive movement, without any of that stretching -of the limbs which accompanies an animal’s death, the victim fell motionless for all -time, as though struck by lightning. It was terribly and at the same time wonderfully -quick. The murderess next turned the body on its back, <span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>placed herself belly to belly with it, with her legs on either side, clasped it and -flew away. Thrice over I renewed the experiment, with my three Weevils; and the process -never varied. -</p> -<p>Of course I gave the Cerceris back her first prey each time and withdrew my own Cleonus -to examine him at my leisure. The inspection but confirmed my high opinion of the -assassin’s formidable skill. It was impossible to perceive the least sign of a wound, -the slightest flow of vital fluid at the point attacked. But what was most striking—and -justly so—was the prompt and complete annihilation of all movement. Immediately after -the murder I sought in vain for traces of irritability of the organs in the three -Weevils dispatched before my eyes: those traces were never revealed, whether I pinched -or pricked the insect; and it required the artificial means described above to provoke -them. Thus these powerful Cleoni, which, if pierced alive with a pin and fixed on -the insect-collector’s fatal sheet of cork, would have kicked and struggled for days -and weeks, nay, for whole months on end, instantly lose all power of movement from -the effect of a tiny prick which inoculates them with an invisible drop of venom. -But chemistry has no poison so potent in so minute a dose; prussic acid would hardly -produce those effects, if indeed it <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>can produce them at all. It is not to toxology then, surely, but to physiology and -anatomy that we must turn to grasp the cause of this instantaneous annihilation; and -to understand these marvellous happenings we must consider not so much the intense -strength of the poison injected as the importance of the organ injured. -</p> -<p>What is there, then, at the point where the sting enters? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e688"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e688src">1</a></span> ·528 oz. av.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e688src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e692"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e692src">2</a></span> ·88 oz. av.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e692src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e788"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e788src">3</a></span> For a description of this species, which is new to entomology, see the Appendix.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e788src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e300">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter iii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">A SCIENTIFIC SLAUGHTERER</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The wasp has told us part of her secret by showing us the spot which her sting touches. -Does this solve the question? Not yet, nor by a long way. Let us go back for a moment, -forget what the insect has just taught us and, in our turn, set ourselves the problem -of the Cerceris. The problem is this: to store underground, in a cell, a big enough -pile of game to feed the larva which will be hatched from the egg laid on the heap. -</p> -<p>At first sight this victualling seems simple enough; but a little reflection shows -that it is attended by very grave difficulties. Our own game, for instance, is brought -down by a shot from a gun; it is killed with horrible wounds. The Wasp has refinements -of taste unknown to us: she must have the prey intact, with all its elegance of form -and colouring, no broken limbs, no gaping wounds, no hideous disembowelling. Her victim -has all the freshness of the live insect; it retains, without the loss of <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>a single speck, that fine tinted bloom which is destroyed by the mere contact of our -fingers. If the insect were dead, if it were really a corpse, how great would be our -difficulty in obtaining a like result! Each of us can kill an insect by brutally crushing -it under foot; but to kill it neatly, with no sign of injury, is not an easy operation, -is not an operation which any one can perform. How many would be utterly perplexed -if they were called upon to kill, then and there, without crushing it, a hardy little -insect which, even when you cut off its head, goes on struggling for a long time after! -One has to be a practical entomologist to think of the various ways of asphyxiation; -and even here success would be doubtful with primitive methods, such as the fumes -of benzine or burning sulphur. In this unwholesome atmosphere the insect flounders -about too long and loses its glory. We must have recourse to more heroic measures, -such as the terrible exhalations of prussic acid emanating slowly from strips of paper -steeped in cyanide of potassium, or else and better still, as being free from danger -to the insect-hunter, the all-powerful fumes of bisulphide of carbon. It is quite -an art, you see—and an art which has to call to its aid the formidable arsenal of -chemistry—to kill an insect neatly, to do what the <span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>Cerceris performs so quickly and so prettily, that is, if we are stupid enough to -assume that her captured prey actually becomes a corpse. -</p> -<p>A corpse! But that is by no means the fare prescribed for the larvæ, those little -ogres clamouring for fresh meat, whom game ever so slightly high would inspire with -insurmountable disgust. They want meat killed that day, with no suspicion of taint, -the first sign of corruption. Nevertheless, the prey cannot be packed into the cell -alive, as we pack the cattle destined to furnish fresh meat for the passengers and -crew of a ship. What indeed would become of the delicate egg laid among live provisions? -What would become of the feeble larva, a tiny grub which the least touch would bruise, -among lusty Beetles who would go on kicking for weeks with their long, spurred legs? -We need here two things which seem utterly irreconcilable: the immobility of death -combined with the sweet wholesomeness of life. Before such a dietetic problem the -most deeply read layman would stand powerless; the practical entomologist himself -would own himself beaten. The Cerceris’ larder would defy their reasoning power. -</p> -<p>Let us then suppose an academy of anatomists and physiologists; let us imagine a congress -at which the question is raised among such men as <span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>Flourens,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e872src" href="#xd31e872">1</a> Magendie<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e876src" href="#xd31e876">2</a> and Claude Bernard.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e883src" href="#xd31e883">3</a> If we want to obtain both complete immobility of the victim and also its preservation -during a long period without going bad, the simplest and most natural idea which comes -to us is that of tinned foods. Our congress would suggest the use of some preserving -liquid, just as the famous Landes scientist did when he was confronted with his Buprestes; -they would attribute exquisite antiseptic virtues to the Wasp’s poison-fluid; but -these strange virtues would still remain to be proved. And perhaps the conclusion -of that learned assembly, like the conclusion of the sage of the Landes, would be -a purely gratuitous supposition which would simply substitute one unknown quantity -for another, giving us in the place of the mystery of those uncorrupted tissues the -mystery of that wonderful preserving fluid. -</p> -<p>If we insist, if we point out that the larvæ need, not preserved food, which could -never <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>possess the properties of still palpitating flesh, but something that shall be just -as if it were live prey, despite its complete inertia, the learned congress, after -due reflection, will fix on paralysis: -</p> -<p>‘Yes, that’s it, of course! The creature must be paralysed; it must be deprived of -movement, without being deprived of life.’ -</p> -<p>There is only one way of achieving this result: to injure, cut or destroy the insect’s -nervous system in one or more skilfully-selected places. But, even at that stage, -if left in hands unfamiliar with the anatomical secrets of a delicate organism, the -question would not have advanced much further. What in fact is the disposition of -this nervous system which has to be smitten if we would paralyse the insect without -at the same time killing it? And, first of all, where is it? In the head, no doubt, -and down the back, like the brain and the spinal marrow of the higher animals. -</p> -<p>‘You make a grave mistake,’ our congress would say. ‘The insect is like an inverted -animal, walking on its back; that is to say, instead of having the spinal marrow on -the top, it has it below, along the breast and the belly. The operation on the insect -to be paralysed must therefore be performed on the lower surface and on that surface -alone.’ -<span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span></p> -<p>This difficulty once removed, another arises, equally serious in a different way. -Armed with his scalpel, the anatomist can direct the point of his instrument wherever -he thinks fit, in spite of obstacles, for these he can eliminate. The Wasp, on the -contrary, has no choice. Her victim is a Beetle in his stout coat of mail; her lancet -is her sting, an extremely delicate weapon which would inevitably be stopped by the -horny armour. Only a few points are accessible to the fragile implement, namely, the -joints, which are protected merely by an unresisting membrane. Moreover, the joints -of the limbs, though vulnerable, do not in the least fulfil the desired conditions, -for the utmost that could be obtained by means of them would be a partial paralysis -and not a general paralysis affecting the whole of the motor organism. Without a prolonged -struggle, which might be fatal to the patient, without repeated operations, which, -if too numerous, might jeopardize the Beetle’s life, the Wasp has, if possible, to -suppress all power of movement at one blow. It is essential, therefore, that she should -aim her sting at the nervous centres, the seat of the motor faculties, whence radiate -the nerves scattered over the several organs of movement. Now these sources of locomotion, -these nervous centres, consist of a certain <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>number of nuclei or ganglia, more numerous in the larva, less numerous in the perfect -insect and arranged along the median line of the lower surface in a string of beads -more or less distant one from the other and connected by a double ribbon of the nerve-substance. -In all the insects in the perfect state, the so-called thoracic ganglia, that is to -say, those which supply nerves to the wings and legs and govern their movements, are -three in number. These are the points to be struck. If their action can be destroyed, -no matter how, the power of movement will be destroyed likewise. -</p> -<p>There are two methods of reaching these motor centres with the Wasp’s feeble instrument, -the sting: through the joint between the neck and the corselet; and through the joint -between the corselet and the rest of the thorax, in short, between the first and second -pair of legs. The way through the joint of the neck is hardly suitable: it is too -far from the ganglia, which are near the base of the legs which they endow with movement. -It is at the other point and there alone that the blow must be struck. That would -be the opinion of the academy in which the Claude Bernards were treating the question -in the light of their profound knowledge. And it is here, just here, between the first -and second pair of legs, on <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>the median line of the lower surface, that the Wasp inserts her dirk. By what expert -instinct is she inspired? -</p> -<p>To select, as the spot wherein to drive her sting, the one vulnerable point, the point -which none save a physiologist versed in insect anatomy could determine beforehand: -even that is far from being enough. The Wasp has a much greater difficulty to surmount; -and she surmounts it with an ease that stupefies us. The nerve-centres governing the -locomotory organs of the insect are, we were saying, three in number. They are more -or less distant from one another; sometimes, but rarely, they are close together. -Altogether they possess a certain independence of action, so that an injury done to -any one of them induces, at any rate for the moment, the paralysis only of the limbs -that correspond with it, without affecting the other ganglia and the limbs which they -control. To strike in succession these three motor centres, each farther back than -the one before it, and to do so between the first and second pair of legs, seems an -impracticable operation for such a weapon as the Wasp’s sting, which is too short -and is besides very difficult to guide under such conditions. It is true that certain -Beetles have the three ganglia of the thorax very near together, almost touching, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>while others have the last two completely united, soldered, welded together. It is -also a recognized fact that, in proportion as the different nervous nuclei tend towards -a closer combination and greater centralization, the characteristic functions of animal -nature become more perfect and consequently, alas, more vulnerable. Here we have the -prey which the Cerceris really needs. Those Beetles with motor centres brought close -together or even gathered into a common mass, making them mutually dependent on one -another, will be at the same instant paralysed with a single stroke of the dagger; -or, if several strokes be needed, the ganglia to be stung will at any rate all be -there, collected under the point of the dart. -</p> -<p>Which Beetles are they, then, that constitute a prey so eminently convenient for paralysing? -That is the question. The lofty science of a Claude Bernard, concerning itself only -with the fundamental generalities of organism and life, would not suffice here; it -could never tell us how to make this entomological selection. I appeal to any physiologist -under whose eyes these lines may come. Without referring to his library, could he -name the Beetles in whom that centralization of the nervous system occurs; and, even -with the aid of his books, would he at once know where to find the desired <span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>information? The fact is that, with these minute details, we are now entering the -domain of the specialist; we are leaving the public road for the path known to the -few. -</p> -<p>I find the necessary information in M. Émile Blanchard’s fine work on the nervous -system of the Coleoptera.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e915src" href="#xd31e915">4</a> I see there that this centralization of the nervous system is the prerogative, in -the first place, of the Scarabæidæ, or Chafers; but most of these are too large: the -Cerceris could perhaps neither attack them nor carry them away; besides, many of them -live in the midst of ordure where the Wasp, herself so cleanly, would refuse to go -in search of them. Motor centres very close together are found also in the Histers, -who live on carrion and dung, in an atmosphere of loathsome smells, and who must therefore -be eliminated; in the Scolyti, who are too small; and lastly in the Buprestes and -the Weevils. -</p> -<p>What an unexpected light amid the original darkness of the problem! Among the immense -number of Beetles whereon the Cerceres might seem able to prey, only two groups, the -Weevils and the Buprestes, fulfil the indispensable conditions. They live far removed -from stench and filth, two qualities perhaps <span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>invincibly repugnant to the dainty huntress; their numerous representatives vary considerably -in size, in much the same way as their kidnappers, who can thus pick and choose the -victims that suit them; they are far more vulnerable than any of the others at the -one point where the Wasp’s dart can penetrate, for at this point the motor centres -of the feet and wings are crowded together, all easily accessible to the sting. At -this point, in the Weevils, the three thoracic ganglia are very close together, the -last two even touching; at the same point, in the Buprestes, the second and third -are mingled in one large mass, very near the first. And it is just Buprestes and Weevils -that we see hunted, to the absolute exclusion of all other game, by the eight species -of Cerceres whose provisions have been found to consist of Beetles! A certain inward -resemblance, that is to say, the centralization of the nervous system, must therefore -be the reason why the lairs of the different Cerceres are crammed with victims bearing -no outward resemblance whatever. -</p> -<p>The most exalted knowledge could make no more judicious choice than this, by which -so great a collection of difficulties is magnificently solved that we wonder if we -be not the dupes of some involuntary illusion, whether preconceived <span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>theoretic notions have not obscured the actual facts, whether, in short, the pen have -not described imaginary marvels. No scientific conclusion is firmly established until -it has received confirmation by means of practical tests, carried out in every variety -of way. We will therefore subject to experimental proof the physiological operation -of which the Great Cerceris has just apprised us. If it be possible to obtain artificially -what the Wasp obtains with her sting, namely, the abolition of movement and the continued -preservation of the patient in a perfectly fresh condition; if it be possible to work -this wonder with the Beetles hunted by the Cerceris, or with those presenting a similar -nervous centralization, while we are unsuccessful with Beetles whose ganglia are far -apart, then we shall be bound to admit, however hard to please we may be in the matter -of tests, that in the unconscious inspiration of her instinct the Wasp has all the -resources of consummate art. Let us see what experiment has to tell us. -</p> -<p>The operating method is of the simplest. It is a question of taking a needle, or, -better and more convenient, the point of a fine steel nib, and introducing a tiny -drop of some corrosive fluid into the thoracic motor centres, by pricking the insect -slightly at the junction of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>prothorax, behind the first pair of feet. The fluid which I employ is ammonia; but -obviously any other liquid as powerful in its action would produce the same results. -The nib being charged with ammonia as it might be with a very small drop of ink, I -give the prick. The effects obtained differ enormously, according to whether we experiment -upon species whose thoracic ganglia are close together or upon species in which those -same ganglia are far apart. In the first class, my experiments were made on Dung-beetles: -the Sacred Scarab<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e933src" href="#xd31e933">5</a> and the Wide-necked Scarab; on Buprestes: the Bronze Buprestis; lastly, on Weevils, -in particular on the Cleonus hunted by the heroine of this essay. In the second class, -I experimented on Ground-beetles: Carabi, Procrustes, Chlænii, Sphodri, Nebriæ; on -Longicornes: Saperdæ and Lamiæ; on Melasoma-beetles: Cellar-beetles, Scauri, Asidæ. -</p> -<p>In the Scarabæi, the Buprestes and the Weevils the effect is instantaneous: all movement -ceases suddenly, without convulsions, so soon as the fatal drop has touched the nerve-centres. -The Cerceris’ own sting produces no <span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>more speedy annihilation. There is nothing more striking than this immediate immobility -provoked in a powerful Sacred Beetle. -</p> -<p>But this is not the only resemblance between the effects produced by the Wasp’s sting -and those resulting from the nib poisoned with ammonia. The Scarabs, Buprestes and -Beetles artificially stung, notwithstanding their complete immobility, preserve for -three weeks, a month or even two the perfect flexibility of all their joints and the -normal freshness of their internal organs. Evacuation takes place with them during -the first days as in the normal state; and movements can be induced by the electric -battery. In a word, they behave exactly like the Beetles immolated by the Cerceris; -there is absolute identity between the state into which the kidnapper puts her victims -and that which we produce at will by injuring the thoracic nerve-centres with ammonia. -Now, as it is impossible to attribute the perfect preservation of the insect for so -long a period to the tiny drop injected, we must reject altogether any notion of an -antiseptic fluid and admit that, despite its perfect immobility, the insect is not -really dead, that it still retains a glimmer of life, which for some time to come -keeps the organs in their normal condition of freshness, but gradually fades out, -until at last <span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>it leaves them the prey of corruption. Besides, in some cases, the ammonia does not -produce complete annihilation of movement except in the insect’s legs; and then, as -the deleterious action of the liquid has doubtless not extended far enough, the antennæ -preserve a remnant of mobility and we see the insect, even more than a month after -the inoculation, draw them back quickly at the least touch: a convincing proof that -life has not entirely deserted the inanimate body. This movement of the antennæ is -also not uncommon in the Weevils wounded by the Cerceris. -</p> -<p>In every case the injection of ammonia at once stops all movement in Scarabs, Weevils -and Buprestes; but we do not always succeed in reducing the insect to the condition -just described. If the wound be too deep, if the drop administered be too strong, -the victim really dies; and, in two or three days’ time, we have nothing but a putrid -body before us. If the prick, on the other hand, be too slight, the insect, after -a longer or shorter period of deep torpor, comes to itself and at least partially -recovers its power of motion. The assailant herself may sometimes operate clumsily, -just like man, for I have noticed this sort of resurrection in a victim stung by the -dart of a Digger-wasp. The Yellow-winged Sphex, whose <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>story will shortly occupy our attention, stacks her lairs with young Crickets first -pricked with her poisoned lancet. I have extracted from one of those lairs three poor -Crickets whose extreme limpness would, in any other circumstances, have denoted death. -But here again death was only apparent. Placed in a flask, these Crickets kept in -very good condition, perfectly motionless all the time, for nearly three weeks. In -the end, two went mouldy, and the third partly revived, that is to say, he recovered -the power of motion in his antennæ, in his mouth-parts and, what is more remarkable, -in his first two pair of legs. If the Wasp’s skill sometimes fails to benumb the victim -permanently, one can hardly expect invariable success from man’s rough experiments. -</p> -<p>In the Beetles of the second class, that is to say, those whose thoracic ganglia are -some distance apart, the effect of the ammonia is quite different. The least vulnerable -are the Ground-beetles. A puncture which would have produced instant annihilation -of movement in a large Sacred Beetle produces nothing but violent and disordered convulsions -in the medium-sized Ground-beetles, be they Chlænius, Nebria or Calathus. Little by -little the insect quiets down and, after a few hours’ rest, its usual movements are -resumed as though it had <span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>met with no accident whatever. If we repeat the experiment on the same specimen, twice, -thrice, or four times over, the results remain the same, until the wound becomes too -serious and the insect actually dies, as is proved by its desiccation and putrefaction, -which follows soon after. -</p> -<p>The Melasoma-beetles and Longicornes are more sensitive to the action of the ammonia. -The injection of the corrosive drop pretty quickly renders them motionless; and, after -a few convulsions, the insect seems dead. But this paralysis, which would have persisted -in the Dung-beetles, the Weevils and the Buprestes, is only temporary here: within -a day, motion is once more apparent, as energetic as ever. It is only when the dose -of ammonia is of a certain strength that the movements fail to reappear; but then -the insect is dead, quite dead, for it soon begins to decay. It is impossible, therefore, -to produce complete and persistent paralysis in Beetles that have their ganglia far -apart by the same measures which proved so efficacious in Beetles with ganglia close -together: the utmost that we can obtain is a temporary paralysis whose effects pass -off within a day. -</p> -<p>The demonstration is conclusive; the Cerceres that prey on Beetles conform in their -selection to what could be taught only by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>most learned physiologists and the finest anatomists. One would vainly strive to see -no more in this than casual coincidences: it is not in chance that we shall find the -key to such harmonies as these. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e872"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e872src">1</a></span> Marie Jean Pierre Flourens (1794–1867), the celebrated French physiologist, appointed -perpetual secretary of the Academy of Science in 1833 and a member of the French Academy.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e872src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e876"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e876src">2</a></span> François Magendie (1783–1855), professor of anatomy in the <span lang="fr">Collège de France</span>, noted for his experiments on the physiology of the nerves.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e876src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e883"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e883src">3</a></span> Claude Bernard (1813–1878), another distinguished French physiologist and perhaps -the most famous representative of experimental science in the nineteenth century.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e883src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e915"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e915src">4</a></span> <i lang="fr">Annales des sciences naturelles</i>, Series III., vol. v.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e915src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e933"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e933src">5</a></span> For the Sacred Scarab, or Sacred Beetle, cf. <i>Insect Life</i>, by J. H. Fabre, translated by the author of <i>Mademoiselle Mori</i>: chaps. i. and ii.; and <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, i. to iv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e933src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e308">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter iv</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE YELLOW-WINGED SPHEX</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Under their powerful armour, which no dart can penetrate, the insects of the Beetle -tribe offer but a single vulnerable spot to the sting-bearing enemy. This defect in -the breastplate is known to the murderess, who drives in her poisoned dagger there -and at one blow strikes the three motor centres, for she selects her victims from -the Weevil and Buprestis families, whose nervous system is centralized to the requisite -degree. But what will happen when the prey is an insect clad not in mail but in a -soft skin, which the Wasp can stab here or there indifferently, in any part of the -body that chances to be exposed? In that case are the blows still delivered scientifically? -Like the assassin who strikes at the heart to cut short the dangerous resistance of -his victim, does the assailant follow the tactics of the Cerceres and wound the motor -ganglia by preference? If that be so, then what happens when these ganglia are some -distance apart and so independent <span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>in their action that paralysis of one is not necessarily followed by paralysis of -the others? These questions will be answered by the story of a Cricket-huntress, the -Yellow-winged Sphex (<i lang="la">Sphex flavipennis</i>). -</p> -<p>It is at the end of July that the Yellow-winged Sphex tears the cocoon that has protected -her until then and flies out of her subterranean cradle. During the whole of August -she is frequently seen flitting, in search of some drop of honey, around the spiked -heads of the field eryngo, the commonest of the hardy plants that brave the heat of -the dog-days in this month. But this careless life does not last long, for by the -beginning of September the Sphex is at her arduous task as a sapper and huntress. -She generally selects some small plateau, on the high banks by the side of the roads, -wherein to establish her home, provided that she find two indispensable things there: -a sandy soil, easy to dig; and sunshine. No other precaution is taken to protect the -dwelling against the autumn rains or winter frosts. A horizontal site, unprotected, -lashed by the rain and the winds, suits her perfectly, on condition, however, that -it is exposed to the sun. And, when a heavy shower comes in the middle of her mining, -it is pitiful next day to see the half-built galleries in ruins, choked <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>with sand and finally abandoned by their engineers. -</p> -<p>The Sphex seldom practises her industry alone; the site selected is usually exploited -by small bands of ten or twenty sappers or more. One must have spent days in contemplating -one of these villages to form any idea of the restless activity, the spasmodic haste, -the abrupt movements of those hard-working miners. The soil is rapidly attacked with -the rakes of the forefeet: <i lang="la">canis instar</i>, as Linnæus says. No mischievous puppy displays more energy in digging up the ground. -At the same time, each worker sings her glad ditty, which consists of a shrill and -strident noise, constantly broken off and modulated by the vibrations of the wings -and thorax. One would think that they were a troop of merry companions encouraging -one another in their work with a cadenced rhythm. Meanwhile the sand flies, falling -in a fine dust on their quivering wings; and the too bulky gravel, removed bit by -bit, rolls far away from the workyard. If a piece seems too heavy to be moved, the -insect gets up steam with a shrill note which reminds one of the woodman’s ‘Hoo!’ -Under the redoubled efforts of tarsi and mandibles the cave soon takes shape; the -insect is already able to dive into it bodily. We then see a lively alternation of -forward <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>movements, to loosen new materials, and backward movements, to sweep the rubbish outside. -In this constant hurrying to and fro the Sphex does not walk, she darts as though -shot from a spring; she bounds with throbbing abdomen and quivering antennæ, her whole -body, in short, animated with a musical vibration. The miner is now out of sight; -but we still hear underground her untiring song, while at intervals we catch a glimpse -of her hind-legs, pushing a torrent of sand backwards to the mouth of the burrow. -From time to time the Sphex interrupts her subterranean labours, either to come and -dust herself in the sun, to rid herself of the grains of sand which, slipping into -her delicate joints, might hamper the liberty of her movements, or else to reconnoitre -the neighbourhood. Despite these interruptions, which for that matter do not last -long, the gallery is dug in the space of a few hours; and the Sphex comes to her threshold -to chant her triumph and give the finishing polish to her work by removing some unevenness -and carrying away a speck or two of earth whose drawbacks are perceptible to her discerning -eye alone. -</p> -<p>Of the numerous tribes of Sphex-wasps which I have visited, one in particular remains -fixed in my memory because of its curious dwelling-place. <span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span>On the edge of a high-road were some small heaps of mud, taken from the ditches by -the road-mender’s shovel. One of these heaps, long ago dried in the sun, formed a -cone-shaped mound, resembling a large sugar-loaf twenty inches high. The site seemed -to have attracted the Wasps, who had established themselves there in a more populous -colony than I have ever since beheld. The cone of dry mud was riddled from top to -bottom with burrows, which gave it the appearance of an enormous sponge. On every -storey there was a feverish animation, a busy coming and going which reminded one -of the scenes in some great yard when the work is urgent. Crickets were being dragged -by the antennæ up the slopes of the conical city; victuals were being stored in the -larders of the cells; dust was pouring from the galleries in process of excavation -by the miners; grimy faces appeared at intervals at the mouths of the tunnels; there -were constant exits and constant entrances; and now and again a Sphex, in her brief -intervals of leisure, would climb to the top of the cone, perhaps to cast a look of -satisfaction from this belvedere over the works in general. What a spectacle to tempt -me, to make me long to carry the whole city and its inhabitants away with me! It was -useless even to try: the mass was too <span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>heavy. One cannot root up a village from its foundations to transplant it elsewhere. -</p> -<p>We will return, therefore, to the Sphex-wasps working on level ground, in ordinary -soil, as happens in by far the greater number of cases. As soon as the burrow is dug, -the chase begins. Let us profit by the Wasp’s distant excursions in search of her -game and examine the dwelling. The usual site of a Sphex colony is, as I said, level -ground. Nevertheless, the soil is not so smooth but that we find a few little mounds -crowned with a tuft of grass or wormwood, a few cracks consolidated by the scanty -roots of the vegetation that covers them. It is in the sides of these furrows that -the Sphex builds her dwelling. The gallery consists first of a horizontal portion, -two or three inches long and serving as an approach to the hidden retreat destined -for the provisions and the larvæ. It is in this entrance-passage that the Sphex takes -shelter in bad weather; it is here that she retires for the night and rests for a -few moments in the daytime, putting outside only her expressive face, with its great, -bold eyes. Following on the vestibule comes a sudden bend, which descends more or -less obliquely to a depth of two or three inches more and ends in an oval cell of -somewhat larger diameter, whose main axis lies horizontally. The walls <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>of the cell are not coated with any particular cement; but, in spite of their bareness, -we can see that they have been the object of the most conscientious labour. The sand -has been heaped up and carefully levelled on the floor, the ceiling and the sides, -so as to prevent landslips and remove any roughness that might hurt the delicate skin -of the grub. Lastly, this cell communicates with the passage by a narrow entrance, -just wide enough to admit the Sphex laden with her prey. -</p> -<p>When this first cell is supplied with an egg and the necessary provisions, the Sphex -walls up the entrance, but does not yet abandon her burrow. A second cell is dug beside -the first and victualled in the same way; then a third and sometimes a fourth. Not -till then does the Sphex shoot back into the burrow all the rubbish accumulated outside -the door and completely remove all the outward traces of her work. Thus, to each burrow -there are usually three cells, rarely two and still more rarely four. Now, as we ascertain -when dissecting the insect, we can estimate the number of eggs laid at about thirty, -which brings up to ten the number of burrows needed. On the other hand, the operations -are hardly begun before September and are finished by the end of the month. The Sphex, -therefore, can devote <span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>only two or three days at most to each burrow and its provisioning. No one will deny -that the active little creature has not a moment to lose, when, in so short a time, -she has to excavate her den, to procure a dozen Crickets, to carry them sometimes -from a distance in the face of innumerable difficulties, to store them away and finally -to stop up the burrow. And, besides, there are days when the wind makes hunting impossible, -rainy days or even merely grey days, which cause all work to be suspended. One can -readily imagine from this that the Sphex is unable to give to her buildings the perhaps -permanent solidity which the Great Cerceres bestow upon their long galleries. The -latter hand down from generation to generation their substantial dwellings, each year -excavated to a greater depth than the last, galleries which threw me into a sweat -when I tried to inspect them and which generally triumphed over my efforts and my -implements. The Sphex does not inherit the work of her predecessors: she has to do -everything for herself and quickly. Her dwelling is but a tent, hastily pitched for -a day and shifted on the morrow. As compensation, the larvæ, who have only a thin -layer of sand to cover them, are capable themselves of providing the shelter which -their mother could not create: they <span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span>clothe themselves in a threefold and fourfold waterproof wrapper, far superior to -the thin cocoon of the Cerceres. -</p> -<p>But here, with a loud buzz, comes a Sphex who, returning from the chase, stops on -a neighbouring bush, holding in her mandibles, by one antenna, a large Cricket, several -times her own weight. Exhausted by the burden, she takes a moment’s rest. Then she -once more grips her captive between her feet and, with a supreme effort, covers in -one flight the width of the ravine that separates her from her home. She alights heavily -on the level ground where I am watching, in the very middle of a Sphex village. The -rest of the journey is performed on foot. The Wasp, not at all intimidated by my presence, -bestrides her victim and advances, bearing her head proudly aloft and hauling the -Cricket, who trails between her legs, by an antenna held in her mandibles. If the -ground be bare, it is easy to drag the victim along; but, should some grass-tuft spread -the network of its shoots across the road, it is curious to observe the amazement -of the Sphex when one of these little ropes suddenly thwarts her efforts; it is curious -to witness her marches and counter-marches, her reiterated attempts, until the obstacle -is overcome, either with the aid of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span>wings or by means of a clever deviation. The Cricket is at last conveyed to his destination -and is so placed that his antennæ exactly touch the mouth of the burrow. The Sphex -then abandons her prey and descends hurriedly to the bottom of the cave. A few seconds -later we see her reappear, showing her head out of doors and giving a little cry of -delight. The Cricket’s antennæ are within her reach; she seizes them and the game -is brought quickly down to the lair. -</p> -<p>I still ask myself, without being able to find a sufficiently convincing solution, -the reason for these complicated proceedings at the moment when the Cricket is introduced -into the burrow. Instead of going down to her den alone, to reappear afterwards and -pick up the prey left for a time on the threshold, would not the Sphex have done better -to continue to drag the Cricket along the gallery as she does in the open air, seeing -that the width of the tunnel permits it, or else to go in first, backwards, and pull -him after her? The various Predatory Wasps whom I have hitherto been able to observe -carry down to their cells straight away, without preliminaries, the game which they -hold clasped beneath their bellies with the aid of their mandibles and their middle-legs. -Léon Dufour’s Cerceris begins by complicating her procedure, <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>because, after laying her Buprestis for a moment at the door of her underground home, -she at once enters her gallery backwards and then seizes the victim with her mandibles -and drags it to the bottom of the burrow. But it is a far cry from these tactics and -those adopted in a like case by the Cricket-hunters. Why that domiciliary visit which -invariably precedes the entrance of the game? Could it not be that, before descending -with a cumbrous burden, the Sphex thinks it wise to take a look at the bottom of her -dwelling, so as to make sure that all is well and, if necessary, to drive out some -brazen parasite who may have slipped in during her absence? If so, who is the parasite? -Several Diptera, Predatory Gnats, especially Tachinæ, watch at the doors of the Hunting -Wasps, spying for the propitious moment to lay their eggs on others’ provisions; but -none of them enters the home or ventures into the dark passages where the owner, if -by ill-luck she happened to be in, would perhaps make them pay dearly for their audacity. -The Sphex, like all the rest, pays her tribute to the plundering Tachinæ; but these -never enter the burrow to perpetrate their misdeeds. Besides, have they not all the -time that they need to lay their eggs on the Cricket? If they are sharp about it, -they can easily profit by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>temporary abandonment of the victim to entrust their progeny to it. Some greater danger -still must therefore threaten the Sphex, since her preliminary descent of the burrow -is of such imperious necessity. -</p> -<p>Here is the only fact observed by myself that may throw a little light on the problem. -Amid a colony of Sphex-wasps in full swing, a colony from which any other Wasp is -usually excluded, I one day surprised a huntress of a different genus, <i lang="la">Tachytes nigra</i>, carrying one by one, without hurrying, in the midst of the crowd where she was but -an intruder, grains of sand, bits of little dry stalks and other diminutive materials -to stop up a burrow of the same shape and width as the adjacent burrows of the Sphex. -The labour was too carefully performed to allow of any doubt of the presence of the -worker’s egg in the tunnel. A Sphex moving about uneasily, apparently the lawful owner -of the burrow, did not fail, each time that the strange Wasp entered the gallery, -to rush in pursuit of her; but she emerged swiftly, as though frightened, followed -by the other, who impassively continued her work. I inspected this burrow, evidently -an object in dispute between the two Wasps, and found in it a cell provisioned with -four Crickets. Suspicion almost makes way for certainty: these provisions <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>are far in excess of the needs of a Tachytes-grub, who is certainly not more than -half the size of the larva of the Sphex. She whose impassiveness, whose care to stop -up the burrow would at first have made one take her for the mistress of the house, -was in reality a mere usurper. How is it that the Sphex, who is larger and more powerful -than her adversary, allows herself to be robbed with impunity, confining herself to -fruitless pursuits and fleeing like a coward when the interloper, who does not even -appear to notice her presence, turns round to leave the burrow? Can it be that, in -insects as in man, the first chance of success lies in <i lang="fr">de l’audace, encore de l’audace et toujours de l’audace</i>? The usurper certainly had audacity and to spare. I see her still, with imperturbable -calmness, moving in and out in front of the complaisant Sphex, who stamps her feet -with impatience but does not fall upon the thief. -</p> -<p>I will add that, in other circumstances, I have repeatedly found the same Wasp, whom -I presume to be a parasite, in short the Black Tachytes, dragging a Cricket by one -of his antennæ. Was he a lawfully-acquired prey? I should like to think so; but the -vacillating behaviour of the insect, who went straying about the ruts in the roads -as though seeking for a <span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>burrow to suit it, always left me uncertain. I have never witnessed its digging-work, -if it really undertakes the labour of excavation. And, a more serious matter, I have -seen it leave its game on the rubbish-heap, perhaps not knowing what to do with it, -for lack of a burrow wherein to place it. Such wastefulness as this seems to me to -point to ill-gotten goods; and I ask myself if the Cricket were not stolen from the -Sphex at the moment when she abandoned her prey on the threshold. My suspicions also -fall upon <i lang="la">Tachytes obsoleta</i>, banded with white round the abdomen like <i lang="la">Sphex albisecta</i> and feeding her larvæ on Crickets similar to those hunted by the latter. I have never -seen her digging any galleries, but I have caught her with a Cricket whom the Sphex -would not have rejected. This identity of provisions in species of different genera -raises doubts in my mind as to the lawfulness of the booty. Let me add, lastly, to -atone in a measure for the injury which my suspicions may do to the reputation of -the genus, that I have been the eye-witness of a perfectly straightforward capture -of a small and still wingless Cricket by <i lang="la">Tachytes tarsina</i> and that I have seen her digging cells and victualling them with game acquired by -her own valiant exertions. -</p> -<p>I have therefore only suspicions to offer in <span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span>explanation of the obstinacy of the Sphex-wasps in going down their tunnels before -carrying in their prey. Can they have some other object besides that of dislodging -a parasite who may have arrived during their absence? This is what I despair of ever -knowing; for who can interpret the thousand ruses of instinct? Poor human reason, -which cannot even fathom the wisdom of a Sphex! -</p> -<p>At any rate, it has been proved that these ruses are singularly invariable. In this -connection I will mention an experiment which interested me greatly. Here are the -particulars: at the moment when the Sphex is making her domiciliary visit, I take -the Cricket left at the entrance to the dwelling and place her a few inches farther -away. The Sphex comes up, utters her usual cry, looks here and there in astonishment, -and, seeing the game too far off, comes out of her hole to seize it and bring it back -to its right place. Having done this, she goes down again, but alone. I play the same -trick upon her; and the Sphex has the same disappointment on her arrival at the entrance. -The victim is once more dragged back to the edge of the hole, but the Wasp always -goes down alone; and this goes on as long as my patience is not exhausted. Time after -time, forty times over, did I repeat the <span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>same experiment on the same Wasp; her persistency vanquished mine and her tactics -never varied. -</p> -<p>Having demonstrated the same inflexible obstinacy which I have just described in the -case of all the Sphex-wasps on whom I cared to experiment in the same colony, I continued -to worry my head over it for some time. What I asked myself was this: -</p> -<p>‘Does the insect obey a fatal tendency, which no circumstances can ever modify? Are -its actions all performed by rule; and has it no power of acquiring the least experience -on its own account?’ -</p> -<p>Some additional observations modified this too absolute view. Next year I visit the -same spot at the proper season. The new generation has inherited the burrowing-site -selected by the previous generation; it has also faithfully inherited its tactics: -the experiment of withdrawing the Cricket yields the same results. Such as last year’s -Sphex-wasps were, such are those of the present year, equally persistent in a fruitless -procedure. The illusion was simply growing worse, when good fortune brought me into -the presence of another colony of Sphex-wasps, in a district at some distance from -the first. I recommenced my attempts. After two or three experiments with results -similar to <span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>those which I had so often obtained, the Sphex got astride of the Cricket, seized -him with her mandibles by the antennæ, and at once dragged him into the burrow. Who -was the fool now? Why, the experimenter foiled by the clever Wasp! At the other holes, -her neighbours likewise, one sooner, another later, discovered my treachery and entered -the dwelling with the game, instead of persisting in abandoning it on the threshold -to seize it afterwards. What did all this mean? The colony which I was now inspecting, -descended from another stock—for the children return to the site selected by their -parents—was cleverer than the colony of the year before. Craft is handed down: there -are tribes that are sharper-witted and tribes that are duller-witted, apparently according -to the faculties of their elders. With the Sphex as with us, the intellect differs -with the province. -</p> -<p>Next day, in a different locality, I repeated my experiment with another Cricket; -and every time the Sphex was hoodwinked. I had come upon a dense-minded tribe, a regular -village of Bœotians, as in my first observations. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e317">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter v</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE THREE DAGGER-THRUSTS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">There is no doubt that the Sphex displays her most cunning resources at the moment -of immolating a Cricket; it is important, therefore, to ascertain the manner wherein -the victim is sacrificed. Profiting by the repeated attempts which I had made when -I was studying the tactics of the Cerceres, I at once applied to the Sphex the method -which had succeeded with the other Wasps, a method that consisted in taking the prey -from the huntress and forthwith replacing it by another, living prey. The substitution -is all the easier inasmuch as we have seen the Sphex herself releasing her victim -in order to go down the burrow for a moment alone. Her daring familiarity, which makes -her come and take from your fingers and even out of your hand the Cricket whom you -have stolen from her and now offer her again, also lends itself admirably to the successful -issue of the experiment, by allowing you to observe every detail of the drama closely. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span></p> -<p>Again, to find live Crickets is an easy matter: we have but to lift the first stone -that we see and we find them crouching underneath, sheltered from the sun. These Crickets -are young ones, of the same year, who as yet boast but rudimentary wings and who, -not possessing the industry of the full-grown insect, have not learnt to dig those -cavernous retreats where they would be safe from the Sphex’ investigations. In a few -moments I have as many live Crickets as I could wish for. This completes my preparations. -I climb to the top of my observatory, establish myself on the level ground, in the -centre of the Sphex village, and wait. -</p> -<p>A huntress appears upon the scene, carts her Cricket to the entrance of the home and -goes down her burrow by herself. I quickly remove the Cricket and substitute one of -mine, placing him, however, some distance away from the hole. The kidnapper returns, -looks round, and runs and seizes the victim, which is too far off for her. I am all -eyes, all attention. Nothing would induce me to give up my part in the tragic spectacle -which I am about to witness. The terrified Cricket takes to flight, hopping as fast -as he can; the Sphex pursues him hot-foot, reaches him, rushes upon him. There follows, -amid the dust, a confused encounter, wherein each champion, now victor, now vanquished, -by <span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>turns is at the top or at the bottom. Success, for a moment undecided, at last crowns -the aggressor’s efforts. Despite his vigorous kicks, despite the snaps of his pincer-like -mandibles, the Cricket is laid low and stretched upon his back. -</p> -<p>The murderess soon makes her arrangements. She places herself belly to belly with -her adversary, but in the opposite direction, grasps one of the threads at the tip -of the Cricket’s abdomen with her mandibles and masters with her fore-legs the convulsive -efforts of his thick hinder thighs. At the same time, her middle-legs hug the heaving -sides of the beaten insect; and her hind-legs, pressing like two levers on the front -of the head, force the joint of the neck to open wide. The Sphex then curves her abdomen -vertically, so as to offer only an unattackable convex surface to the Cricket’s mandibles; -and we see, not without emotion, its poisoned lancet drive once into the victim’s -neck, next into the joint of the front two segments of the thorax, and lastly towards -the abdomen. In less time than it takes to relate, the murder is consummated; and -the Sphex, after adjusting the disorder of her toilet, makes ready to haul home the -victim, whose limbs are still quivering in the throes of death. -</p> -<p>Let us consider for a moment the excellence <span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>of the tactics of which I have given a feeble glimpse. The Cerceris attacks a passive -adversary, incapable of flight, almost devoid of offensive weapons, whose sole chances -of safety lie in a stout cuirass, the weak point of which, however, is known to the -murderess. But what a difference here! The quarry is armed with dreadful mandibles, -capable of disembowelling the assailant if they succeed in seizing her; it sports -a pair of powerful legs, regular clubs bristling with a double row of sharp spikes, -which can be used either to enable the Cricket to hop out of his enemy’s reach, or -to send her sprawling with brutal kicks. Observe, therefore, the precautions which -the Sphex takes before setting her sting in motion. The victim, turned upon his back, -cannot, for lack of any purchase, use his hind-levers to escape with, which he certainly -would do if he were attacked in the normal position, as are the big Weevils of the -Great Cerceris. His spurred legs, mastered by the Sphex’ fore-feet, cannot act as -offensive weapons either; and his mandibles, kept at a distance by the Wasp’s hind-legs, -open in wide menace without being able to seize a thing. But it is not enough for -the Sphex to render her Cricket incapable of hurting her; she must also hold him so -firmly pinioned that he cannot make the slightest <span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>movement capable of diverting the sting from the points at which the poison is to -be injected; and it is probably with the object of stilling the movements of the abdomen -that one of its terminal threads is grasped. No, if a fertile imagination had allowed -itself free scope to invent a plan of attack at will, it could not have contrived -anything better; and it is open to doubt whether the athletes of the classic <i lang="la">palestræ</i>, when grappling with an adversary, boasted more scientific attitudes. -</p> -<p>I have said that the sting is driven several times into the patient’s body: first -under the neck, then behind the prothorax, next and lastly towards the top of the -abdomen. It is in these three dagger-thrusts that the infallibility and the intuitive -science of instinct appear in all their splendour. Let us first recall the principal -conclusions to which our earlier study of the Cerceris has led us. The victims of -the Wasps whose larvæ live on prey are not proper corpses, in spite of their immobility, -which is sometimes complete. They suffer simply from a total or partial locomotory -paralysis, from a more or less thorough annihilation of animal life; but vegetable -life, the life of the organs of nutrition, is maintained for a long while yet and -preserves from decomposition the prey which the larva is not to devour <span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>for some time to come. To produce this paralysis the Hunting Wasps employ precisely -the process which the advanced science of our own day might suggest to the experimental -physiologists, that is to say, they injure, by means of their poisoned sting, the -nerve-centres that control the locomotory organs. We know besides that the several -centres or ganglia of the nervous system of articulate animals are, within certain -limits, independent of one another in their action, so that an injury to any one of -them does not, or at any rate not immediately, entail more than the paralysis of the -corresponding segment; and this applies all the more when the different ganglia are -farther apart. When, on the other hand, they are welded together, the lesion of this -common centre induces paralysis of all the segments over which its ramifications are -distributed. This is the case with the Buprestes and the Weevils, whom the Cerceres -paralyse with a single thrust of the sting, aimed at the common mass of the nerve-centres -of the thorax. But open a Cricket. What do we find to set the three pairs of legs -in motion? We find what the Sphex knew long before the anatomists: three nerve-centres -at a great distance one from the other. Hence the magnificent logic of her needle-thrusts -thrice repeated. Proud science, bend the knee! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span></p> -<p>Despite the appearances that might make us think otherwise, the Crickets immolated -by the Yellow-winged Sphex are no more dead than the Weevils pierced by the Cerceris’ -dart. The flexibility of the victims’ integuments, faithfully revealing the slightest -internal movement, enables us in this case to dispense with the artificial methods -which I employed to demonstrate the presence of a remnant of life in the Cleoni of -the Great Cerceris. In fact, if we assiduously observe a Cricket stretched on his -back, a week, a fortnight even or more after the murder, we see the abdomen heaving -deeply at long intervals. Pretty often we can still perceive a few quiverings in the -palpi and exceedingly-pronounced movements on the part of both the antennæ and the -abdominal threads, which diverge and separate and then suddenly come together. I have -succeeded, by placing the sacrificed Crickets in glass tubes, in keeping them perfectly -fresh for a month and a half. Consequently, the Sphex-grubs, which live for less than -a fortnight before shrouding themselves in their cocoons, are certain of fresh meat -until their banquet is finished. -</p> -<p>The chase is over; the three or four Crickets that are the allotted portion of each -cell are stacked methodically, lying on their backs, with their heads at the far end -of the cell and their <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>feet at the entrance. An egg is laid on one of them. The burrow must now be closed. -The sand resulting from the excavation, which is lying in a heap outside the front-door, -is quickly swept backwards down the passage. From time to time some fair-sized bits -of gravel are picked out singly, by scratching the heap of rubbish with the fore-feet, -and carried with the mandibles to strengthen the crumbly mass. Should the Wasp find -none within reach to suit her, she goes and searches for them in the neighbourhood, -and seems to choose them as conscientiously as a mason would choose the chief stones -for his building. Vegetable remains, tiny fragments of dead leaves, are also employed. -In a few moments every outward trace of the underground dwelling has disappeared; -and, if we have not been careful to mark the site of the abode, it becomes impossible -for the most watchful eye to find it again. When this is finished, a new burrow is -dug, provisioned and walled up as often as the teeming ovaries demand. Having completed -the laying of her eggs, the Sphex resumes her careless, vagrant life, until the first -cold snap puts an end to her well-filled existence. -</p> -<p>The Sphex’ task is accomplished; and I will finish mine with an examination of her -weapon. The organ destined for the elaboration of her <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>poison consists of two prettily-ramified tubes, ending separately in a common reservoir -or phial, shaped like a pea. From this phial starts a slender channel which runs down -the axis of the sting and conducts the little drop of poison to its tip. The dimensions -of the lancet are very small and not such as one would expect from the size of the -Sphex, and especially from the effects which its prick produces on the Crickets. The -point is quite smooth and entirely deprived of those backward indentations which we -find in the Hive-bee’s sting. The reason for this is obvious. The Bee uses her sting -only to avenge an injury, even at the cost of her life; and the teeth of the dart -resist its withdrawal from the wound and thus cause mortal ruptures in the viscera -at the extremity of the abdomen. What would the Sphex have done with a weapon that -would have been fatal to her on her first expedition? Supposing that the dart could -be withdrawn in spite of its teeth, I doubt whether any Hymenopteron using her weapon -chiefly to wound the game destined for her larvæ would be supplied with a toothed -sting. With her, the dirk is not a show weapon, unsheathed to satisfy revenge: revenge, -the so-called pleasure of the gods, but a very costly pleasure, for the vindictive -Bee sometimes pays for it with her life; it is an implement for use, <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>a tool, on which the future of the grubs depends. It must therefore be one easy to -wield in the struggle with the captured prey; it must be capable of being inserted -in the flesh and withdrawn without the least hesitation, a condition much better fulfilled -by a smooth than by a barbed blade. -</p> -<p>I wished to find out at my own expense if the Sphex’ sting is very painful, this sting -which lays low sturdy victims with terrible rapidity. Well, I confess with profound -admiration that it is insignificant and bears no comparison, for intensity of pain, -with the stings of the irascible Bees and Social Wasps. It hurts so little that, instead -of using the forceps, I would not scruple to take in my fingers any live Sphex-wasps -that I needed in my experiments. I can say the same of the different Cerceres, of -the Philanthi,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1096src" href="#xd31e1096">1</a> of the Palari, of even the huge Scoliæ,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1105src" href="#xd31e1105">2</a> whose very view inspires dismay, and, generally speaking, of all the Hunting Wasps -that I have been able to observe. I make an exception of the Spider-huntresses, the -Pompili;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1111src" href="#xd31e1111">3</a> and even <span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>then their sting is much less painful than the Bees’. -</p> -<p>One last word: we know how furiously the Hymenoptera armed with a purely defensive -dart—the Social Wasps, for instance—rush upon him who is bold enough to disturb their -dwelling-house and punish him for his temerity. On the other hand, those whose sting -is intended for killing game are very pacific, as though they were aware of the importance -which the little drop of poison in their phial possesses for their family. This tiny -drop is the safeguard of their race, I might say, its livelihood; and so they are -very economical in its use, reserving it for the serious business of the chase, without -any parade of vindictive courage. I was not once punished with a sting when I established -myself amid the villages of our various Hunting Wasps, though I overturned their nests -and stole the larvæ and the provisions. You must lay hold of the insect to make it -use its weapon; and even then it does not always pierce the skin, unless you place -within its reach a part more delicate than the fingers, such as, for instance, the -wrist. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1096"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1096src">1</a></span> For <i lang="la">Philanthus Apivorus</i>, the Bee-eating Wasp, cf. <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>, by J. H. Fabre, translated by Bernard Miall: chap. xiii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1096src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1105"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1105src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. xi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1105src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1111"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1111src">3</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. xii.—<i>Translators Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1111src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e325">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter vi</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE LARVA AND THE NYMPH</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The egg of the Yellow-winged Sphex is white, elongated, cylindrical, slightly bow-shaped -and measures three to four millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1128src" href="#xd31e1128">1</a> in length. So far from being laid anywhere on the victim, at random, it is deposited -on a specially favoured spot, which is always the same; in short, it is placed across -the Cricket’s breast, a little to one side, between the first and second pair of legs. -The egg of the White-edged Sphex and that of the Languedocian Sphex occupy a similar -position: the first on the breast of a Locust, the second on the breast of an Ephippiger.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1132src" href="#xd31e1132">2</a> The point selected must present some peculiarity of great importance to the young -larva’s safety, for I have never known it to vary. -</p> -<p>The egg hatches after three or four days. A very delicate wrapper tears asunder; and -there lies before our eyes a feeble grub, transparent as crystal, a little attenuated -and as it <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>were compressed in front, slightly swollen at the back and adorned on either side -with a narrow white thread formed of the principal trachean ducts. The frail creature -occupies the same position as the egg. Its head is, so to speak, planted at the very -spot where the upper end of the egg was fixed; and all the remainder simply rests -upon the victim, without being fastened to it. The grub’s transparency enables us -readily to distinguish rapid undulations inside it, ripples which follow one upon -the other with mathematical regularity and which, beginning in the middle of the body, -spread some forward and some backward. These fluctuating movements are due to the -digestive canal, which takes long draughts of the juices drawn from the victim’s body. -</p> -<p>Let us dwell for a moment upon a sight which cannot fail to attract our attention. -The Wasp’s prey lies on its back, motionless. In the cell of the Yellow-winged Sphex -it is a Cricket, or rather three or four Crickets stacked one atop the other; in the -cell of the Languedocian Sphex it is a single head of game, but large in proportion, -a fat-bellied Ephippiger. The grub is lost should it happen to be torn from the spot -whence it derives life; a fall would be the end of it, for, weak as it is and deprived -of all means of motion, how could it <span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>make its way back to the spot at which it slakes its appetite? The slightest movement -would enable the victim to rid itself of the atom gnawing at its entrails; and yet -the gigantic prey submits meekly, without the least quiver of protest. I well know -that it is paralysed, that it has lost the use of its legs through the sting of its -murderess; but still, recent victim that it is, it retains more or less power of movement -and sensation in the regions not affected by the dart. The abdomen throbs, the mandibles -open and close, the abdominal filaments wave to and fro, as do the antennæ. What would -happen if the worm were to bite into one of the still impressionable parts, near the -mandibles, or even on the belly, which, being more tender and more succulent, seems -as though it ought, after all, to supply the first mouthfuls of the feeble grub? Bitten -to the quick, the Cricket, Locust or Ephippiger would at least shiver; and this faint -tremor of the skin would be enough to shake off the tiny larva and bring it to the -ground, where it would no doubt perish, for it might at any moment find itself in -the grips of those dreadful mandibles. -</p> -<p>But there is one part of the body where no such danger is to be feared, the part which -the Wasp has wounded with her sting—in short, <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>the thorax. Here and here alone, on a victim of recent date, the experimenter can -rummage with a needle, driving it through and through, without producing a sign of -suffering in the patient. Well, it is here that the egg is invariably laid; it is -here that the young larva always takes its first bite at its prey. Gnawed at a point -no longer susceptible to pain, the Cricket remains motionless. Later, when the wound -has reached a sensitive point, he will doubtless toss about to such extent as he can; -but then it will be too late: his torpor will be too deep; and besides the enemy will -have gained strength. This explains why the egg is laid on a spot which never varies, -near the wounds caused by the sting—in short, on the thorax: not in the middle, where -the skin would perhaps be too thick for the new-born grub, but on one side, towards -the juncture of the legs, where it is much thinner. What a judicious choice, how logical -on the part of the mother when, underground, in complete darkness, she discerns the -one suitable spot on the victim and selects it for her egg! -</p> -<p>I have reared Sphex-grubs by giving them, one after the other, the Crickets taken -from the cells; and I was then able to follow day by day the rapid progress of my -nurselings. The first Cricket, the one on whom the egg was <span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span>laid, is attacked, as I have said, near the point where the huntress administered -her second sting, that is to say, between the first and second pair of legs. In a -few days the young larva has dug in the victim’s breast a hollow large enough to admit -half its body. It is not uncommon to see the Cricket, bitten to the quick, uselessly -waving his antennæ and his abdominal threads, opening and closing his mandibles on -space and even moving a leg. But the enemy is safe and is ransacking his entrails -with impunity. What an awful nightmare for the paralysed Cricket! -</p> -<p>The first ration is finished in six or seven days’ time; none of it remains but the -framework of skin, with all its parts more or less in position. The larva, whose length -is now twelve millimetres,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1154src" href="#xd31e1154">3</a> leaves the Cricket’s body through the hole in the thorax which it made to start with. -During this operation it moults; and its cast skin often remains caught in the opening -through which it made its exit. It rests after the moulting and then attacks a second -ration. Being stronger now, the larva has nothing to fear from the feeble movements -of the Cricket, whose daily-increasing torpor has had time to extinguish the last -glimmers of resisting-power during the week and more <span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>that has elapsed since the dagger-thrusts were given. It is therefore assailed with -no precautions, usually at the belly, which is the tenderest part and the richest -in juices. Soon the turn comes of the third Cricket and lastly of the fourth, who -is devoured in ten hours or so. Of these last three victims all that remains is the -tough integuments, whose various parts are severed one by one and carefully emptied. -If a fifth ration be presented, the larva scorns it, or hardly touches it, not from -abstemiousness, but from imperious necessity. For observe that hitherto the larva -has ejected no excrement and that its intestines, into which four Crickets have been -crammed, are distended to bursting-point. A new ration cannot therefore tempt its -gluttony; and henceforth it thinks only of making itself a silken tabernacle. -</p> -<p>In all, its repast has lasted from ten to twelve days without cessation. At this period -the larva’s length measures from twenty-five to thirty millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1162src" href="#xd31e1162">4</a> and its greatest breadth from five to six.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1166src" href="#xd31e1166">5</a> Its general outline, spreading a little at the back and gradually tapering in front, -conforms with the usual type of Hymenopteron-grubs. Its segments are fourteen in number, -including the head, which is very <span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span>small and armed with weak mandibles that would appear unequal to the part which they -have just played. Of these fourteen segments the middle ones are supplied with stigmata, -or breathing-holes. Its livery consists of a yellowish-white ground, studded with -innumerable dots of a chalky white. -</p> -<p>We have seen the larva begin its second Cricket with the belly, the juiciest and softest -part. Like a child, which first licks the jam off its bread and then bites into the -crumb with a disdainful tooth, the larva makes straight for the best part, the abdominal -viscera, and leaves until later the meat that has to be patiently extracted from its -horny sheath: a task for a leisure hour, when it is comfortably digesting the earlier -meal. Nevertheless, the grub, when quite young, when newly hatched, is not so dainty: -it goes for the bread first and the jam afterwards. It has no choice: it is obliged -to bite its first mouthful right out of the breast, at the spot where the mother fixed -the egg. The food here is a little harder, but the place is safe, because of the profound -inertia into which the thorax has been plunged by three thrusts of the dagger. Elsewhere -there would be, if not always, at least often, spasmodic shudders which would dislodge -the feeble grub and expose it to terrible hazards <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>among a heap of victims whose hind-legs, toothed like saws, might give an occasional -jerk and whose mandibles might still be capable of snapping. It is therefore the question -of safety and not of the grub’s likes or dislikes that determines the mother’s choice -in placing the egg. -</p> -<p>And here a suspicion occurs to my mind. The first ration, the Cricket on whom the -egg is laid, exposes the grub to more parlous risks than do the others. To begin with, -the larva is still but a frail worm; and then the victim is quite a recent one and -therefore most likely to give evidence of a spark of life. This first victim has to -be paralysed as completely as possible: consequently it receives the Wasp’s three -dagger-thrusts. But the others, whose torpor deepens the older they grow, the others -whom the larva attacks after it has gained in strength: do they need to be operated -on as carefully? Might not one prick be enough, or two pricks, the effects of which -would spread little by little while the grub is consuming its first ration? The poison-fluid -is too precious for the Wasp to lavish it unnecessarily: it is hunting-ammunition, -to be employed with due economy. At any rate, though I have witnessed three consecutive -stabs given to the same victim, at other times I have seen only <span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>two administered. It is true that the quivering tip of the Sphex’ abdomen seemed to -be seeking the favourable spot for a third wound; but, if it was really given, it -escaped me. I should therefore be inclined to think that the victim forming the first -ration is always stabbed thrice, whereas the others, from motives of economy, receive -only two stings. Our study of the Ammophilæ, who hunt Caterpillars, will confirm this -suspicion later. -</p> -<p>After devouring the last Cricket the larva sets about weaving its cocoon. The work -is finished well within forty-eight hours. Henceforth the skilful worker, safe within -her impenetrable shelter, can yield to the irresistible lethargy that invades her, -to that nameless mode of existence, neither sleep nor waking, neither death nor life, -from which she will emerge, ten months from now, transfigured. Very few cocoons are -so complicated as hers. It consists, in fact, in addition to a coarse outer network, -of three distinct layers, presenting the appearance of three cocoons one inside the -other. Let us examine in detail these several courses of the silken edifice. -</p> -<p>There is first an open woof, of a rough cobweb texture, whereon the larva begins by -isolating itself, hanging as in a hammock, to work more easily at the cocoon proper. -This <span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>unfinished net, hastily woven to serve as a builder’s scaffolding, is made of threads -flung out at random, which hold together grains of sand, bits of earth and the leavings -of the larva’s feast: the Cricket’s thighs, still braided with red, his shanks and -pieces of his skull. The next covering, which is the first covering of the cocoon -proper, consists of a much-creased felted tunic, light-red in colour, very fine and -very flexible. A few threads flung out here and there join it to the previous scaffolding -and to the second wrapper. It forms a cylindrical wallet, closed on every side and -too large for its contents, thus causing the surface to wrinkle. -</p> -<p>Next comes an elastic sheath, distinctly smaller than the wallet that contains it, -almost cylindrical, rounded at the upper end, towards which the larva’s head is turned, -and finishing in a blunt cone at the lower end. Its colour is still light-red, save -towards the cone at the bottom, where the shade is darker. Its consistency is pretty -firm; nevertheless, it yields to moderate squeezing, except in its conical part, which -resists the pressure of the fingers and seems to contain a hard substance. On opening -this sheath, we see that it is formed of two layers closely applied one to the other, -but easily separated. The outer layer is a silk <span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>felt, exactly like that of the wallet which comes before; the inner layer, the third -layer of the cocoon, is a sort of shellac, a shiny wash of a dark violet-brown, brittle, -very soft to the touch, and of a nature apparently quite different from the rest of -the cocoon. We see, in fact, under the microscope that, instead of being a felt of -silky threads like the previous wrapper, it is a homogeneous coating of a peculiar -varnish, whose origin is rather singular, as we shall see. As for the resistance of -the cone-shaped end of the cocoon, we discover that this is due to a plug of crumbly -matter, violet-black and sparkling with a number of black particles. This plug is -the dried mass of the excrement which the larva ejects, once and for all, inside the -cocoon itself. The same stercoral kernel also causes the darker shade of the cone-shaped -end of the cocoon. The complicated dwelling averages twenty-seven millimetres in length, -while its greatest width is nine millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1190src" href="#xd31e1190">6</a> -</p> -<p>Let us return to the violet varnish that lines the inside of the cocoon. I thought -at first that I must attribute it to the silk-glands, which, after giving a glossy -coat to the double wrapper of silk and the scaffolding, have still a secret store -of the fluid. To convince myself, I opened some larvæ which had just finished <span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>their work as weavers and had not yet begun to apply their lacquer. At that period -I saw no trace of violet fluid in the silk-glands. This shade is found only in the -digestive canal, which bulges with a purple-coloured pulp; we find it also, but later, -in the stercoral plug relegated to the lower end of the cocoon. With this exception, -everything is white, or faintly tinged with yellow. Far be it from me to suggest that -the larva plasters its cocoon with its excreta; and yet I am convinced that this plaster -is a product of the digestive organs and I suspect, though I cannot say for certain—having -been clumsy enough several times to miss a favourable opportunity of making sure—that -the larva disgorges and applies with its mouth the quintessence of the purple pulp -from its stomach in order to form the shellac glaze. Only after this last performance -would it reject its digestive residuum in a single lump; and this would explain the -unpleasant necessity in which the larva finds itself of making room for its excreta -inside its actual habitation. -</p> -<p>Be this as it may, there can be no doubt about the usefulness of the coating of shellac; -its complete impermeability must protect the larva against the damp which would certainly -attack it in the precarious refuge dug for it by the mother. Remember that the larva -is <span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>buried only a few inches down in uncovered, sandy ground. To judge to what extent -the cocoons thus varnished are able to resist the damp, I kept some steeped in water -for several days on end, without afterwards finding a trace of moisture inside them. -Compare the Sphex’ cocoon, with its manifold linings, which are so well adapted for -the protection of the larva in an unprotected burrow, with the cocoon of the Great -Cerceris, lying under the dry shelter of a slab of sandstone and at a distance of -eighteen or twenty inches underground: this cocoon has the shape of a very long pear, -with the narrow end lopped off. It consists of a single silken wrapper, so thin and -fine that the larva shows through it. In my numerous entomological investigations -I have always seen the larva’s industry and the mother’s thus making good each other’s -deficiencies. In a deep, well-sheltered abode, the cocoon is of a light material; -in a surface dwelling, exposed to the inclemencies of the weather, the cocoon is stoutly -built. -</p> -<p>Nine months elapse, during which a task is performed wherein all is mystery. I skip -this period, filled with the dead secret of the transformation, and, to come to the -nymph, pass at once from the end of September to the first days of the following June. -The larva has cast its <span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>withered slough; the nymph, that transitory organism, or rather that perfect insect -in swaddling-bands, motionlessly awaits the awakening which will not take place for -another month to come. The legs, the antennæ, the exposed mouth-parts and the wing-stumps -have the appearance of clearest crystal and lie evenly spread under the thorax and -the abdomen. The rest of the body is an opaque white, very faintly smeared with yellow. -The middle four segments of the abdomen carry a narrow and blunt extension on either -side. The last segment, terminating above in a blade-like expansion shaped like the -sector of a circle, is equipped below with two conical protuberances set side by side: -this makes in all eleven appendages studding the outline of the abdomen. Such is the -delicate creature which, to become a Sphex, must don a motley livery of black and -red and throw off the fine skin in which it is closely swathed. -</p> -<p>I was curious to follow from day to day the appearance and the progress of the nymph’s -colouring and to test whether the light of the sun, that rich palette whence nature -derives her colours, could influence that progress. With this object, I took pupæ -from their cocoons and put them in glass tubes, of which some, kept in complete darkness, -realized the natural conditions <span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>of the nymphs and served me as a standard of comparison, while the others, hung against -a white wall, received a strong diffused light throughout the day. Under these diametrically -opposed conditions, the evolution of the colours remained absolutely uniform in both -cases, or, if there were some slight discrepancies, these were to the disadvantage -of the pupæ exposed to the light. It is, therefore, exactly the reverse of what happens -in the case of plants: light does not affect the colouring of insects, does not even -accelerate the process; and this must be so, because, in the species which are the -most brilliant in colouring, the Buprestes and Ground-beetles, for instance, the wondrous -hues which one would imagine to be stolen from a sunbeam are really elaborated in -the dusky bowels of the earth or deep down in the decaying trunk of some venerable -tree. -</p> -<p>The first outlines of colour show on the eyes, whose faceted cornea changes successively -from white to fawn, next to slate-grey, lastly to black. The simple eyes at the top -of the forehead, the ocelli, share in this colouring, in their turn, before the rest -of the body has yet lost any of its neutral, white tint. It should be remarked that -this early development of the most delicate organ, the eye, is general in all animals. -Later, a smoky line appears on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span>upper part of the groove separating the mesothorax and the metathorax; and, twenty-four -hours later, the whole back of the metathorax is black. At the same time, the edge -of the prothorax becomes shaded, a black dot appears in the central and upper part -of the metathorax, and the mandibles assume a rusty tinge. Gradually a deeper and -deeper shade creeps over the two end segments of the thorax and finally reaches the -head and the hind-quarters. A day is enough to turn the smoky hue of the head and -of the end segments deep black. Thereupon the abdomen begins to share in the rapidly-increasing -coloration. The edge of its front segments is tinted saffron; and its hinder segments -acquire a dull-black border. Lastly, the antennæ and legs, after passing through darker -and darker shades, turn black; the lower part of the abdomen is now entirely orange-red -and the tip black. The livery is complete except for the tarsi and the mouth-parts, -which are a transparent red, and the wing-stumps, which are dull black. In four-and-twenty -hours the nymph will burst its fetters. -</p> -<p>It takes the nymph only six or seven days to don its final tints, omitting the eyes, -whose colouring precedes that of the rest of the body by fourteen or fifteen days. -The law governing <span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>the insect’s chromatic evolution is easily gathered from this brief sketch. We see -that, with the exception of the eyes and the ocelli, whose early development recalls -what takes place in the higher animals, the starting-point of the coloration is a -central spot, the mesothorax, whence it gradually invades, by centrifugal progression, -first the rest of the thorax, then the head and abdomen, lastly the different appendages, -the legs and antennæ. The tarsi and the mouth-parts colour later still; and the wings -do not assume their hue until after they are taken from their cases. -</p> -<p>We now have the Sphex arrayed in her livery. She has yet to cast her nymphal wrapper. -This is a very fine tunic, moulded exactly in accordance with the smallest structural -details and scarcely veiling the shape and colours of the perfect insect. As a prelude -to the last act of the metamorphosis, the Sphex, suddenly shaking off her torpor, -begins to move about violently, as though to call her long-numbed limbs to life. The -abdomen is alternately lengthened and shortened; the legs are abruptly extended, then -bent, then extended again; and their different joints are stiffened with an effort. -The insect, using its head and the tip of its abdomen as a lever, with the ventral -surface underneath, repeatedly distends <span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span>with vigorous jerks the joint of the neck and that of the peduncle connecting the -abdomen and the thorax. At last its efforts are crowned with success; and, after a -quarter of an hour of these rough gymnastics, the scabbard, tugged in every direction, -rips open at the neck, at the point where the legs are attached and near the peduncle -of the abdomen, in short, wherever the mobility of the parts has permitted any violent -dislocation to take place. -</p> -<p>All these rents in the veil that is being cast result in a number of irregular shreds, -whereof the largest envelops the abdomen and runs up the back of the thorax. To this -shred belong the wing-cases. A second shred covers the head. Lastly, each leg has -its own sheath, more or less badly treated near the base. The large shred, which in -itself forms the best part of the wrapper, is thrown off by means of alternate contractions -and expansions of the abdomen. By this mechanical process it is slowly forced backwards, -where it ends by forming a little pellet that for some time remains fastened to the -insect by the tracheal gills. The Sphex then once more becomes motionless; and the -operation is over. However, the head, antennæ and legs are still more or less veiled. -It is evident that the legs in particular cannot be freed all in one piece, <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>because of the numerous excrescences or spines with which they are armed. These different -shreds of skin dry up on the insect and are removed afterwards by rubbing the legs. -It is not until the Sphex has acquired her full vigour that she finishes her moulting -by brushing, smoothing and combing her whole body with her tarsi. -</p> -<p>The way in which the wings come out of their sheaths is the most remarkable part of -the sloughing. In their incomplete stump stage they are folded lengthwise and are -very much compressed. It is easy to extract them from their cases a little while before -the normal date of their appearance; but then they remain permanently contracted and -do not fill out. On the other hand, when once the large strip of skin to which the -sheaths of the wings belong is pushed back by the movements of the abdomen, we see -the wings come slowly out of their cases and straightway, as they become free, assume -dimensions out of all proportion to the narrow prison whence they emerge. They are -therefore the seat of an abundant rush of vital fluids which swell them and spread -them out, and which, owing to the inflation which they provoke, must be the chief -cause of the wings’ emergence from their cases. When newly expanded, the wings are -heavy, <span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>full of juices and of a very pale straw-colour. If the rush of the fluids takes place -irregularly, we then see the end of the wing weighed down by a little yellow drop -contained between the two scales. -</p> -<p>After stripping herself of the abdominal sheath, which carries the wing-cases with -it, the Sphex relapses into immobility for about three days. During this time the -wings assume their normal hue, the tarsi become coloured, and the mouth-parts, at -first extended, adopt their proper position. After twenty-four days spent in the nymphal -stage, the insect has achieved the perfect state. It tears the cocoon that holds it -captive, opens itself a passage through the sand and comes out one fine morning into -the light of day, undazzled by that hitherto unknown radiance. Bathed in sunshine, -the Sphex brushes her antennæ and her wings, passes and repasses her legs over her -abdomen, washes her eyes with her front tarsi wetted with saliva, like a cat; and, -her toilet finished, flies away joyfully: she has two months to live. -</p> -<p>You pretty Sphex-wasps hatched before my eyes, brought up by my hand, ration by ration, -on a bed of sand in an old quill-box; you whose transformations I have followed step -by step, starting up from my sleep in alarm lest I should <span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span>have missed the moment when the nymph is bursting its swaddling-bands or the wing -leaving its case; you who have taught me so much and learned nothing yourselves, knowing -without teachers all that you have to know: O my pretty Sphex-wasps, fly away without -fear of my tubes, my boxes, my bottles, or any of my receptacles, through this warm -sunlight beloved of the Cicadæ;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1236src" href="#xd31e1236">7</a> go, but beware of the Praying Mantis,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1242src" href="#xd31e1242">8</a> who is plotting your ruin on the flowering heads of the thistles, and mind the Lizard, -who is lying in wait for you on the sunny slopes; go in peace, dig your burrows, stab -your Crickets scientifically and continue your kind, to procure one day for others -what you have given me: the few moments of happiness in my life! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1128"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1128src">1</a></span> ·117 to ·156 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1128src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1132"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1132src">2</a></span> A species of Green Grasshopper.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1132src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1154"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1154src">3</a></span> Nearly half an inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1154src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1162"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1162src">4</a></span> ·975 to 1·17 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1162src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1166"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1166src">5</a></span> ·195 to ·234 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1166src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1190"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1190src">6</a></span> 1·05 × ·35 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1190src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1236"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1236src">7</a></span> Cf. <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>: chaps. i. to iv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1236src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1242"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1242src">8</a></span> Cf. <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>: chaps. v. to vii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1242src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e334">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter vii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">ADVANCED THEORIES</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The species of the genus Sphex are fairly numerous, but are for the most part strangers -to my country. As far as I know, the French fauna numbers only three, all lovers of -the hot sun of the olive district, namely, the Yellow-winged Sphex (<i lang="la">Sphex flavipennis</i>), the White-edged Sphex (<i lang="la">S. albisecta</i>), and the Languedocian Sphex (<i lang="la">S. occitanica</i>). Now it is not without a lively interest that the observer notices in the case of -these three freebooters a choice of provisions which is in strict accordance with -the rigid laws of entomological classification. To feed their grubs, all three choose -solely Orthoptera.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1264src" href="#xd31e1264">1</a> The first hunts Crickets, the second Locusts, the third Ephippigers. -</p> -<p>The prey selected have such great outward differences one from the other that to associate -them and grasp their similarity calls for the practised eye of the entomologist or -the no <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>less experienced eye of the Sphex. Pray compare the Cricket with the Locust: the first -has a large, round, stumpy head, is short and thickset and black all over, with red -stripes on his hinder thighs; the second is greyish in colour, long and slim, with -a small, tapering head, leaps forward by suddenly unbending his long hind-legs and -continues this flight with wings furled like a fan. Next compare both of these with -the Ephippiger, who carries his musical instrument, two shrill cymbals shaped like -concave scales, on his back and who waddles along with his pendulous belly, ringed -pale-green and buttercup-yellow and armed with a long dirk. Place the three side by -side and you will agree with me that, to guide her in choosing between such dissimilar -species, while still keeping to the same entomological order, the Sphex must have -an eye so expert that no man—not your ordinary layman, but a man of science—need be -ashamed to own it. -</p> -<p>In the face of these singular predilections, which seem to have had their limits laid -down for them by some master of classification, by a Latreille, for instance, it becomes -interesting to investigate whether the Sphex-wasps that are not natives of our country -hunt game of the same order. Unfortunately, information on this point is scanty and, -in the case of most <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>of the species, is lacking altogether. The chief cause of this regrettable lacuna -is the superficial method generally adopted. People catch an insect, stick a long -pin through it, fix it in the cork-bottomed box, gum a label with a Latin name underneath -its feet, and let its history end there. It is not thus that I understand the duties -of an entomological biographer. It is no use telling me that this or that species -has so many joints to its antennæ, so many nervures to its wings, so many hairs on -a region of the belly or thorax; I do not really know the insect until I am acquainted -with its manner of life, its instincts and its habits. -</p> -<p>And see the immense and luminous advantage which a description of this kind, told -in two or three words, would possess over those long descriptive details, sometimes -so hard to grasp. Suppose that you wish to make the Languedocian Sphex known to me -and you begin by describing the number and distribution of the nervures of the wings; -you speak to me of cubital nervures and recurrent nervures. Next comes the insect’s -pen-portrait. Black here, rusty red there, smoky brown at the tips of the wings; black -velvet in this part, silvery down in that, a smooth surface in a third. It is all -very definite and minute: we must do this much justice to the precision and patience -<span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>of the narrator; but it is very long and also it is by no means always clear, so much -so that we may be excused if we are not quite able to follow it, even when we are -not altogether new to the business. But add to the tedious description merely this: -‘Hunts Ephippigers’; and these two words at once shed light: there is no possibility -of my now mistaking my Sphex, for she alone possesses the monopoly of that particular -prey. To give this illuminating note, what would be needed? The habit of really observing -and of not making entomology consist of so many series of impaled insects. -</p> -<p>But let us pass on and examine the little that is known about the hunting methods -of the foreign Sphex-wasps. I open Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1282src" href="#xd31e1282">2</a> <i>Natural History of Hymenoptera</i> and find that, on the other side of the Mediterranean, in our Algerian provinces, -the Yellow-winged Sphex and the White-edged Sphex retain the same habits that characterize -them here. They capture Orthoptera in the land of palm-trees even as they do in the -land of olive-trees. Though separated from the others by the vast width of the sea, -the hunting <span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span>compatriots of the Kabyles and the Berbers pursue the same game as their kindred in -Provence. I also see that a fourth species, the African Sphex (<i lang="la">S. afra</i>), is the scourge of the Locusts in the neighbourhood of Oran. Lastly, I remember -reading, I forget where, of a fifth species which also wages war on Locusts in the -steppes near the Caspian. Thus, on the borders of the Mediterranean, we have five -different species of Sphex, whose larvæ all live on a diet of Orthoptera. -</p> -<p>Now let us cross the equator and go right down to the southern hemisphere, to the -islands of Mauritius and Réunion: we shall here find not a Sphex, but a closely-allied -Wasp of the same tribe, the Compressed Chlorion, hunting the horrible Kakerlak, that -ravager of the foodstuffs in the ships and harbours of the colonies. These Kakerlaks -are none other than Cockroaches, whereof one species haunts our dwellings. Who does -not know the evil-smelling insect, which, thanks to its flat body, like that of a -huge Bug, slips at night through the gaps in furniture and the crannies of partitions -and invades any place containing provisions to be devoured? This is the Black-beetle -of our houses, a disgusting counterpart of the no less disgusting prey beloved of -the Chlorion. What is there about the Kakerlak <span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>to cause him to be selected as a prey by a near cousin of our Sphex-wasps? It is quite -simple: with his Bug shape, the Kakerlak also is an Orthopteron, just as much as the -Cricket, the Ephippiger or the Locust. From these six examples, the only ones known -to me and of such different origins, we might perhaps deduce that all the Sphex hunt -Orthoptera. At any rate, without adopting so general a conclusion, we see what the -food of their larvæ must be in most cases. -</p> -<p>There is a reason for this surprising choice. What is it? What are the grounds for -a diet which, within the strict limits of one entomological order, is composed here -of stinking Kakerlaks, there of somewhat dry, but highly-flavoured Locusts, elsewhere -again of plump Crickets or fat Ephippigers? I confess that I cannot tell, that I am -absolutely in the dark; and I leave the problem to others. At the same time, we may -observe that the Orthoptera are among insects what the Ruminants are among mammals. -Endowed with a mighty paunch and a placid temperament, they graze contentedly and -soon put on flesh. They are numerous, widely distributed and slow in movement, which -renders them easy to catch; moreover, they are of a large size, making fine heads -of game. Who can say if the Sphex-wasps, <span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span>powerful huntresses, requiring big prey, do not find in these Ruminants of the insect -world what we ourselves find in our domestic Ruminants, the Sheep and the Ox, peaceable -victims yielding plenty of flesh? It is just a possibility, but no more. -</p> -<p>I have something better than a possibility to offer in reply to another and no less -important question. Do the Orthopteron-eaters ever vary their diet? Should the favourite -type of game fall short, can they not accept a different one? Does the Languedocian -Sphex consider that there is nothing in the world worth having but fat Ephippigers? -Does the White-edged Sphex allow none but Locusts to figure on her table; and the -Yellow-winged Sphex none but Crickets? Or, according to time, place and circumstances, -does each make up for the lack of her favourite victuals by others more or less equivalent? -To ascertain such facts, if they exist, would be of the greatest importance, for they -would tell us if the inspirations of instinct are absolute and unchangeable, or if -they vary and within what limits. It is true that the cells of one and the same Cerceris -contain the most varied species of either the Buprestis or the Weevil group, which -shows that the huntress has a great latitude of choice; but this extension of the -hunting-fields cannot be <span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>presumed in the case of the Sphex-wasps, whom I have seen so faithful to an exclusive -victim, always the same for each of them, and who moreover find, among the Orthoptera, -groups that differ very widely in shape. Nevertheless, I have had the good fortune -to come upon one case, one only, of complete change in the larva’s nourishment; and -I record it the more willingly in the Sphegian archives inasmuch as such facts, scrupulously -observed, will one day form foundation-stones for any one who cares to build up the -psychology of instinct on a solid basis. -</p> -<p>Here are the facts. The scene is enacted on a towing-path along the Rhône. On one -side is the mighty stream, with its roaring waters; on the other is a thick hedge -of osiers, willows, and reeds; between the two runs a narrow walk, with a carpet of -fine sand. A Yellow-winged Sphex appears, hopping along, dragging her prey. What do -I see! The prey is not a Cricket, but a common Acridian, a Locust! And yet the Wasp -is really the Sphex with whom I am so familiar, the Yellow-winged Sphex, the keen -Cricket-huntress. I can hardly believe the evidence of my own eyes. -</p> -<p>The burrow is not far off: the insect enters it and stores away the booty. I sit down, -determined to wait for a new expedition, to wait <span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>hours if necessary, so that I may see if the extraordinary capture is repeated. My -sitting attitude makes me take up the whole width of the path. Two raw conscripts -heave in sight, their hair newly cut, wearing that inimitable automaton look which -the first days of barrack-life bestow. They are chatting together, talking no doubt -of home and the girl they left behind them; and each is innocently whittling a willow-switch -with his knife. I am seized with a sudden apprehension. Ah, it is no easy matter to -experiment on the public road, where, when the long-awaited event occurs at last, -the arrival of a wayfarer is likely to disturb or ruin opportunities that may never -return! I rise, anxiously, to make way for the conscripts; I stand back in the osier-bed -and leave the narrow passage free. To do more would have been unwise. To say, ‘Don’t -go this way, my good lads,’ would have made bad worse. They would have suspected some -trap hidden under the sand, giving rise to questions to which no reply that I could -have made would have sounded satisfactory. Besides, my request would have turned those -idlers into lookers-on, very embarrassing company in such studies. I therefore got -up without speaking and trusted to my lucky star. Alas and alack, my star betrayed -me: the heavy regulation boot came <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>straight down upon the ceiling of the Sphex! A shudder ran through me as though I -myself had received the impress of the hobnailed sole. -</p> -<p>When the conscripts had passed, I proceeded to save what I could of the ruined burrow’s -contents. The Sphex was there, crushed and mangled; and with her not only the Locust -whom I had seen carried down, but two others as well, making three Locusts in all -instead of the usual Crickets. What was the reason of this curious change? Were there -no Crickets in the neighbourhood of the burrow and was the distressed Wasp making -up for them with Locusts: a case of Hobson’s choice, in fact? I hesitate to believe -it, for there was nothing about the neighbourhood to warrant the supposition that -the favourite game was absent. Another, luckier than I, will unriddle this new and -unknown mystery. The fact remains that the Yellow-winged Sphex, either from imperious -necessity or for some reason that escapes me, sometimes replaces her chosen prey, -the Cricket, with another prey, the Locust, presenting no external resemblance to -the first, but itself also an Orthopteron. -</p> -<p>The observer on whose authority Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau says a word or two touching -the habits of this same Sphex witnessed a similar storing away of Locusts in Africa, -near <span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>Oran. He surprised a Yellow-winged Sphex dragging an Acridian along. Was it an accidental -case, like that which I witnessed on the banks of the Rhône? Was it an exception or -the rule? Can there be a lack of Crickets in the country around Oran and does the -Wasp fill their place with Acridians? The force of circumstances compels me to put -the question without finding a reply. -</p> -<p>This is the place to interpolate a certain passage from Lacordaire’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1328src" href="#xd31e1328">3</a> <i>Introduction to Entomology</i> against which I am eager to protest. Here it is: -</p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">‘Darwin,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1346src" href="#xd31e1346">4</a> who wrote a book on purpose to prove the identity of the intellectual principle <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>actuating men and animals, was walking one day in his garden when he saw on the path -a Sphex who had just possessed herself of a Fly almost as large as herself. He saw -her cut off the victim’s head and abdomen with her mandibles, keeping only the thorax, -to which the wings remained attached, after which she flew away; but a breath of wind, -striking the Fly’s wings, made the Sphex spin round and prevented her progress; hereupon -she alighted again on the path, cut off one of the Fly’s wings and then the other, -and, after thus destroying the cause of her difficulties, resumed her flight with -what remained of her prey. This fact carries with it manifest signs of reasoning power. -Instinct might have led this Sphex to cut off her victim’s wings before carrying it -to her nest, as do some species of the same genus; but here there was a sequence of -ideas and results from those ideas, which are quite inexplicable unless we allow the -intervention of reason.’</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>This little story, which so lightly grants reason to an insect, lacks I will not say -truth, <span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>but even mere likelihood, not in the act itself, which I accept without reserve, but -in the motives for the act. Darwin saw what he tells us; only, he was mistaken as -to the heroine of the drama, the drama itself and its significance. He was profoundly -mistaken; and I will prove it. -</p> -<p>First of all, the old English scientist was bound to know enough about the creatures -to which he gives these high dignities to call things by their right names. Let us -therefore take the word Sphex in its strict scientific meaning. Under this assumption, -by what strange aberration was this English Sphex, if any such there be, choosing -a Fly for her prey, when her kinswomen hunt such different game, Orthoptera? Even -admitting what I consider to be inadmissible, a Fly to form the quarry of a Sphex, -other difficulties come crowding up. It is now duly proved that the Burrowing Wasps -do not take dead bodies to their larvæ, but a victim merely numbed, paralysed. Then -what is the meaning of this prey of which the Sphex cuts off the head, the abdomen, -the wings? The stump carried away is no more than a fragment of a corpse, which would -infect the cell with its rottenness, without being of any use to the larva, whose -hatching is not due for some days yet. It is as clear as daylight: when making <span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>his observation, Darwin did not have before him a Sphex in the strict sense of the -word. Then what did he see? -</p> -<p>The term Fly, by which the captured prey is designated, is a very elastic word, which -can be applied to the immense order of Diptera and which therefore leaves us undecided -among thousands of species. The expression Sphex is most likely also employed in an -equally indefinite sense. At the end of the eighteenth century, when Darwin’s book -appeared, this expression was used to denote not only the Sphegidæ proper, but particularly -the Crabronidæ. Now, among the latter, some, when storing provisions for their larvæ, -hunt Diptera, Flies, the prey required by the unknown Hymenopteron of the English -naturalist. Then was Darwin’s Sphex a Crabro? No; for these Dipteron-hunters, like -the hunters of any other prey, want game that keeps fresh, motionless but half-alive, -for the fortnight or three weeks required for the hatching of the eggs and the complete -development of the larvæ. All these little ogres need meat killed that day and not -gone bad or even a little high. This is a rule to which I know of no exception. The -word Sphex cannot be accepted therefore, even with its old meaning. -</p> -<p>Instead of a precise fact, really worthy of <span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>science, we have a riddle to read. Let us continue to examine the riddle. Different -species of the Crabro family are so like the Social Wasps in size, in shape and in -their black-and-yellow livery as to deceive any eye unversed in the delicate distinctions -of entomology. To any one who has not made a special study of such subjects a Crabro -is a Common Wasp. May it not have happened that the English observer, looking at things -from a height and thinking unworthy of strict investigation the tiny fact which nevertheless -was to corroborate his transcendental theories and help to bestow reason upon an animal, -made a mistake in his turn, but one in the other direction and quite pardonable, by -taking a Wasp for a Crabro? I would almost dare swear so; and here are my reasons. -</p> -<p>Wasps, if not always, at least often bring up their family on animal food; but, instead -of accumulating a provision of game in each cell beforehand, they distribute the food -to the larvæ, one by one and several times a day; they feed them with their mouths, -as the father and mother feed young birds with their beaks. And the mouthful consists -of a fine mash of chewed insects, ground between the mandibles of the Wasp nurse. -The favourite insects for the preparation of this infants’ food are Diptera, <span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span>especially Common Flies; when fresh meat can be had, it is a windfall eagerly turned -to account. Who has not seen Wasps boldly enter our kitchens or pounce upon the meat -hanging in the butchers’ shops, to cut off a scrap that suits them and carry it away -forthwith, as <i lang="la">spolia opima</i> for the use of the grubs? When the half-closed shutters admit a streak of sunlight -to the floor of a room, where the Housefly is taking a luxurious nap or polishing -her wings, who has not seen the Wasp rush in, swoop down upon the Fly, crush her in -her mandibles and make off with the booty? Once again, a morsel reserved for the carnivorous -nurselings. -</p> -<p>The prey is dismembered now on the spot where captured, now on the way, now at the -nest. The wings, which possess no nutritive value, are cut off and rejected; the legs, -which are poor in juices, are also sometimes disdained. There remains a mutilated -corpse, head, thorax, abdomen, united or separated, which the Wasp chews and rechews -to reduce it to the pap beloved of the larvæ. I have tried to take the place of the -nurses in this method of rearing grubs on Fly-soup. The subject of my experiment was -a nest of <i lang="la">Polistes gallica</i>, the Wasp who fastens her little rosette of brown-paper cells to the roots of a shrub. -My kitchen-table <span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span>was a flat piece of marble on which I crushed the Fly-pap after cleaning the heads -of game, that is to say, after removing the parts that were too tough, the wings and -legs; lastly, the feeding-spoon was a fine straw, at the tip of which the dish was -served, from cell to cell, to each nurseling, which opened its mandibles just as the -young birds in the nest might do. I used to go to work in exactly the same way and -succeeded no better when bringing up broods of Sparrows, that joy of my childhood. -All went well as long as my patience did not fail me, tried as it was by the cares -of so finikin and absorbing an education. -</p> -<p>The obscurity of the enigma gives way to the full light of truth thanks to the following -observation, made with all the deliberateness which strict precision calls for. In -the early days of October, two large clumps of asters in blossom outside the door -of my study became the meeting-place of a host of insects, among which the Hive-bee -and an Eristalis-fly (<i lang="la">Eristalis tenax</i>) predominate. A gentle murmur rose from them, like that of which Virgil sings: -</p> -<div class="lgouter"> -<p class="line"><i lang="la">Sæpe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro.</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1398src" href="#xd31e1398">5</a> </p> -</div> -<p class="first">But, where the poet finds but an incitement <span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>to the delights of sleep, the naturalist beholds a subject for study: all this small -folk making holiday on the last flowers of the year will perhaps furnish him with -some fresh data. Behold me then on observation duty before the two clumps with their -thousands of lilac petals. -</p> -<p>The air is absolutely still, the sun blazing, the atmosphere heavy: signs of an approaching -storm, but conditions eminently favourable to the work of the Hymenoptera, who seem -to foresee to-morrow’s rain and redouble their activity to improve the opportunity. -And so the Bees plunder eagerly, while the Eristales fly clumsily from flower to flower. -At times, the peaceable multitude, filling its crop with nectar, is disturbed by the -sudden invasion of the Wasp, a ravening insect attracted hither by prey, not honey. -</p> -<p>Equally ardent in carnage, but very unequal in strength, two species divide the hunting -between them: the Common Wasp (<i lang="la">Vespa vulgaris</i>), who catches Eristales, and the Hornet (<i lang="la">Vespa crabro</i>), who preys on Hive-bees. The methods are the same in either case. Both bandits explore -the expanse of flowers with an impetuous flight, going backwards and forwards in a -thousand directions, and then make a sudden rush for the coveted prey, which is on -<span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>its guard and flies away, while the kidnapper’s impetus brings her up with a bump -against the deserted flower. Then the pursuit continues in the air, as though a Sparrow-hawk -were chasing a Lark. But the Bee and the Eristalis, by taking brisk turns, soon baffle -the attempts of the Wasp, who resumes her evolutions above the clustering blossoms. -At last, sooner or later, some quarry less quick at flight is captured. Forthwith, -the Common Wasp drops on to the lawn with her Eristalis; I also instantly lie on the -ground, quietly removing with my hands the dead leaves and bits of grass that might -interfere with my view; and I witness the following tragedy, if I have taken proper -precautions not to scare the huntress. -</p> -<p>First, there is a wild struggle in the tangle of the grass between the Wasp and the -Eristalis, who is bigger than her assailant. The Fly is unarmed, but powerful; a shrill -buzz of her wings tells of her desperate resistance. The Wasp carries a dagger; but -she does not understand the methodical use of it, is unacquainted with the vulnerable -points so well known to the marauders who need a prey that keeps fresh for long. What -her nurselings want is a mess of Flies that moment reduced to pulp; and, so long as -this is achieved, the Wasp cares little how the game is killed. The sting therefore -<span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>is used blindly, without any method. We see it pointed indifferently at the victim’s -back, sides, head, thorax, or belly, according to the chances of the scuffle. The -Hunting Wasp paralysing her victim acts like a surgeon who directs his scalpel with -a skilled hand; the Social Wasp killing her prey behaves like a common assassin who -stabs at random. For this reason the Eristalis’ resistance is prolonged; and her death -is the result of scissor-cuts rather than dagger-thrusts. When the victim is duly -garrotted, motionless between its ravisher’s legs, the head falls under a snap of -the mandibles; then the wings are cut off at their juncture with the shoulder; the -legs follow, severed one by one; lastly, the belly is flung aside, but emptied of -the entrails, which the Wasp appears to add to the one favoured portion. This choice -morsel is solely the thorax, which is richer in lean meat than the rest of the Eristalis’ -body. Without further delay the Wasp flies off with it, carrying it in her legs. On -reaching the nest, she will make it into potted Fly and serve it in mouthfuls to the -larvæ. -</p> -<p>The Hornet who has caught a Bee acts in much the same manner; but, in the case of -an assailant of her dimensions, the struggle cannot last long, notwithstanding the -victim’s sting. <span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span>The Hornet may prepare her dish on the very flower where the capture was effected, -or more often on some twig of an adjacent shrub. The Bee’s crop is first ripped open -and the honey that runs out of it lapped up. The prize is thus a twofold one: a drop -of honey for the huntress to feast upon and the Bee herself for the larvæ. Sometimes -the wings are removed and also the abdomen; but generally the Hornet is satisfied -with reducing the Bee to a shapeless mass, which she carries off without disdaining -anything. Those parts which have no nutritive value, especially the wings, will be -rejected on arriving at the nest. Lastly, she sometimes prepares the mash in the actual -hunting-field, that is to say, she crushes the Bee between her mandibles after removing -the wings, the legs, and at times the abdomen as well. -</p> -<p>Here then, in all its details, is the incident observed by Darwin. A Wasp (<i lang="la">Vespa vulgaris</i>) catches a big Fly (<i lang="la">Eristalis tenax</i>); she cuts off the victim’s head, wings, abdomen, and legs with her mandibles and -keeps only the thorax, which she carries off flying. But here there is not the least -breath of wind to explain the carving process; besides, the thing happens in a perfect -shelter, in the thick tangle of the grass. The butcher rejects such parts of her <span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span>prey as she considers valueless to her larvæ; and that is all about it. -</p> -<p>In short, the heroine of Darwin’s story is certainly a Wasp. Then what becomes of -that rational calculation on the part of the insect which, the better to contend with -the wind, cuts off its prey’s abdomen, head and wings and keeps only the thorax? It -becomes a most simple incident, leading to none of the mighty consequences which the -writer seeks to deduce from it: the very trivial incident of a Wasp who begins to -carve up her prey on the spot and keeps only the stump, the one part which she considers -fit for her larvæ. Far from seeing the least sign of reason in this, I look upon it -as a mere act of instinct, one so elementary that it is really not worth expatiating -upon. -</p> -<p>To disparage man and exalt animals in order to establish a point of contact, followed -by a point of union, has been and still is the general tendency of the ‘advanced theories’ -in fashion in our day. Ah, how often are these ‘sublime theories,’ that morbid craze -of the time, based upon ‘proofs’ which, if subjected to the light of experiment, would -lead to as ridiculous results as the learned Erasmus Darwin’s Sphex! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1264"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1264src">1</a></span> The order of insects including Earwigs, Cockroaches, Mantes, Crickets, Locusts and -Grasshoppers.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1264src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1282"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1282src">2</a></span> Amédée Comte Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau (1769–<i>circa</i> 1850), author of an <i lang="fr">Histoire naturelle des insectes</i> (1836–1846) and of the volume on insects in the <i lang="fr">Encyclopédie méthodique</i>. He was a younger brother of Louis Michel and Félix Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, -the members of the Convention.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1282src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1328"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1328src">3</a></span> Jean Théodore Lacordaire (1801–1870), professor at the university of <span class="corr" id="xd31e1330" title="Source: Liége">Liège</span> from 1835, author of <i lang="fr">Les Genera des coléoptères</i>, in twelve volumes, and of the <i lang="fr">Introduction à l’entomologie</i> quoted above (1837–1839).—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1328src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1346"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1346src">4</a></span> Erasmus Darwin (1731–1802), the poet and naturalist, grandfather of Charles Robert -Darwin. The book from which the above passage is quoted is <i>Zoonomia, or, The Laws of Organic Life</i> (1794–1796); but the reader will note that the author withdraws these comments in -a later essay (cf. <i>The Mason-bees</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. vii.), where -he explains that they are due to a misquotation or mistranslation made by Lacordaire, -who wrote ‘a Sphex’ where Darwin, as his grandson pointed out to Fabre, had written -‘a Wasp,’ meaning the Common or Social Wasp. It was open to me to suppress this part -of the chapter; but, in that case, there would have been so little left of the original -and so small an excuse for the title that I might as readily have suppressed the whole -chapter, a liberty which I did <span class="pageNum" id="pb118n">[<a href="#pb118n">118</a>]</span>not feel justified in taking. Besides, the footnote to the aforementioned chapter -of <i>The Mason-bees</i>, which precedes the present volume in the English edition, makes sufficient amends -for any injury done to the elder Darwin’s reputation here.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1346src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1398"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1398src">5</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">‘The busy bees, with a soft murmuring strain, -</p> -<p class="line">Invite to gentle sleep the labouring swain.’—</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e123"><i>Pastorals</i>, i., Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1398src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e342">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter viii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE LANGUEDOCIAN SPHEX</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">When the chemist has fully prepared his plan of research, he mixes his reagent at -the most convenient moment and lights a flame under his retort. He is the master of -time, place and circumstances. He chooses his hour, shuts himself up in his laboratory, -where nothing can come to disturb the business in hand; he produces at will this or -that condition which reflection suggests to him: he is in quest of the secrets of -inorganic matter, whose chemical activities science can awaken whenever it thinks -fit. -</p> -<p>The secrets of living matter—not those of anatomical structure, but really those of -life in action, especially of instinct—present much more difficult and delicate conditions -to the observer. Far from being able to choose his own time, he is the slave of the -season, of the day, of the hour, of the very moment. When the opportunity offers, -he must seize it as it comes, without hesitation, for it may be long <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>before it presents itself again. And, as it usually arrives at the moment when he -is least expecting it, nothing is in readiness for making the most of it. He must -then and there improvise his little stock of experimenting material, contrive his -plans, evolve his tactics, devise his tricks; and he can think himself lucky if inspiration -comes fast enough to allow him to profit by the chance offered. This chance, moreover, -hardly ever comes except to those who look for it. You must watch for it patiently -for days and days, now on sandy slopes exposed to the full glare of the sun, now on -some path walled in by high banks, where the heat is like that of an oven, or again -on some sandstone ledge which is none too steady. If it is in your power to set up -your observatory under a meagre olive-tree that pretends to protect you from the rays -of a pitiless sun, you may bless the fate that treats you as a sybarite: your lot -is an Eden. Above all, keep your eyes open. The spot is a good one; and—who knows?—the -opportunity may come at any moment. -</p> -<p>It came—late, it is true; but still it came. Ah, if you could now observe at your -ease, in the quiet of your study, with nothing to distract your mind from your subject, -far from the profane wayfarer who, seeing you so busily <span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>occupied at a spot where he sees nothing, will stop, overwhelm you with queries, take -you for some water-diviner, or—a graver suspicion this—regard you as some questionable -character searching for buried treasure and discovering by means of incantations where -the old pots full of coin lie hidden! Should you still wear a Christian aspect in -his eyes, he will approach you, look to see what you are looking at, and smile in -a manner that leaves no doubt as to his poor opinion of people who spend their time -in watching Flies. You will be lucky indeed if the troublesome visitor, with his tongue -in his cheek, walks off at last without disturbing things and without repeating in -his innocence the disaster brought about by my two conscripts’ boots. -</p> -<p>Should your inexplicable doings not puzzle the passer-by, they will be sure to puzzle -the village keeper, that uncompromising representative of the law in the ploughed -acres. He has long had his eye on you. He has so often seen you wandering about, like -a lost soul, for no appreciable reason; he has so often caught you rooting in the -ground, or, with infinite precautions, knocking down some strip of wall in a sunken -road, that in the end he has come to look upon you with dark suspicion. You are nothing -to him but a gipsy, a tramp, <span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>a poultry-thief, a shady person or, at the best, a madman. Should you be carrying -your botanizing-case, it will represent to him the poacher’s ferret-cage; and you -would never get it out of his head that, regardless of the game-laws and the rights -of landlords, you are clearing all the neighbouring warrens of their rabbits. Take -care. However thirsty you may be, do not lay a finger on the nearest bunch of grapes: -the man with the municipal badge will be there, delighted to have a case at last and -so to receive an explanation of your highly perplexing behaviour. -</p> -<p>I have never, I can safely say, committed any such misdemeanour; and yet, one day, -lying on the sand, absorbed in the details of a Bembex’ household, I suddenly heard -beside me: -</p> -<p>‘In the name of the law, I arrest you! You come along with me!’ -</p> -<p>It was the keeper of Les Angles, who, after vainly waiting for an opportunity to catch -me at fault and being daily more anxious for an answer to the riddle that was worrying -him, at last resolved upon the brutal expedient of a summons. I had to explain things. -The poor man seemed anything but convinced: -</p> -<p>‘Pooh!’ he said. ‘Pooh! You will never make me believe that you come here and roast -in the sun just to watch Flies. I shall keep an <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>eye on you, mark you! And, the first time I …! However, that’ll do for the present.’ -</p> -<p>And he went off. I have always believed that my red ribbon had a good deal to do with -his departure. And I also put down to that red ribbon certain other little services -by which I benefited during my entomological and botanical excursions. It seemed to -me—or was I dreaming?—it seemed to me that, on my botanizing expeditions up Mont Ventoux, -the guide was more tractable and the donkey less obstinate. -</p> -<p>The aforesaid bit of scarlet ribbon did not always spare me the tribulations which -the entomologist must expect when experimenting on the public way. Here is a characteristic -example. Ever since daybreak I have been ambushed, sitting on a stone, at the bottom -of a ravine. The subject of my matutinal visit is the Languedocian Sphex. Three women, -vine-pickers, pass in a group, on the way to their work. They give a glance at the -man seated, apparently absorbed in reflection. At sunset, the same pickers pass again, -carrying their full baskets on their heads. The man is still there, sitting on the -same stone, with his eyes fixed on the same place. My motionless attitude, my long -persistency in remaining at that deserted spot, must have impressed them <span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>deeply. As they passed by me, I saw one of them tap her forehead and heard her whisper -to the others: -</p> -<p>‘<i lang="fr">Un paouré inoucènt, pécaïre!</i>’ -</p> -<p>And all three made the sign of the Cross. -</p> -<p>An innocent, she had said, <i lang="fr">un inoucènt</i>, an idiot, a poor creature, quite harmless, but half-witted; and they had all made -the sign of the Cross, an idiot being to them one with God’s seal stamped upon him. -</p> -<p>‘How now!’ thought I. ‘What a cruel mockery of fate! You, who are so laboriously seeking -to discover what is instinct in the animal and what is reason, you yourself do not -even possess your reason in these good women’s eyes! What a humiliating reflection!’ -</p> -<p>No matter: <i lang="fr">pécaïre</i>, that expression of supreme compassion, in the Provençal dialect, <i lang="fr">pécaïre</i>, coming from the bottom of the heart, soon made me forget <i lang="fr">inoucènt</i>. -</p> -<p>It is in this ravine with its three grape-gathering women that I would meet the reader, -if he be not discouraged by the petty annoyances of which I have given him a foretaste. -The Languedocian Sphex frequents these points, not in tribes congregating at the same -spot when nest-building work begins, but as solitary individuals, sparsely distributed, -settling wherever the chances of their vagabondage lead <span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>them. Even as her kinswoman, the Yellow-winged Sphex, seeks the society of her kind -and the animation of a yard full of workers, the Languedocian Sphex prefers isolation, -quiet and solitude. Graver of gait, more formal in her manners, of a larger size and -also more sombrely clad, she always lives apart, not caring what others do, disdaining -company, a genuine misanthrope among the Sphegidæ. The one is sociable, the other -is not: a profound difference which in itself is enough to characterize them. -</p> -<p>This amounts to saying that, with the Languedocian Sphex, the difficulties of observation -increase. No long-meditated experiment is possible in her case; nor, when the first -attempts have failed, can one hope to try them again, on the same occasion, with a -second or a third subject and so on. If you prepare the materials for your observation -in advance, if, for instance, you have in reserve a piece of game which you propose -to substitute for that of the Sphex, it is to be feared, nay, it is almost certain -that the huntress will not appear; and, when she does come at last, your materials -are no longer fit for use and everything has to be improvised in a hurry, that very -moment, under conditions that are not always satisfactory. -</p> -<p>Let us take heart. The site is a first-rate one. Many a time already I have surprised -<span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>the Sphex here, sunning herself on a vine-leaf. The insect, spread out flat, is basking -voluptuously in the heat and light. From time to time it has a sort of frenzied outburst -of pleasure: it quivers with content; it rapidly taps its feet on its couch, producing -a tattoo not unlike that of rain falling heavily on the leaf. The joyous thrum can -be heard several feet away. Then immobility begins again, soon followed by a fresh -nervous commotion and by the whirling of the tarsi, a symbol of supreme felicity. -I have known some of these passionate sun-lovers suddenly to leave the work-yard, -when the larva’s cave has been half-dug, and go to the nearest vine to take a bath -of heat and light, after which they would come back to the burrow, as though reluctantly, -just to give a perfunctory sweep and soon end by knocking off work, unable to resist -the exquisite temptation of luxuriating on the vine-leaves. -</p> -<p>It may be that the voluptuous couch is also an observatory, whence the Wasp surveys -the surrounding country in order to discover and select her prey. Her exclusive game -is the Ephippiger of the Vine, scattered here and there on the branches or on any -brambles hard by. The joint is a substantial one, especially as the Sphex favours -solely the females, whose bellies are swollen with a mighty cluster of eggs. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span></p> -<p>Let us take no notice of the repeated trips, the fruitless searches, the tedium of -frequent long waiting, but rather present the Sphex suddenly to the reader as she -herself appears to the observer. Here she is, at the bottom of a sunken road with -high, sandy banks. She comes on foot, but gets help from her wings in dragging her -heavy prize. The Ephippiger’s antennæ, long and slender as threads, are the harnessing-ropes. -Holding her head high, she grasps one of them in her mandibles. The antenna gripped -passes between her legs; and the game follows, turned over on its back. Should the -soil be too uneven and so offer resistance to this method of carting, the Wasp clasps -her unwieldy burden and carries it with very short flights, interspersed, as often -as possible, with journeys on foot. We never see her undertake a sustained flight, -for long distances, holding the game in her legs, as is the practice of those expert -aviators, the Bembeces and Cerceres, for instance, who bear through the air for more -than half a mile their respective Flies or Weevils, a very light booty compared with -the huge Ephippiger. The overpowering weight of her capture compels the Languedocian -Sphex to make the whole, or nearly the whole, journey on foot, her method of transport -being consequently slow and laborious. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span></p> -<p>The same reason, the bulk and weight of the prey, have entirely reversed the usual -order which the Burrowing Wasps follow in their operations. This order we know: it -consists in first digging a burrow and then stocking it with provisions. As the victim -is not out of proportion to the strength of the spoiler, it is quite simple to carry -it flying, which means that the Wasp can choose any site that she likes for her dwelling. -She does not mind how far afield she goes for her prey: once she has captured her -quarry, she comes flying home at a speed which makes questions of distance quite immaterial. -Hence she prefers as the site for her burrow the place where she herself was born, -the place where her forbears lived; she here inherits deep galleries, the accumulated -work of earlier generations; and, by repairing them a little, she makes them serve -as approaches to new chambers, which are in this way better protected than they would -be if they depended upon the labours of a single Wasp, who had to start boring from -the surface each year. This happens, for instance, in the case of the Great Cerceris -and the Bee-eating Philanthus. And, should the ancestral abode not be strong enough -to withstand the rough weather from one year to the next and to be handed down to -the offspring, should the burrower have each time <span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>to start her tunnelling afresh, at least the Wasp finds greater safety in places consecrated -by the experience of her forerunners. Consequently she goes there to dig her galleries, -each of which serves as a corridor to a group of cells, thus effecting an economy -in the aggregate labour expended upon the whole business of the laying. -</p> -<p>In this way are formed not real societies, for there are no concerted efforts towards -a common object, but at least assemblies where the sight of her kinswomen and her -neighbours doubtless puts heart into the labour of the individual. We can observe, -in fact, between these little tribes, springing from the same stock, and the burrowers -who do their work alone, a difference in activity which reminds us of the emulation -prevailing in a crowded yard and the indifference of labourers who have to work in -solitude. Action is contagious in animals as in men; it is fired by its own example. -</p> -<p>To sum up: when of a moderate weight for its captor, the prey can be conveyed flying, -to a great distance. The Wasp can then choose any site that she pleases for her burrow. -She adopts by preference the spot where she was born and uses each passage as a common -corridor giving access to several cells. The result of this meeting at a common birthplace -is the formation of groups, like turning to like, which <span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>is a source of friendly rivalry. This first step towards social life comes from facilities -for travelling. Do not things happen in the same way with man, if I may be permitted -the comparison? When he has nothing but trackless paths, man builds a solitary hut; -when supplied with good roads, he and his fellows collect in populous cities; when -served by railways which, so to speak, annihilate distance, they assemble in those -immense human hives called London or Paris. -</p> -<p>The situation of the Languedocian Sphex is just the reverse. Her prey is a heavy Ephippiger, -a single dish representing by itself the sum total of provisions which the other freebooters -amass on numerous journeys, insect by insect. What the Cerceres and the other plunderers -strong on the wing accomplish by dividing the labour she does in a single journey. -The weight of the prey makes any distant flight impossible; it has to be brought home -slowly and laboriously, for it is a troublesome business to cart things along the -ground. This alone makes the site of the burrow dependent on the accidents of the -chase: the prey comes first and the dwelling next. So there is no assembling at a -common meeting-place, no association of kindred spirits, no tribes stimulating one -another in their work <span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span>by mutual example, but isolation in the particular spot where the chances of the day -have taken the Sphex, solitary labour, carried on without animation though with unfailing -diligence. First of all, the prey is sought for, attacked, reduced to helplessness. -Not until after that does the digger trouble about the burrow. A favourable place -is chosen, as near as possible to the spot where the victim lies, so as to cut short -the tedious work of transport; and the chamber of the future larva is rapidly hollowed -out and at once receives the egg and the victuals. There you have an example of the -inverted method of the Languedocian Sphex, a method, as all my observations go to -prove, diametrically opposite to that of the other Hymenoptera. I will give some of -the more striking of these observations. -</p> -<p>When caught digging, the Languedocian Sphex is always alone, sometimes at the bottom -of a dusty recess left by a stone that has dropped out of an old wall, sometimes ensconced -in the shelter formed by a flat, projecting bit of sandstone, a shelter much sought -after by the fierce Eyed Lizard to serve as an entrance-hall to his lair. The sun -beats full upon it; it is an oven. The soil, consisting of old dust that has fallen -little by little from the roof, is very easy to dig. The cell is soon scooped out -with the mandibles, <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>those pincers which are also used for digging, and the tarsi, which serve as rubbish-rakes. -Then the miner flies off, but with a slow flight and no sudden display of wing-power, -a manifest sign that the insect is not contemplating a distant expedition. We can -easily follow it with our eyes and perceive the spot where it alights, usually ten -or twelve yards away. At other times it decides to walk. It goes off and makes hurriedly -for a spot where we will have the indiscretion to follow it, for our presence does -not trouble it at all. On reaching its destination, either on foot or on the wing, -it looks round for some time, as we gather from its undecided attitude and its journeys -hither and thither. It looks round; at last it finds or rather retrieves something. -The object recovered is an Ephippiger, half-paralysed, but still moving her tarsi, -antennæ and ovipositor. She is a victim which the Sphex certainly stabbed not long -ago with a few stings. After the operation the Wasp left her prey, an embarrassing -burden amid the suspense of house-hunting; she abandoned it perhaps on the very spot -where she captured it, contenting herself with making it more or less conspicuous -by placing it on some grass-tuft, in order to find it more easily later; and, trusting -to her good memory to return presently to the spot where <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>the booty lies, she set out to explore the neighbourhood with the object of finding -a suitable site and there digging a burrow. Once the home was ready, she came back -to her prize, which she found again without much hesitation, and she now prepares -to lug it home. She bestrides the victim, seizes one or both of the antennæ, and off -she goes, tugging and dragging with all the strength of her loins and jaws. -</p> -<p>Sometimes she has only to make one journey; at other times and more often, the carter -suddenly plumps down her load and quickly runs home. Perhaps it occurs to her that -the entrance-door is not wide enough to admit so substantial a morsel; perhaps she -remembers some lack of finish that might hamper the storing. And, in point of fact, -the worker does touch up her work: she enlarges the doorway, smooths the threshold, -strengthens the ceiling. It is all done with a few strokes of the tarsi. Then she -returns to the Ephippiger, lying yonder, on her back, a few steps away. The hauling -begins again. On the road, the Sphex seems struck with a new idea, which flashes through -her quick brain. She has inspected the door, but has not looked inside. Who knows -if all is well in there? She hastens to see, dropping the Ephippiger before she goes. -The interior is inspected; and apparently a few <span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>pats of the trowel are administered with the tarsi, giving a last polish to the walls. -Without lingering too long over these delicate after-touches, the Wasp goes back to -her booty and harnesses herself to its antennæ. Forward! Will the journey be completed -this time? I would not answer for it. I have known a Sphex, more suspicious than the -others, perhaps, or more neglectful of the minor architectural details, to repair -her omissions, to dispel her doubts, by abandoning her prize on the way five or six -times running, in order to hurry to the burrow, which each time was touched up a little -or merely inspected within. It is true that others make straight for their destination, -without even stopping to rest. I must also add that, when the Wasp goes home to improve -the dwelling, she does not fail to give a glance from a distance every now and then -at the Ephippiger over there, to make sure that nothing has happened to her. This -solicitude recalls that of the Sacred Beetle when he leaves the hall which he is excavating -in order to come and feel his beloved pellet and bring it a little nearer to him. -</p> -<p>The inference to be drawn from the details which I have related is manifest. The fact -that every Languedocian Sphex surprised in her mining operations, even though it be -at <span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span>the very beginning of the digging, at the first stroke of the tarsus in the dust, -afterwards, when the home is prepared, makes a short excursion, now on foot, anon -flying, and invariably finds herself in possession of a victim already stabbed, already -paralysed, compels us to conclude, in all certainty, that this Wasp does her work -as a huntress first and as a burrower after, so that the place of the capture decides -the place of the home. -</p> -<p>This reversal of procedure, which causes the food to be prepared before the larder, -whereas hitherto we have seen the larder come before the food, I attribute to the -weight of the Sphex’ prey, a prey which it is not possible to carry far through the -air. It is not that the Languedocian Sphex is ill-built for flight: on the contrary, -she can soar magnificently; but the prey which she hunts would weigh her down if she -had no other support than her wings. She needs the support of the ground for her hauling-work, -in which she displays wonderful strength. When laden with her prey, she always goes -afoot, or takes but very short flights, even under conditions when flight would save -her time and trouble. I will quote an instance taken from my latest observations on -this curious Wasp. -</p> -<p>A Sphex appears unexpectedly, coming I <span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span>know not whence. She is on foot, dragging her Ephippiger, a capture which apparently -she has made that moment in the neighbourhood. In the circumstances it behoves her -to dig herself a burrow. The site is as bad as bad can be. It is a well-beaten path, -hard as stone. The Sphex, who has no time to make laborious excavations, because the -already captured prize must be stored as quickly as possible, the Sphex wants soft -ground, wherein the larva’s chamber can be contrived in one short spell of work. I -have described her favourite soil, namely, the dust of years which has accumulated -at the bottom of some hole in a wall or of some little shelter under the rocks. Well, -the Sphex whom I am now observing stops at the foot of a house with a newly-whitewashed -front some twenty to twenty-five feet high. Her instinct tells her that up there, -under the red tiles of the roof, she will find nooks rich in old dust. She leaves -her prey at the foot of the house and flies up to the roof. For some time I see her -looking here, there, and everywhere. After finding a proper site, she begins to work -under the curve of a pantile. In ten minutes, or fifteen at most, the home is ready. -The insect now flies down again. The Ephippiger is promptly found. She has to be taken -up. Will this be done on the wing, as <span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span>circumstances seem to demand? Not at all. The Sphex adopts the toilsome method of -scaling a perpendicular wall, with a surface smoothed by the mason’s trowel and measuring -twenty to twenty-five feet in height. Seeing her take this road, dragging the game -between her legs, I at first think the feat impossible; but I am soon reassured as -to the outcome of the bold attempt. Getting a foothold on the little roughnesses in -the mortar, the plucky insect, despite the hindrance of her heavy load, walks up this -vertical plane with the same assured gait and the same speed as on level ground. The -top is reached without the least accident; and the prey is laid temporarily on the -edge of the roof, upon the rounded back of a tile. While the digger gives a finishing -touch to the burrow, the badly-balanced prey slips and drops to the foot of the wall. -The thing must be done all over again and once more by laboriously climbing the height. -The same mistake is repeated. Again the prey is incautiously left on the curved tile, -again it slips and again it falls to the ground. With a composure which accidents -such as these cannot disturb, the Sphex for the third time hoists up the Ephippiger -by scaling the wall and, better advised, drags her forthwith right into the home. -</p> -<p>As even under these conditions no attempt <span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span>has been made to carry the prey on the wing, it is clear that the Wasp is incapable -of long flight with so heavy a load. To this incapacity we owe the few characteristics -that form the subject of this chapter. A quarry that is not too big to permit the -effort of flying makes of the Yellow-winged Sphex a semisocial species, that is to -say, one seeking the company of her fellows; a quarry too heavy to carry through the -air makes of the Languedocian Sphex a species vowed to solitary labour, a sort of -savage disdainful of the pleasures that come from the proximity of one’s kind. The -lighter or heavier weight of the game selected here determines the fundamental character -of the huntress. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e350">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter ix</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE WISDOM OF INSTINCT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">To paralyse her prey, the Languedocian Sphex, I have no doubt, pursues the method -of the Cricket-huntress and drives her lancet repeatedly into the Ephippiger’s breast -in order to strike the ganglia of the thorax. The process of wounding the nerve-centres -must be familiar to her; and I am convinced beforehand of her consummate skill in -that scientific operation. This is an art thoroughly known to all the Hunting Wasps, -who carry a poisoned dart that has not been given them in vain. At the same time, -I must confess that I have never yet succeeded in witnessing the deadly performance. -This omission is due to the solitary life led by the Languedocian Sphex. -</p> -<p>When a number of burrows are dug on a common site and then provisioned, one has but -to wait on the spot to see now one huntress and now another arrive with the game which -they have caught. It is easy in these circumstances to try upon the new arrivals the -substitution of <span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span>a live prey for the doomed victim and to repeat the experiment as often as we wish. -Besides, the certainty that we shall not lack subjects of observation, as and when -wanted, enables us to arrange everything in advance. With the Languedocian Sphex these -conditions of success do not exist. To set out expressly to look for her, with one’s -material prepared, is almost useless, as the solitary insect is scattered one by one -over vast expanses of ground. Moreover, if you do come upon her, it will most often -be in an idle hour and you will get nothing out of her. As I said before, it is nearly -always unexpectedly, when your thoughts are elsewhere engaged, that the Sphex appears, -dragging her Ephippiger after her. -</p> -<p>This is the moment, the only propitious moment, to attempt a substitution of prey -and invite the huntress to let you witness her lancet-thrusts. Quick, let us procure -an alternative morsel, a live Ephippiger! Hurry, time presses: in a few minutes the -burrow will have received the victuals and the glorious occasion will be lost! Must -I speak of my mortification at these moments of good fortune, the mocking bait held -out by chance? Here, before my eyes, is matter for interesting observations; and I -cannot profit by it! I cannot surprise the Sphex’ secret for the lack of something -<span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>to offer her in the place of her prize! Try it for yourself, try setting out in quest -of an alternative piece with only a few minutes at your disposal, when it took me -three days of wild running about before I found Weevils for my Cerceres! And yet I -made the desperate experiment twice over. Ah, if the keeper had caught me this time, -tearing like mad through the vineyards, what a good opportunity it would have been -for crediting me with robbery and having me up before the magistrate! Vine-branches -and clusters of grapes: not a thing did I respect in my mad rush, hampered by the -trailing shoots. I must have an Ephippiger at all costs, I must have him that moment. -And once I did get my Ephippiger during one of these frenzied expeditions. I was radiant -with joy, never suspecting the bitter disappointment in store for me. -</p> -<p>If only I arrive in time, if only the Sphex be still engaged in transport work! Thank -heaven, everything is in my favour! The Wasp is still some distance away from her -burrow and still dragging her prize along. With my forceps I pull gently at it from -behind. The huntress resists, stubbornly clutches the antennæ of her victim and refuses -to let go. I pull harder, even drawing the carter back as well; it makes no difference: -the Sphex does <span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>not loose her hold. I have with me a pair of sharp scissors, belonging to my little -entomological case. I use them and promptly cut the harness-ropes, the Ephippiger’s -long antennæ. The Sphex continues to move ahead, but soon stops, astonished at the -sudden decrease in the weight of the burden which she is trailing, for this burden -is now reduced merely to the two antennæ, snipped off by my mischievous wiles. The -real load, the heavy, pot-bellied insect, remains behind and is instantly replaced -by my live specimen. The Wasp turns round, lets go the ropes that now draw nothing -after them, and retraces her steps. She comes face to face with the prey substituted -for her own. She examines it, walks round it gingerly, then stops, moistens her foot -with saliva, and begins to wash her eyes. In this attitude of meditation, can some -such thought as the following pass through her mind: -</p> -<p>‘Come now! Am I awake or am I asleep? Do I know what I am about or do I not? That -thing’s not mine. Who or what is trying to humbug me?’ -</p> -<p>At any rate, the Sphex shows no great hurry to attack my prey with her mandibles. -She keeps away from it and shows not the smallest wish to seize it. To excite her, -I offer the insect to her in my fingers, I almost thrust the <span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span>antennæ under her teeth. I know that she does not suffer from shyness; I know that -she will come and take from your fingers, without hesitation, the prey which you have -snatched from her and afterwards present to her. But what is this? Scorning my offers, -the Sphex retreats instead of snapping up what I place within her reach. I put down -the Ephippiger, who, obeying a thoughtless impulse, unconscious of danger, goes straight -to his assassin. Now we shall see! Alas, no: the Sphex continues to recoil, like a -regular coward, and ends by flying away. I never saw her again. Thus ended, to my -confusion, an experiment that had filled me with such enthusiasm. -</p> -<p>Later and by degrees, as I inspected an increasing number of burrows, I came to understand -my failure and the obstinate refusal of the Sphex. I always found the provisions to -consist, without a single exception, of a female Ephippiger, harbouring in her belly -a copious and succulent cluster of eggs. This appears to be the favourite food of -the grubs. Well, in my hurried rush through the vines, I had laid my hands on an Ephippiger -of the other sex. I was offering the Sphex a male. More far-seeing than I in this -important question of provender, the Wasp would have nothing to say to my game: -<span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span></p> -<p>‘A male, indeed! Is that a dinner for my larvæ? What do you take them for?’ -</p> -<p>What nice discrimination they have, these dainty epicures, who are able to differentiate -between the tender flesh of the female and the comparatively dry flesh of the males! -What an unerring glance, which can distinguish at once between the two sexes, so much -alike in shape and colour! The female carries a sword at the tip of her abdomen, the -ovipositor wherewith the eggs are buried in the ground; and that is about the only -external difference between her and the male. This distinguishing feature never escapes -the perspicacious Sphex; and that is why, in my experiment, the Wasp rubbed her eyes, -hugely puzzled at beholding swordless a prey which she well knew carried a sword when -she caught it. What must not have passed through her little Sphex brain at the sight -of this transformation? -</p> -<p>Let us now watch the Wasp when, having prepared the burrow, she goes back for her -victim, which, after its capture and the operation that paralysed it, she has left -at no great distance. The Ephippiger is in a condition similar to that of the Cricket -sacrificed by the Yellow-winged Sphex, a condition proving for certain that stings -have been driven into her thoracic ganglia. Nevertheless, a good many <span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span>movements still continue; but they are disconnected, though endowed with a certain -vigour. Incapable of standing on its legs, the insect lies on its side or on its back. -It flutters its long antennæ and also its palpi; it opens and closes its mandibles -and bites as hard as in the normal state. The abdomen heaves rapidly and deeply. The -ovipositor is brought back sharply under the belly, against which it almost lies flat. -The legs stir, but languidly and irregularly; the middle legs seem more torpid than -the others. If pricked with a needle, the whole body shudders convulsively; efforts -are made to get up and walk, but without success. In short, the insect would be full -of life, but for its inability to move about or even to stand upon its legs. We have -here therefore a wholly local paralysis, a paralysis of the legs, or rather a partial -abolition and ataxy of their movements. Can this very incomplete inertia be caused -by some special arrangement of the victim’s nervous system, or does it come from this, -that the Wasp perhaps administers only a single prick, instead of stinging each ganglion -of the thorax, as the Cricket-huntress does? I cannot tell. -</p> -<p>Still, for all its shivering, its convulsions, its disconnected movements, the victim -is none the less incapable of hurting the larva that is <span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>meant to devour it. I have taken from the burrow of the Sphex Ephippigers struggling -just as lustily as when they were first half-paralysed; and nevertheless the feeble -grub, hatched but a few hours since, was digging its teeth into the gigantic victim -in all security; the dwarf was biting into the colossus without danger to itself. -This striking result is due to the spot selected by the mother for laying her egg. -I have already said how the Yellow-winged Sphex glues her egg to the Cricket’s breast, -a little to one side, between the first and second pair of legs. Exactly the same -place is chosen by the White-edged Sphex; and a similar place, a little farther back, -towards the root of one of the large hind-thighs, is adopted by the Languedocian Sphex, -all three thus giving proof, by this uniformity, of wonderful discernment in picking -out the spot where the egg is bound to be safe. -</p> -<p>Consider the Ephippiger pent in the burrow. She lies stretched upon her back, absolutely -incapable of turning. In vain she struggles, in vain she writhes: the disordered movements -of her legs are lost in space, the room being too wide to afford them the support -of its walls. The grub cares nothing for the victim’s convulsions: it is at a spot -where naught can reach it, not tarsi, nor mandibles, nor ovipositor, <span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>nor antennæ; a spot absolutely stationary, devoid of so much as a surface tremor. -It is in perfect safety, on the sole condition that the Ephippiger cannot shift her -position, turn over, get upon her feet; and this one condition is admirably fulfilled. -</p> -<p>But, with several heads of game, all in the same stage of paralysis, the larva’s danger -would be great. Though it would have nothing to fear from the insect first attacked, -because of its position out of the reach of its victim, it would have every occasion -to dread the proximity of the others, which, stretching their legs at random, might -strike it and rip it open with their spurs. This is perhaps the reason why the Yellow-winged -Sphex, who heaps up three or four Crickets in the same cell, practically annihilates -all movement in its victims, whereas the Languedocian Sphex, victualling each burrow -with a single piece of game, leaves her Ephippigers the best part of their power of -motion and contents herself with making it impossible for them to change their position -or stand upon their legs. She may thus, though I cannot say so positively, economize -her dagger-thrusts. -</p> -<p>While the only half-paralysed Ephippiger cannot imperil the larva, fixed on a part -of the body where resistance is impossible, the case is <span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>different with the Sphex, who has to cart her prize home. First, having still, to -a great extent, preserved the use of its tarsi, the victim clutches with these at -any blade of grass encountered on the road along which it is being dragged; and this -produces an obstacle to the hauling process which is difficult to overcome. The Sphex, -already heavily burdened by the weight of her load, is liable to exhaust herself with -her efforts to make the other insect relax its desperate grip in grassy places. But -this is the least serious drawback. The Ephippiger preserves the complete use of her -mandibles, which snap and bite with their customary vigour. Now what these terrible -nippers have in front of them is just the slender body of the enemy, at a time when -she is in her hauling attitude. The antennæ, in fact, are grasped not far from their -roots, so that the mouth of the victim dragged along on its back faces either the -thorax or the abdomen of the Sphex, who, standing high on her long legs, takes good -care, I am convinced, not to be caught in the mandibles yawning underneath her. At -all events, a moment of forgetfulness, a slip, the merest trifle can bring her within -the reach of two powerful nippers, which would not neglect the opportunity of taking -a pitiless vengeance. In the more difficult cases at any rate, if not <span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>always, the action of those formidable pincers must be done away with; and the fish-hooks -of the legs must be rendered incapable of increasing their resistance to the process -of transport. -</p> -<p>How will the Sphex go to work to obtain this result? Here man, even the man of science, -would hesitate, would waste his time in barren efforts and would perhaps abandon all -hope of success. He can come and take one lesson from the Sphex. She, without ever -being taught it, without ever seeing it practised by others, understands her surgery -through and through. She knows the most delicate mysteries of the physiology of the -nerves, or rather she behaves as if she did. She knows that under her victim’s skull -there is a circlet of nervous nuclei, something similar to the brain of the higher -animals. She knows that this main centre of innervation controls the action of the -mouth-parts and moreover is the seat of the will, without whose orders not a single -muscle acts; lastly, she knows that, by injuring this sort of brain, she will cause -all resistance to cease, the insect no longer possessing any will to resist. As for -the mode of operating, this is the easiest matter in the world to her; and, when we -have been taught in her school, we are free to try her process in our turn. The instrument -<span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span>employed is no longer the sting: the insect, in its wisdom, has deemed compression -preferable to a poisoned thrust. Let us accept its decision, for we shall see presently -how prudent it is to be convinced of our own ignorance in the presence of the animal’s -knowledge. Lest by editing my account I should fail to give a true impression of the -sublime talent of this masterly operator, I here copy out my note as I pencilled it -on the spot, immediately after the stirring spectacle. -</p> -<p>The Sphex finds that her victim is offering too much resistance, hooking itself here -and there to blades of grass. She then stops to perform upon it the following curious -operation, a sort of <i lang="fr">coup de grâce</i>. The Wasp, still astride her prey, forces open the articulation of the neck, high -up, at the nape. Then she seizes the neck with her mandibles and, without making any -external wound, probes as far forward as possible under the skull, so as to seize -and chew up the ganglia of the head. When this operation is done, the victim is utterly -motionless, incapable of the least resistance, whereas previously the legs, though -deprived of the power of connected movement needed for walking, vigorously opposed -the process of traction. -</p> -<p>There is the fact in all its eloquence. With <span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span>the points of its mandibles, the insect, while leaving uninjured the thin and supple -membrane of the neck, goes rummaging into the skull and munching the brain. There -is no effusion of blood, no wound, but simply an external pressure. Of course, I kept -for my own purposes the Ephippiger paralysed before my eyes, in order to ascertain -the effects of the operation at my leisure; also, of course, I hastened to repeat -in my turn, upon live Ephippigers, what the Sphex had just taught me. I will here -compare my results with the Wasp’s. -</p> -<p>Two Ephippigers whose cervical ganglia I squeeze and compress with a forceps fall -rapidly into a state resembling that of the victims of the Sphex. Only, they grate -their cymbals if I tease them with a needle; and the legs still retain a few disordered -and languid movements. The difference no doubt is due to the fact that my patients -were not previously injured in their thoracic ganglia, as were those of the Sphex, -who were first stung on the breast. Allowing for this important condition, we see -that I was none too bad a pupil and that I imitated pretty closely my teacher of physiology, -the Sphex. I confess it was not without a certain satisfaction that I succeeded in -doing almost as well as the insect. -</p> -<p>As well? What am I talking about? Wait <span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span>a bit and you shall see that I still have much to learn from the Sphex. For what happens -is that my two patients very soon die: I mean, they really die; and, in four or five -days, I have nothing but putrid corpses before my eyes. And the Wasp’s Ephippiger? -I need hardly say that the Wasp’s Ephippiger, even ten days after the operation, is -perfectly fresh, just as she will be required by the larva for which she has been -destined. Nay, more: only a few hours after the operation under the skull, there reappeared, -as though nothing had occurred, the disorderly movements of the legs, antennæ, palpi, -ovipositor and mandibles; in a word, the insect returned to the condition wherein -it was before the Sphex bit its brain. And these movements were kept up after, though -they became feebler every day. The Sphex had merely reduced her victim to a passing -state of torpor, lasting amply long enough to enable her to bring it home without -resistance; and I, who thought myself her rival, was but a clumsy and barbarous butcher: -I killed my prize. She, with her inimitable dexterity, shrewdly compressed the brain -to produce a lethargy of a few hours; I, brutal through ignorance, perhaps crushed -under my forceps that delicate organ, the main seat of life. If anything could prevent -me from blushing <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>at my defeat, it would be the conviction that very few, if any, could vie with these -clever ones in cleverness. -</p> -<p>Ah, I now understand why the Sphex does not use her sting to injure the cervical ganglia! -A drop of poison injected here, at the centre of vital force, would destroy the whole -nervous system; and death would follow soon after. But it is not death that the huntress -wishes to obtain; the larvæ have not the least use for dead game, for a corpse, in -short, smelling of corruption; and all that she wants to bring about is a lethargy, -a passing torpor, which will put a stop to the victim’s resistance during the carting -process, this resistance being difficult to overcome and moreover dangerous for the -Sphex. The torpor is obtained by a method known in laboratories of experimental physiology: -compression of the brain. The Sphex acts like a Flourens,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1625src" href="#xd31e1625">1</a> who, laying bare an animal’s brain and bearing upon the cerebral mass, forthwith -suppresses intelligence, will, sensibility and movement. The pressure is removed; -and everything reappears. Even so do the remains of the Ephippiger’s life reappear, -as the lethargic effects of a skilfully-directed pressure pass off. The ganglia of -the skull, <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>squeezed between the mandibles but without fatal contusions, gradually recover their -activity and put an end to the general torpor. Admit that it is all alarmingly scientific. -</p> -<p class="tb">. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</p><p> -</p> -<p>Fortune has her entomological whims: you run after her and catch no glimpse of her; -you forget about her and behold, she comes tapping at your door! How vainly I watched -and waited, how many useless journeys I made to see the Languedocian Sphex sacrifice -her Ephippigers! Twenty years pass; these pages are in the printer’s hands; and, one -day early this month, on the 8th of August 1878, my son Emile comes rushing into my -study: -</p> -<p>‘Quick!’ he shouts. ‘Come quick: there’s a Sphex dragging her prey under the plane-trees, -outside the door of the yard!’ -</p> -<p>Emile knew all about the business, from what I had told him, to amuse him when we -used to sit up late, and better still from similar incidents which he had witnessed -in our life out of doors. He is right. I run out and see a magnificent Languedocian -Sphex dragging a paralysed Ephippiger by the antennæ. She is making for the hen-house -close by and seems anxious to scale the wall, with the object of fixing her burrow -under some tile on the roof; for, a few years ago, in the same place, I saw a <span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>Sphex of the same species accomplish the ascent with her game and make her home under -the arch of a badly-joined tile. Perhaps the present Wasp is descended from the one -who performed that arduous climb. -</p> -<p>A like feat seems about to be repeated; and this time before numerous witnesses, for -all the family, working under the shade of the plane-trees, come and form a circle -around the Sphex. They wonder at the unceremonious boldness of the insect, which is -not diverted from its work by a gallery of onlookers; all are struck by its proud -and lusty bearing, as, with raised head and the victim’s antennæ firmly gripped in -its mandibles, it drags the enormous burden after it. I, alone among the spectators, -feel a twinge of regret at the sight: -</p> -<p>‘Ah, if only I had some live Ephippigers!’ I cannot help saying, with not the least -hope of seeing my wish realized. -</p> -<p>‘Live Ephippigers?’ replies Émile. ‘Why, I have some perfectly fresh ones, caught -this morning!’ -</p> -<p>He dashes upstairs, four steps at a time, and runs to his little den, where a fence -of dictionaries encloses a park for the rearing of some fine caterpillars of the Spurge -Hawk-moth. He brings me three Ephippigers, the best that I could wish for, two females -and a male. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span></p> -<p>How did these insects come to be at hand, at the moment when they were wanted, for -an experiment tried in vain twenty years ago? That is another story. A Lesser Grey -Shrike had nested in one of the tall plane-trees of the avenue. Now a few days earlier, -the mistral, the brutal north-west wind of our parts, blew with such violence as to -bend the branches as well as the reeds; and the nest, turned upside down by the swaying -of its support, had dropped its contents, four small birds. Next morning I found the -brood upon the ground; three were killed by the fall, the fourth was still alive. -The survivor was entrusted to the cares of Émile, who went Cricket-hunting twice a -day on the neighbouring grass-plots for the benefit of his young charge. But Crickets -are small and the nurseling’s appetite called for many of them. Another dish was preferred, -the Ephippiger, of whom a stock was collected from time to time among the stalks and -prickly leaves of the eryngo. The three insects which Émile brought me came from the -Shrike’s larder. My pity for the fallen nestling had procured me this unhoped-for -success. -</p> -<p>After making the circle of spectators stand back so as to leave the field clear for -the Sphex, I take away her prey with a pair of pincers and at once give her in exchange -one of my <span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>Ephippigers, carrying a sword at the end of her belly, like the game which I have -abstracted. The dispossessed Wasp stamps her feet two or three times; and that is -the only sign of impatience which she gives. She goes for her new prey, which is too -stout, too obese even to try to avoid pursuit, grips it with her mandibles by the -saddle-shaped corselet, gets astride and, curving her abdomen, slips the end of it -under the Ephippiger’s thorax. Here, no doubt, some stings are administered, though -I am unable to state the number exactly, because of the difficulty of observation. -The Ephippiger, a peaceable victim, suffers herself to be operated on without resistance; -she is like the silly Sheep of our slaughter-houses. The Sphex takes her time and -wields her lancet with a deliberation which favours accuracy of aim. So far, the observer -has nothing to complain of; but the prey touches the ground with its breast and belly, -and exactly what happens underneath escapes his eye. As for interfering and lifting -the Ephippiger a little, so as to see better, that must not be thought of: the murderess -would resheathe her weapon and retire. The act that follows is easy to observe. After -stabbing the thorax, the tip of the abdomen appears under the victim’s neck, which -the operator forces open by pressing the <span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>nape. At this point the sting probes with marked persistency, as if the prick administered -here were more effective than elsewhere. One would be inclined to think that the nerve-centre -attacked is the lower part of the œsophageal chain; but the continuance of movement -in the mouth-parts—the mandibles, jaws and palpi—controlled by this seat of innervation -shows that such is not the case. Through the neck the Sphex reaches simply the ganglia -of the thorax, or at any rate the first of them, which is more easily accessible through -the thin skin of the neck than through the integuments of the chest. -</p> -<p>And in a moment it is all over. Without the least shiver denoting pain, the Ephippiger -becomes henceforth an inert mass. I remove the Sphex’ patient for the second time -and replace it by the other female at my disposal. The same proceedings are repeated, -followed by the same result. The Sphex has performed her skilful surgery thrice over, -almost in immediate succession, first with her own prey and then with my substitutes. -Will she do so a fourth time with the male Ephippiger whom I still have left? I have -my doubts, not because the Wasp is tired, but because the game does not suit her. -I have never seen her with any prey but females, who, crammed with eggs, are <span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>the food which the larvæ appreciate above all others. My suspicion is well founded; -deprived of her capture, the Sphex stubbornly refuses the male whom I offer to her. -She runs hither and thither, with hurried steps, in search of the vanished game; three -or four times she goes up to the Ephippiger, walks round him, casts a scornful glance -at him; and at last she flies away. He is not what her larvæ want; experiment demonstrates -this once again after an interval of twenty years. -</p> -<p>The three females stabbed, two of them before my eyes, remain in my possession. In -each case all the legs are completely paralysed. Whether lying naturally, on its belly -or on its back or side, the insect retains indefinitely whatever position we give -it. A continued fluttering of the antennæ, a few intermittent pulsations of the belly, -and the play of the mouth-parts are the only signs of life. Movement is destroyed -but not susceptibility; for, at the least prick administered to a thin-skinned spot, -the whole body gives a slight shudder. Perhaps, some day, physiology will find in -such victims the material for valuable work on the functions of the nervous system. -The Wasp’s sting, so incomparably skilful at striking a particular point and administering -a wound which affects that point alone, will supplement, with <span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>immense advantage, the experimenter’s brutal scalpel, which rips open where it ought -to give merely a light touch. Meanwhile, here are the results which I have obtained -from the three victims, but in another direction. -</p> -<p>As only the movement of the legs has been destroyed, without any wound save that of -the nerve-centres, which are the seat of that movement, the insect must die of inanition -and not of its injuries. The experiment was conducted as follows: two sound and healthy -Ephippigers, just as I picked them up in the fields, were imprisoned without food, -one in the dark, the other in the light. The second died in four days, the first in -five. This difference of a day is easily explained. In the light, the insect made -greater exertions to recover its liberty; and, as every movement of the animal machine -is accompanied by a corresponding expenditure of energy, a greater sum total of activity -has involved a more rapid consumption of the reserve force of the organism. In the -light, there is more restlessness and a shorter life; in the dark, less restlessness -and a longer life, while no food at all was taken in either case. -</p> -<p>One of my three stabbed Ephippigers was kept in the dark, fasting. In her case there -were not only the conditions of complete abstinence and darkness, but also the serious -wounds <span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>inflicted by the Sphex; and nevertheless for seventeen days I saw her continually -waving her antennæ. As long as this sort of pendulum keeps on swinging, the clock -of life does not stop. On the eighteenth day the creature ceased its antennary movements -and died. The badly-wounded insect therefore lived, under the same conditions, four -times as long as the insect that was untouched. What seemed as though it should be -a cause of death was really a cause of life. -</p> -<p>However paradoxical it may seem at first sight, this result is exceedingly simple. -When untouched, the insect exerts itself and consequently uses up its reserves. When -paralysed, it has merely the feeble, internal movements which are inseparable from -any organism; and its substance is economized in proportion to the weakness of the -action displayed. In the first case, the animal machine is at work and wears itself -out; in the second, it is at rest and saves itself. There being no nourishment now -to repair the waste, the moving insect spends its nutritive reserves in four days -and dies; the motionless insect does not spend them and lives for eighteen days. Life -is a continual dissolution, the physiologists tell us; and the Sphex’ victims give -us the neatest possible demonstration of the fact. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span></p> -<p>One remark more. Fresh food is absolutely necessary for the Wasp’s larvæ. If the prey -were warehoused in the burrow intact, in four or five days it would be a corpse abandoned -to corruption; and the scarce-hatched grub would find nothing to live upon but a putrid -mass. Pricked with the sting, however, it can keep alive for two or three weeks, a -period more than long enough to allow the egg to hatch and the larva to grow. The -paralysing of the victim therefore has a twofold result: first, the living dish remains -motionless and the safety of the delicate grub is not endangered; secondly, the meat -keeps good a long time and thus ensures wholesome food for the larva. Man’s logic, -enlightened by science, could discover nothing better. -</p> -<p>My two other Ephippigers stung by the Sphex were kept in the dark with food. To feed -inert insects, hardly differing from corpses except by the perpetual waving of their -long antennæ, seems at first an impossibility; still, the play of the mouth-parts -gave me some hope and I tried. My success exceeded my anticipations. There was no -question here, of course, of giving them a lettuce-leaf or any other piece of green -stuff on which they might have browsed in their normal state; they were feeble valetudinarians, -who needed spoon-feeding, so to <span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>speak, and supporting with liquid nourishment. I used sugar-and-water. -</p> -<p>Laying the insect on its back, I place a drop of the sugary fluid on its mouth with -a straw. The palpi at once begin to stir; the mandibles and jaws move. The drop is -swallowed with evident satisfaction, especially after a somewhat prolonged fast. I -repeat the dose until it is refused. The meal takes place once a day, sometimes twice, -at irregular intervals, lest I should become too much of a slave to my patients. Well, -one of the Ephippigers lived for twenty-one days on this meagre fare. It was not much, -compared with the eighteen days of the one whom I had left to die of starvation. True, -the insect had twice had a bad fall, having dropped from the experimenting-table to -the floor owing to some piece of awkwardness on my part. The bruises which it received -must have hastened its end. The other, which suffered no accidents, lived for forty -days. As the nourishment employed, sugar-and-water, could not indefinitely take the -place of the natural green food, it is very likely that the insect would have lived -longer still if the usual diet had been possible. And so the point which I had in -view is proved: the victims stung by the Digger-wasps die of starvation and not of -their wounds. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1625"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1625src">1</a></span> Cf. p. 43 <i>n.</i> Flourens’ <i lang="fr">Expériences sur le système nerveux</i> were first published in 1825.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1625src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e359">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter x</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE IGNORANCE OF INSTINCT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The Sphex has shown us how infallibly and with what transcendental art she acts when -guided by the unconscious inspiration of her instinct; she is now going to show us -how poor she is in resource, how limited in intelligence, how illogical even, in circumstances -outside of her regular routine. By a strange inconsistency, characteristic of the -instinctive faculties, profound wisdom is accompanied by an ignorance no less profound. -To instinct nothing is impossible, however great the difficulty may be. In building -her hexagonal cells, with their floors consisting of three lozenges, the Bee solves -with absolute precision the arduous problem of how to achieve the maximum result at -a minimum cost, a problem whose solution by man would demand a powerful mathematical -mind. The Wasps whose larvæ live on prey display in their murderous art methods hardly -rivalled by those of a man versed in the intricacies of anatomy and <span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span>physiology. Nothing is difficult to instinct, so long as the act is not outside the -unvarying cycle of animal existence; on the other hand, nothing is easy to instinct, -if the act is at all removed from the course usually pursued. The insect which astounds -us, which terrifies us with its extraordinary intelligence, surprises us, the next -moment, with its stupidity, when confronted with some simple fact that happens to -lie outside its ordinary practice. The Sphex will supply us with a few instances. -</p> -<p>Let us follow her dragging her Ephippiger home. If fortune smile upon us, we may witness -some such little scene as that which I will now describe. When entering her shelter -under the rock, where she has made her burrow, the Sphex finds, perched on a blade -of grass, a Praying Mantis, a carnivorous insect which hides cannibal habits under -a pious appearance. The danger threatened by this robber ambushed on her path must -be known to the Sphex, for she lets go her game and pluckily rushes upon the Mantis, -to inflict some heavy blows and dislodge her, or at all events to frighten her and -inspire her with respect. The robber does not move, but closes her lethal machinery, -the two terrible saws of the arm and fore-arm. The Sphex goes back to her capture, -harnesses herself to the antennæ and boldly <span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span>passes under the blade of grass whereon the other sits perched. By the direction of -her head we can see that she is on her guard and that she holds the enemy rooted, -motionless, under the menace of her eyes. Her courage meets with the reward which -it deserves: the prey is stored away without further mishap. -</p> -<p>A word more on the Praying Mantis, or, as they say in Provence, <i lang="fr">lou Prégo Diéou</i>, the Pray-to-God. Her long, pale-green wings, like spreading veils, her head raised -heavenwards, her folded arms, crossed upon her breast, are in fact a sort of travesty -of a nun in ecstasy. And yet she is a ferocious creature, loving carnage. Though not -her favourite spots, the work-yards of the various Digger-wasps receive her visits -pretty frequently. Posted near the burrows, on some bramble or other, she waits for -chance to bring within her reach some of the arrivals, forming a double capture for -her, as she seizes both the huntress and her prey. Her patience is long put to the -test: the Wasp suspects something and is on her guard; still, from time to time, a -rash one gets caught. With a sudden rustle of wings half-unfurled as by the violent -release of a clutch, the Mantis terrifies the newcomer, who hesitates for a moment, -in her fright. Then, with the sharpness of a spring, the toothed fore-arm folds <span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span>back on the toothed upper arm; and the insect is caught between the blades of the -double saw. It is as though the jaws of a Wolf-trap were closing on the animal that -had nibbled at its bait. Thereupon, without unloosing the cruel machine, the Mantis -gnaws her victim by small mouthfuls. Such are the ecstasies, the prayers, the mystic -meditations of the <i lang="fr">Prégo Diéou</i>. -</p> -<p>Of the scenes of carnage which the Praying Mantis has left in my memory, let me relate -one. The thing happens in front of a work-yard of Bee-eating Philanthi. These diggers -feed their larvæ on Hive-bees, whom they catch on the flowers while gathering pollen -and honey. If the Philanthus who has made a capture feels that her Bee is swollen -with honey, she never fails, before storing her, to squeeze her crop, either on the -way or at the entrance of the dwelling, so as to make her disgorge the delicious syrup, -which she drinks by licking the tongue which her unfortunate victim, in her death-agony, -sticks out of her mouth at full length. This profanation of a dying creature, whose -enemy squeezes its belly to empty it and feast on the contents, has something so hideous -about it that I should denounce the Philanthus as a brutal murderess, if animals were -capable of wrongdoing. At the moment of some such <span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>horrible banquet, I have seen the Wasp, with her prey, seized by the Mantis: the bandit -was rifled by another bandit. And here is an awful detail: while the Mantis held her -transfixed under the points of the double saw and was already munching her belly, -the Wasp continued to lick the honey of her Bee, unable to relinquish the delicious -food even amid the terrors of death. Let us hasten to cast a veil over these horrors. -</p> -<p>We will return to the Sphex, with whose burrow we must make ourselves acquainted before -we go further. This burrow is a hole made in fine sand, or rather in a sort of dust -at the bottom of a natural shelter. Its entrance-passage is very short, merely an -inch or two, without a bend, and leads to a single, roomy, oval chamber. The whole -thing is a rough den, hastily dug out, rather than a leisurely and artistically excavated -dwelling. I have explained that the reason for this simplicity is that the game is -captured first and set down for a moment on the hunting-field while the Wasp hurriedly -makes a burrow in the vicinity, a method of procedure which allows of but one chamber -or cell to each retreat. For who can tell whither the chances of the day will lead -the huntress for her second capture? The prisoner is heavy and the burrow must therefore -be <span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>near; so to-day’s home, which is too far away for the next Ephippiger to be conveyed -to it, cannot be utilized to-morrow. Thus, as each prey is caught, there is a fresh -excavation, a fresh burrow, with its single chamber, now here, now there. Having said -this, we will try a few experiments to see how the insect behaves when we create circumstances -new to it. -</p> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main"><i>Experiment I</i></h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">A Sphex, dragging her prey along, is a few inches from the burrow. Without disturbing -her, I cut with a pair of scissors the Ephippiger’s antennæ, which the Wasp, as we -know, uses for harness-ropes. On recovering from the surprise caused by the sudden -lightening of her load, the Sphex goes back to her victim and, without hesitation, -now seizes the root of the antenna, the short stump left by the scissors. It is very -short indeed, hardly a millimetre;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1718src" href="#xd31e1718">1</a> no matter: it is enough for the Sphex, who grips this fag-end of a rope and resumes -her hauling. With the greatest precaution, so as not to injure the Wasp, I now cut -the two antennary stumps level with the skull. Finding nothing left to catch hold -of at the familiar points, the insect seizes, close by, one of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>victim’s long palpi and continues its hauling-work, without appearing at all perturbed -by this change in the harness. I leave it alone. The prey is brought home and placed -so that its head faces the entrance to the burrow; and the Wasp goes in by herself, -to make a brief inspection of the inside of the cell before proceeding to warehouse -the provisions. Her behaviour reminds us of that of the Yellow-winged Sphex in similar -circumstances. I take advantage of this short moment to seize the abandoned prey, -remove all its palpi and place it a little farther off, about half a yard from the -burrow. The Sphex reappears and goes straight to her captive, whom she has seen from -her threshold. She looks at the top of the head, she looks underneath, on either side, -and finds nothing to take hold of. A desperate attempt is made: the Wasp, opening -wide her mandibles, tries to grab the Ephippiger by the head; but the pincers have -not a sufficient compass to take in so large a bulk and they slip off the round, polished -skull. She makes several fresh endeavours, each time without result. She is at length -convinced of the uselessness of her efforts. She draws back a little to one side and -appears to be renouncing further attempts. One would say that she was discouraged; -at least, she smooths her wings with her hind-legs, <span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span>while with her front tarsi, which she first puts into her mouth, she washes her eyes. -This, so it has always seemed to me, is a sign in Hymenoptera of giving up a job. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless there is no lack of parts by which the Ephippiger might be seized and -dragged along as easily as by the antennæ and the palpi. There are the six legs, there -is the ovipositor: all organs slender enough to be gripped boldly and to serve as -hauling-ropes. I agree that the easiest way to effect the storing is to introduce -the prey head first, drawn down by the antennæ; but it would enter almost as readily -if drawn by a leg, especially one of the front legs, for the orifice is wide and the -passage short or sometimes even non-existent. Then how is it that the Sphex did not -once try to seize one of the six tarsi or the tip of the ovipositor, whereas she attempted -the impossible, the absurd, in striving to grip, with her much too short mandibles, -the huge skull of her prey? Can it be that the idea did not occur to her? Then we -will try to suggest it. -</p> -<p>I offer her, right under her mandibles, first a leg, next the end of the abdominal -rapier. The insect obstinately refuses to bite; my repeated blandishments lead to -nothing. A singular huntress, to be embarrassed by her game, not knowing how to seize -it by a leg when she is <span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>not able to take it by the horns! Perhaps my prolonged presence and the unusual events -that have just occurred have disturbed her faculties. Then let us leave the Sphex -to herself, between her Ephippiger and her burrow; let us give her time to collect -herself and, in the calm of solitude, to think out some way of managing her business. -I leave her therefore and continue my walk; and, two hours later, I return to the -same place. The Sphex is gone, the burrow is still open, and the Ephippiger is lying -just where I placed her. Conclusion: the Wasp has tried nothing; she went away, abandoning -everything, her home and her game, when, to utilize them both, all that she had to -do was to take her prey by one leg. And so this rival of Flourens, who but now was -startling us with her cleverness as she dexterously squeezed her victim’s brain to -produce lethargy, becomes incredibly helpless in the simplest case outside her usual -habits. She, who so well knows how to attack a victim’s thoracic ganglia with her -sting and its cervical ganglia with her mandibles; she, who makes such a judicious -difference between a poisoned prick annihilating the vital influence of the nerves -for ever and a pressure causing only momentary torpor, cannot grip her prey by this -part when it is made impossible for her to grip it by any other. To <span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>understand that she can take a leg instead of an antenna is utterly beyond her powers. -She must have the antenna, or some other string attached to the head, such as one -of the palpi. If these cords did not exist, her race would perish, for lack of the -capacity to solve this trivial problem. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main"><i>Experiment II</i></h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The Wasp is engaged in closing her burrow, where the prey has been stored and the -egg laid upon it. With her front tarsi she brushes her doorstep, working backwards -and sweeping into the entrance a stream of dust which passes under her belly and spurts -behind in a parabolic spray as continuous as a liquid spray, so nimble is the sweeper -in her actions. From time to time the Sphex picks out with her mandibles a few grains -of sand, so many solid blocks which she inserts one by one into the mass of dust, -causing it all to cake together by beating and compressing it with her forehead and -mandibles. Walled up by this masonry, the entrance-door soon disappears from sight. -</p> -<p>I intervene in the middle of the work. Pushing the Sphex aside, I carefully clear -the short gallery with the blade of a knife, take away the materials that close it -and restore full <span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span>communication between the cell and the outside. Then, with my forceps, without damaging -the edifice, I take the Ephippiger from the cell, where she lies with her head at -the back and her ovipositor towards the entrance. The Wasp’s egg is on the victim’s -breast, at the usual place, the root of one of the hinder thighs: a proof that the -Sphex was giving the finishing touch to the burrow, with the intention of never returning. -</p> -<p>Having done this and put the stolen prey safely away in a box, I yield my place to -the Sphex, who has been on the watch beside me while I was rifling her home. Finding -the door open, she goes in and stays for a few moments. Then she comes out and resumes -her work where I interrupted it, that is to say, she starts conscientiously stopping -the entrance to the cell by sweeping dust backwards and carrying grains of sand, which -she continues to heap up with scrupulous care, as though she were doing useful work. -When the door is once again thoroughly walled up, the insect brushes itself, seems -to give a glance of satisfaction at the task accomplished, and finally flies away. -</p> -<p>The Sphex must have known that the burrow contained nothing, because she went inside -and even stayed there for some time; and yet, after this inspection of the pillaged -abode, she <span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>once more proceeds to close up the cell with the same care as though nothing out of -the way had happened. Can she be proposing to use this burrow later, to return to -it with a fresh victim and lay a new egg there? If so, her work of closing would be -intended to prevent the access of intruders to the dwelling during her absence; it -would be a measure of prudence against the attempts of other diggers who might covet -the ready-made chamber; it might also be a wise precaution against internal dilapidations. -And, as a matter of fact, some Hunting Wasps do take care to protect the entrance -to the burrow by closing it temporarily, when the work has to be suspended for a time. -Thus I have seen certain Ammophilæ, whose burrow is a perpendicular shaft, block the -entrance to the home with a small flat stone when the insect goes off hunting or ceases -its mining operations at sunset, the hour for striking work. But this is a slight -affair, a mere slab laid over the mouth of the shaft. When the insect comes, it only -takes a moment to remove the little flat stone; and the entrance is free. -</p> -<p>On the other hand, the obstruction which we have just seen built by the Sphex is a -solid barrier, a stout piece of masonry, where dust and gravel form alternate layers -all the way down the passage. It is a definite performance <span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span>and not a provisional defence, as is proved by the care with which it is constructed. -Besides, as I think I have shown pretty clearly, it is very doubtful, considering -the way in which she acts, whether the Sphex will ever return to make use of the home -which she has prepared. The next Ephippiger will be caught elsewhere; and the warehouse -destined to receive her will be dug elsewhere too. But these, after all, are only -arguments: let us rather have recourse to experiment, which is more conclusive here -than logic. -</p> -<p>I allowed nearly a week to elapse, in order to give the Sphex time to return to the -burrow which she had so methodically closed and to make use of it for her next laying -if such were her intention. Events corresponded with the logical inferences: the burrow -was in the condition wherein I left it, still firmly closed, but without provisions, -egg or larva. The proof was decisive: the Wasp had not been back. -</p> -<p>So the plundered Sphex enters her house, makes a leisurely inspection of the empty -chamber, and, a moment afterwards, behaves as though she had not perceived the disappearance -of the bulky prey which but now filled the cell. Did she, in fact, fail to notice -the absence of the provisions and the egg? Is she, who is so clear-sighted in her -murderous proceedings, <span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>dense enough not to realize that the cell is empty? I dare not accuse her of such -stupidity. She is aware of it. But then why that other piece of stupidity which makes -her close—and very conscientiously close—an empty burrow, one which she does not purpose -to victual later? Here the work of closing is useless, is supremely absurd; no matter: -the insect performs it with the same ardour as though the larva’s future depended -on it. The insect’s various instinctive actions are then fatally linked together. -Because one thing has been done, a second thing must inevitably be done to complete -the first or to prepare the way for its completion; and the two acts depend so closely -upon each other that the performing of the first entails that of the second, even -when, owing to casual circumstances, the second has become not only inopportune but -sometimes actually opposed to the insect’s interests. What object can the Sphex have -in blocking up a burrow which has become useless, now that it no longer contains the -victim and the egg, and which will always remain useless, since the insect will not -return to it? The only way to explain this inconsequent action is to look upon it -as the inevitable complement of the actions that went before. In the normal order -of things, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>Sphex hunts down her prey, lays an egg and closes her burrow. The hunting has been -done; the game, it is true, has been withdrawn by me from the cell; never mind: the -hunting has been done, the egg has been laid; and now comes the business of closing -up the home. This is what the insect does, without another thought, without in the -least suspecting the futility of her present labours. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main"><i>Experiment III</i></h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">To know everything and to know nothing, according as it acts under normal or exceptional -conditions: that is the strange antithesis presented by the insect race. Other examples, -also drawn from the Sphex tribe, will confirm this conclusion. The White-edged Sphex -(<i lang="la">S. albisecta</i>) attacks medium-sized Locusts, whereof the different species to be found in the neighbourhood -of the burrow all furnish her with their tribute of victims. Because of the abundance -of these Acridians, there is no need to go hunting far afield. When the burrow, which -takes the form of a perpendicular shaft, is ready, the Sphex merely explores the purlieus -of her lair, within a small radius, and is not long in finding some Locust browsing -in the sunshine. To pounce upon her and sting her, <span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>despite her kicking, is to the Sphex the matter of a moment. After some fluttering -of its wings, which unfurl their carmine or azure fan, after some drowsy stretching -of its legs, the victim ceases to move. It has now to be brought home, on foot. For -this laborious operation the Sphex employs the same method as her kinswomen, that -is to say, she drags her prize along between her legs, holding one of its antennæ -in her mandibles. If she encounters some grassy jungle, she goes hopping and flitting -from blade to blade, without ever letting slip her prey. When at last she comes within -a few feet of her dwelling, she performs a manœuvre which is also practised by the -Languedocian Sphex; but she does not attach as much importance to it, for she frequently -neglects it. Leaving her captive on the road, the Wasp hurries home, though no apparent -danger threatens her abode, and puts her head through the entrance several times, -even going part of the way down the burrow. She next returns to the Locust and, after -bringing her nearer the goal, leaves her a second time to revisit the burrow. This -performance is repeated over and over again, always with the same anxious haste. -</p> -<p>These visits are sometimes followed by grievous accidents. The victim, rashly abandoned -<span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>on hilly ground, rolls to the bottom of the slope; and the Sphex on her return, no -longer finding it where she left it, is obliged to seek for it, sometimes fruitlessly. -If she find it, she must renew a toilsome climb, which does not prevent her from once -more abandoning her booty on the same unlucky declivity. Of these repeated visits -to the mouth of the shaft, the first can be very logically explained. The Wasp, before -arriving with her heavy burden, inquires whether the entrance to the home be really -clear, whether nothing will hinder her from bringing in her game. But, once this first -reconnaissance is made, what can be the use of the rest, following one after the other, -at close intervals? Is the Sphex so volatile in her ideas that she forgets the visit -which she has just paid and runs afresh to the burrow a moment later, only to forget -this new inspection also and to start doing the same thing over and over again? That -would be a memory with very fleeting recollections, whence the impression vanished -almost as soon as it was produced. Let us not linger too long on this obscure point. -</p> -<p>At last the game is brought to the brink of the shaft, with its antennæ hanging down -the hole. We now again see, faithfully imitated, the method employed in the like case -by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span>Yellow-winged Sphex and also, but under less striking conditions, by the Languedocian -Sphex. The Wasp enters alone, inspects the interior, reappears at the entrance, lays -hold of the antennæ and drags the Locust down. While the Locust-huntress was making -her examination of the home, I have pushed her prize a little farther back; and I -obtained results similar in all respects to those which the Cricket-huntress gave -me. Each Sphex displays the same obstinacy in diving down her burrow before dragging -in the prey. Let us recall here that the Yellow-winged Sphex does not always allow -herself to be caught by this trick of pulling away her Cricket. There are picked tribes, -strong-minded families which, after a few disappointments, see through the experimenter’s -wiles and know how to baffle them. But these revolutionaries, fit subjects for progress, -are the minority; the remainder, mulish conservatives clinging to the old manners -and customs, are the majority, the crowd. I am unable to say whether the Locust-huntress -also varies in ingenuity according to the district which she hails from. -</p> -<p>But here is something more remarkable; and it is this with which I wanted to conclude -the present experiment. After repeatedly withdrawing the White-edged Sphex’ prize -from the <span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>mouth of the pit and compelling her to come and fetch it again, I take advantage of -her descent to the bottom of the shaft to seize the prey and put it in a place of -safety where she cannot find it. The Sphex comes up, looks about for a long time and, -when she is convinced that the prey is really lost, goes down into her home again. -A few moments after, she reappears. Is it with the intention of resuming the chase? -Not the least in the world: the Sphex begins to stop up the burrow. And what we see -is not a temporary closing, effected with a small flat stone, a slab covering the -mouth of the well; it is a final closing, carefully done with dust and gravel swept -into the passage until it is filled up. The White-edged Sphex makes only one cell -at the bottom of her shaft and puts one head of game into this cell. That single Locust -has been caught and dragged to the edge of the hole. If she was not stored away, it -was not the huntress’s fault, but mine. The Wasp performed her task according to the -inflexible rule; and, also according to the inflexible rule, she completes her work -by stopping up the dwelling, empty though it be. We have here an exact repetition -of the useless exertions made by the Languedocian Sphex whose home has just been plundered. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main"><i>Experiment IV</i></h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">It is almost impossible to make certain whether the Yellow-winged Sphex, who constructs -several cells at the end of the same passage and stacks several Crickets in each, -is equally illogical when accidentally disturbed in her proceedings. A cell can be -closed though empty or imperfectly victualled, and the Wasp will none the less continue -to come to the same burrow in order to work at the others. Nevertheless, I have reason -to believe that this Sphex is subject to the same aberrations as her two kinswomen. -My conviction is based on the following facts: the number of Crickets found in the -cells, when all the work is done, is usually four to each cell, although it is not -uncommon to find only three, or even two. Four appears to me to be the normal number, -first, because it is the most frequent and, secondly, because, when rearing young -larvæ dug up while they were still engaged on their first joint, I found that all -of them, those actually provided with only two or three pieces of game as well as -those which had four, easily managed the various Crickets wherewith I served them -one by one, up to and including the fourth, but that after this they refused all nourishment, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>or barely touched the fifth ration. If four Crickets are necessary to the larva to -acquire the full development called for by its organization, why are sometimes only -three, sometimes only two provided for it? Why this enormous difference in the quantity -of the victuals, some larvæ having twice as much as the others? It cannot be because -of any difference in the size of the dishes provided to satisfy the grub’s appetite, -for all have very much the same dimensions; and it can therefore be due only to the -wastage of game on the way. We find, in fact, at the foot of the banks whose upper -stages are occupied by the Sphex-wasps, Crickets that have been paralysed but lost, -owing to the slope of the ground, down which they have slipped when the huntresses -have momentarily left them, for some reason or other. These Crickets fall a prey to -the Ants and Flies; and the Sphex-wasps who come across them take good care not to -pick them up, for, if they did, they would themselves be admitting enemies into the -house. -</p> -<p>These facts seem to me to prove that, while the Yellow-winged Sphex’ arithmetical -powers enable her to calculate exactly how many victims to capture, she cannot achieve -a census of those which have safely reached their destination. It is as though the -insect had no <span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>mathematical guide beyond an irresistible impulse that prompts her to hunt for game -a definite number of times. When the Sphex has made the requisite number of journeys, -when she has done her utmost to store the captures that result from these, her work -is ended; and she closes the cell whether completely or incompletely provisioned. -Nature has endowed her with only those faculties called for in ordinary circumstances -by the interests of her larvæ; and, as these blind faculties, which cannot be modified -by experience, are sufficient for the preservation of the race, the insect is unable -to go beyond them. -</p> -<p>I conclude therefore as I began: instinct knows everything, in the undeviating paths -marked out for it; it knows nothing, outside those paths. The sublime inspirations -of science and the astounding inconsistencies of stupidity are both its portion, according -as the insect acts under normal or accidental conditions. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1718"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1718src">1</a></span> ·039 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1718src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e367">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xi</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">AN ASCENT OF MONT VENTOUX</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Thanks to its isolated position, which leaves it freely exposed on every side to atmospheric -influence; thanks also to its height, which makes it the topmost point of France within -the frontiers of either the Alps or Pyrenees, our bare Provençal mountain, Mont Ventoux, -lends itself remarkably well to the study of the climatic distribution of plants. -At its base the tender olive thrives, with all that multitude of semiligneous plants, -such as the thyme, whose aromatic fragrance calls for the sun of the Mediterranean -regions; on the summit, mantled with snow for at least half the year, the ground is -covered with a northern flora, borrowed to some extent from arctic shores. Half a -day’s journey in an upward direction brings before our eyes a succession of the chief -vegetable types which we should find in the course of a long voyage from south to -north along the same meridian. At the start, your feet tread the scented tufts of -the thyme that forms a continuous <span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>carpet on the lower slopes; in a few hours they will be treading the dark hassocks -of the opposite-leaved saxifrage, the first plant to greet the botanist who lands -on the coast of Spitzbergen in July. Below, in the hedges, you have picked the scarlet -flowers of the pomegranate, a lover of African skies; above you will pick a shaggy -little poppy, which shelters its stalks under a coverlet of tiny fragments of stone -and unfolds its spreading yellow corolla as readily in the icy solitudes of Greenland -and the North Cape as on the upper slopes of the Ventoux. -</p> -<p>These contrasts have always something fresh and stimulating about them; and, after -twenty-five ascents, they still retain their interest for me. I made my twenty-third -in August 1865. There were eight of us: three whose chief object was to botanize and -five attracted by a mountain expedition and the panorama of the heights. Not one of -our five companions who were not interested in the study of plants has since expressed -a desire to accompany me a second time. The fact is that the climb is a hard and tiring -one; and the sight of a sunrise does not make up for the fatigue endured. -</p> -<p>One might best compare the Ventoux with a heap of stones broken up for road-mending -purposes. Raise this heap suddenly to a height <span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>of a mile and a quarter, increase its base in proportion, cover the white of the limestone -with the black patch of the forests, and you have a clear idea of the general aspect -of the mountain. This accumulation of rubbish—sometimes small chips, sometimes huge -blocks—rises from the plain without preliminary slopes or successive terraces that -would render the ascent less arduous by dividing it into stages. The climb begins -at once by rocky paths, the best of which is worse than the surface of a road newly -strewn with stones, and continues, becoming ever rougher and rougher, right to the -summit, the height of which is 6270 feet. Greenswards, babbling brooks, the spacious -shade of venerable trees, all the things, in short, that lend such charm to other -mountains, are here unknown and are replaced by an interminable bed of limestone broken -into scales, which slip under our feet with a sharp, almost metallic ‘click.’ By way -of cascades the Ventoux has rills of stones; the rattle of falling rocks takes the -place of the whispering waters. -</p> -<p>We are at Bédoin, at the foot of the mountain. The arrangements with the guide have -been made, the hour of the start fixed; the provisions are being talked over and got -ready. Let us try to rest, for we shall have to spend a <span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span>sleepless night on the mountain to-morrow. But sleeping is just the difficulty; I -have never managed it and that is where the chief cause of fatigue lies. I would therefore -advise those of my readers who think of making a botanizing ascent of the Ventoux -not to arrive at Bédoin on a Sunday evening. They will thus avoid the noisy bustle -of an inn with a café attached to it, those endless loud-voiced conversations, those -echoing cannons of the billiard-balls, the ringing of glasses, the drinking-songs, -the ditties of nocturnal wayfarers, the bellowing of the brass band at the ball hard -by, and the other tribulations inseparable from this blessed day of idleness and jollification. -Will they obtain a better rest on a week-day? I hope so, but I do not guarantee it. -For my part, I did not close an eye. All night long, the rusty spit, working to provide -us with food, creaked and groaned under my bedroom. A thin board was all that separated -me from that machine of the devil. -</p> -<p>But already the sky is growing light. A donkey brays beneath the windows. It is time -to get up. We might as well not have gone to bed. Foodstuffs and baggage are strapped -on; and, with a ‘<i>Ja! Hi!</i>’ from the guide, we are off. It is four o’clock in the morning. At the head of the -caravan walks Triboulet, with his Mule and his Ass: Triboulet, <span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span>the Nestor of the Ventoux guides. My botanical colleagues inspect the vegetation on -either side of the road by the cold light of the dawn; the others talk. I follow the -party with a barometer slung from my shoulder and a note-book and pencil in my hand. -</p> -<p>My barometer, intended for taking the altitude of the principal botanical halts, soon -becomes a pretext for attacks on the gourd with the rum. No sooner is a noteworthy -plant observed than somebody cries: -</p> -<p>‘Quick, let’s look at the barometer!’ -</p> -<p>And we all crowd around the gourd, the scientific instrument coming later. The coolness -of the morning and our walk make us appreciate these references to the barometer so -thoroughly that the level of the stimulant falls even more swiftly than that of the -mercury. In the interests of the immediate future, I must consult Torricelli’s tube -a little less often. -</p> -<p>As the temperature grows too cold for them, first the oak and the ilex disappear by -degrees; then the vine and the almond-tree; and next the mulberry, the walnut-tree -and the white oak. Box becomes plentiful. We enter upon a monotonous region extending -from the end of the cultivated fields to the lower boundary of the beech-woods, where -the predominant plant is <i lang="la">Satureia montana</i>, the winter savory, <span class="pageNum" id="pb201">[<a href="#pb201">201</a>]</span>known here by its popular name of <i lang="fr">pébré d’asé</i>, Ass’s pepper, because of the acrid flavour of its tiny leaves, impregnated with -essential oil. Certain small cheeses forming part of our stores are powdered with -this strong spice. Already more than one of us is biting into them in imagination -and casting hungry glances at the provision-bags carried by the Mule. Our hard morning -exercise has brought appetite and more than appetite, a devouring hunger, what Horace -calls <i lang="fr">latrans stomachus</i>. I teach my colleagues how to stay this rumbling stomach until they reach the next -halt; I show them a little sorrel-plant, with arrow-head leaves, the <i lang="la">Rumex scutatus</i>, or French sorrel; and, practising what I preach, I pick a mouthful. At first they -laugh at my suggestion. I let them laugh and soon see them all occupied, each more -eagerly than his fellow, in plucking the precious sorrel. -</p> -<p>While chewing the bitter leaves, we come to the beeches. These are first big, solitary -bushes, trailing on the ground; soon after, dwarf trees, clustering close together; -and, finally, mighty trunks, forming a dense and gloomy forest, whose soil is a mass -of rough limestone blocks. Bowed down in winter by the weight of the snow, battered -all the year round by the fierce gusts of the mistral, many of the trees have lost -<span class="pageNum" id="pb202">[<a href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>their branches and are twisted into grotesque positions, or even lie flat on the ground. -An hour or more is spent in crossing this wooded zone, which from a distance shows -against the sides of the Ventoux like a black belt. Then once more the beeches become -bushy and scattered. We have reached their upper boundary and, to the great relief -of all of us, despite the sorrel-leaves, we have also reached the stopping-place selected -for our lunch. -</p> -<p>We are at the source of the Grave, a slender stream of water caught, as it bubbles -from the ground, in a series of long beech-trunk troughs, where the mountain shepherds -come to water their flocks. The temperature of the spring is 45° F.; and its coolness -is a priceless boon for us who have come from the sultry oven of the plain. The cloth -is spread on a charming carpet of Alpine plants, with glittering among them the thyme-leaved -paronychia, whose wide, thin bracts look like silver scales. The food is taken out -of the bags, the bottles extracted from their bed of hay. On this side are the joints, -the legs of mutton stuffed with garlic, the stacks of loaves; on that, the tasteless -chickens, for our grinders to toy with presently, when the edge has been taken off -our appetite. At no great distance, set in a place of honour, are the Ventoux cheeses -spiced with winter <span class="pageNum" id="pb203">[<a href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>savory, the little <i lang="fr">pébré d’asé</i> cheeses, flanked by Aries sausages, whose pink flesh is mottled with cubes of bacon -and whole pepper-corns. Over here, in this corner, are green olives still dripping -with brine and black olives soaking in oil; in that other, Cavaillon melons, some -white, some orange, to suit every taste; and, down there, a jar of anchovies which -make you drink hard and so keep your strength up. Lastly, the bottles are cooling -in the ice-cold water of the trough over there. Have we forgotten anything? Yes, we -have not mentioned the crowning side-dish, the onions, to be eaten raw with salt. -Our two Parisians—for we have two among us, my fellow-botanists—are at first a little -startled by this very invigorating bill of fare; soon they will be the first to burst -into praises. Are we all ready? Then let us sit down. -</p> -<p>And now begins one of those Homeric repasts which mark red-letter days in one’s life. -The first mouthfuls are almost frenzied. Slices of mutton and chunks of bread follow -one another with alarming rapidity. Each of us, without communicating his apprehensions -to the others, casts an anxious glance at the victuals and asks himself: -</p> -<p>‘If this is the way we are going on, shall we have enough for to-night and to-morrow?’ -<span class="pageNum" id="pb204">[<a href="#pb204">204</a>]</span></p> -<p>However, the craving is allayed; we began by devouring in silence, we now eat and -talk. Our apprehensions for the morrow are likewise relieved; and we give due credit -to the man who ordered the menu, who foresaw this hunger-fit and who arranged to cope -with it worthily. The time has come for us to appreciate the victuals as connoisseurs. -One praises the olives, stabbing them one by one with the point of his knife; another -lauds the anchovies as he cuts up the little ochre-coloured fishes on his bread; a -third waxes enthusiastic about the sausage; and all with one accord extol the <i lang="fr">pébré d’asé</i> cheeses, no larger than the palm of a man’s hand. Pipes and cigars are lit; and we -stretch ourselves on our backs in the grass, with the sun shining down upon us. -</p> -<p>An hour’s rest and we are off again, for time presses. The guide with the baggage -will go alone, towards the west, skirting the edge of the woods, which has a Mule-path. -He will wait for us at the Jas, or Bâtiment, on the upper boundary of the beeches, -some 5000 feet above the level of the sea. The Jas is a large stone hut, which is -to shelter us, man and beast, to-night. As for us, we continue the ascent to the ridge, -by following which we shall reach the highest peak more easily. From the top, after -sunset, we shall go down to the Jas, where the <span class="pageNum" id="pb205">[<a href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>guide will have arrived long before us. This is the plan proposed and adopted. -</p> -<p>We reach the crested ridge. On the south, the comparatively easy slopes which we have -just climbed stretch as far as the eye can see; on the north, the scene is full of -wild grandeur: the mountain, sometimes hewn perpendicularly, sometimes carved into -rough steps, alarmingly steep, is little else than a sheer precipice a mile high. -If you throw a stone, it never stops, but falls from rock to rock until it reaches -the bottom of the valley, where you can distinguish the bed of the Toulourenc looking -like a ribbon. While my companions loosen masses of rock and send them rolling into -the abyss so that they may watch the frightful fall, I discover under a broad flat -stone one of my old insect acquaintances, the Hairy Ammophila, whom I had always met -by herself on the roadside banks in the plain, whereas here, almost at the top of -the Ventoux, I find her to the number of several hundreds heaped up under one and -the same shelter. -</p> -<p>I was beginning to investigate the reasons for this agglomeration, when the southerly -breeze, which already during the morning had inspired us with a few vague fears, suddenly -brought up a cohort of clouds which melted into rain. Before we knew it, we were shrouded -in a thick, <span class="pageNum" id="pb206">[<a href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>drizzling mist, which prevented us from seeing two yards in front of us. By an unfortunate -coincidence, one of us, my good friend Delacour, had strayed aside in search of <i lang="la">Euphorbia saxitalis</i>, one of the botanical curiosities of these heights. Making a speaking-trumpet of -our hands, we shouted as one man. No answer came. Our voices were lost in the flaky -thickness and the dull sound of the whirling mist. As the wanderer could not hear -us, we had to look for him. In the darkness it was impossible to see one another at -a distance of two or three yards; and I was the only one of the seven to know the -locality. So that nobody might be left in the lurch, we took hands and I placed myself -at the head of the chain. For some minutes we played a regular game of blind-man’s-buff, -leading to nothing. No doubt, on seeing the clouds drift up, Delacour, who knew the -Ventoux, had taken advantage of the last gleams of light to hasten to the shelter -of the Jas. We resolved to make for it ourselves as quickly as possible, for already -our clothes were streaming with rain inside as well as out. Our white-duck trousers -were sticking to us like a second skin. -</p> -<p>A serious difficulty arose: the hurrying backwards and forwards, the twisting and -turning, while we looked about us, had reduced <span class="pageNum" id="pb207">[<a href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>me to the plight of a person whose eyes are bandaged and who is then made to spin -round on his heels. I had lost all sense of direction; I had not the least idea which -was the southern slope. I questioned this man and that; opinions were divided and -most uncertain. The upshot was that not one of us could say where the north lay and -where the south. Never in all my life had I realized the value of the points of the -compass as I did at that moment. All around us was the mystery of the grey haze; beneath -our feet we could just make out the beginning of a slope here and a slope there. But -which was the right one? We had to make a choice and to launch out boldly. If, by -bad luck, we went down the northern slope, we risked breaking our bones over the precipices -the sight of which had but now filled us with dread. Perhaps not one of us would survive -it. I passed a few minutes of acute perplexity. -</p> -<p>‘Let’s stay here,’ said the majority, ‘and wait till the rain stops.’ -</p> -<p>‘That’s bad advice,’ replied the others, of whom I was one, ‘that’s bad advice: the -rain may last a long while; and, wet through as we are, we shall freeze on the spot -at the first chill of night.’ -</p> -<p>My worthy friend Bernard Verlot, who had <span class="pageNum" id="pb208">[<a href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>come from the Paris <span lang="fr">Jardin des Plantes</span> on purpose to climb the Ventoux in my company, displayed an imperturbable calmness, -trusting to my good sense to get us out of our scrape. I drew him a little to one -side, in order not to increase the panic of the others, and revealed my terrible fears -to him. We held a council of two and tried to make up by the compass of reasoning -for the absence of the magnetic needle. -</p> -<p>‘When the clouds came,’ I asked him, ‘wasn’t it from the south?’ -</p> -<p>‘From the south, certainly.’ -</p> -<p>‘And, though one could hardly perceive the wind, the rain slanted slightly from south -to north?’ -</p> -<p>‘Yes, I noticed that as long as I could see anything. Isn’t that enough to tell us -the way? Let us go down on the side from which the rain comes.’ -</p> -<p>‘I thought of that, but I have my doubts. The wind is not strong enough to have a -definite direction. It may be an eddying breeze, as happens on a mountain-top surrounded -by clouds. There is nothing to tell me that the direction is still the same and that -the wind is not now blowing from the north.’ -</p> -<p>‘I have my doubts also. Then what shall we do?’ -<span class="pageNum" id="pb209">[<a href="#pb209">209</a>]</span></p> -<p>‘What shall we do? That’s the difficulty! But look here: if the wind has not changed, -we ought to be wetter on the left, because we got the rain on that side until we lost -our bearings. If it has changed, we must be more or less equally wet all over. Let -us feel ourselves and decide. Will that do?’ -</p> -<p>‘Yes.’ -</p> -<p>‘And suppose I’m wrong?’ -</p> -<p>‘You’re not wrong.’ -</p> -<p>The matter was explained to our companions in a few words. All felt themselves, not -outside, which would not have been enough, but right inside their underclothing, and -it was with unspeakable relief that I heard them unanimously declare their left side -to be much wetter than the right. The wind had not changed. All was well; and we determined -to go towards the rain. The chain was formed once more, with myself at the head and -Verlot in the rear, so as to leave no stragglers behind. Before starting, I asked -my friend, for the last time: -</p> -<p>‘Well, shall we risk it?’ -</p> -<p>‘Yes, let’s risk it; I’ll follow you.’ -</p> -<p>And we plunged blindly into the formidable unknown. -</p> -<p>We had not taken twenty strides, twenty of those strides which one is not able to -control on a steep slope, before all fear of danger was <span class="pageNum" id="pb210">[<a href="#pb210">210</a>]</span>over. Under our feet was not the empty space of the abyss but the longed-for ground, -the ground covered with small stones, which rolled down in long torrents. To all of -us, this rattling sound, denoting a firm footing, was heavenly music. In a few minutes -we reached the upper edge of the beeches. Here the darkness was even greater than -at the top of the mountain: we had to stoop to the ground to see where we were walking. -How, in the gloom, were we to find the Jas, buried away in the dense wood? Two plants, -the assiduous haunters of places frequented by man—the <i lang="la">Chenopodium bonus-Henricus</i>, or good-king-Henry, and the common nettle—served me as a clue. I swept my free hand -through the air as I went along. Each sting that I felt told me of a nettle, in other -words, a landmark. Verlot, in the rear, also lunged about as best he could and let -smarting stings make up for the lack of vision. Our companions had but little faith -in this style of reconnoitring. They spoke of continuing the furious descent, of going -back, if necessary, all the way to Bédoin. Verlot, more trustful of the botanical -insight with which he himself was so richly endowed, joined me in pursuing our search, -in reassuring the more demoralized and in showing them that it was possible, by questioning -the plants with our hands, to reach <span class="pageNum" id="pb211">[<a href="#pb211">211</a>]</span>our night’s lodging in spite of the darkness. They gave way to our arguments; and, -not long after, pressing on from one clump of nettles to another, our party arrived -at the Jas. -</p> -<p>There we found Delacour, as well as the guide with our luggage, sheltered betimes -from the rain. A blazing fire and a change of clothes soon restored our wonted cheerfulness. -A block of snow, brought from the valley near by, was hung in a bag in front of the -hearth. A bottle caught the water as the snow melted: this was the cistern for our -evening meal. And the night was spent on a bed of beech-leaves, rubbed into powder -by our predecessors; and they were numerous. Who knows how many years had passed since -that mattress, now a vegetable mould, was last renewed! -</p> -<p>Those who could not sleep were told off to keep up the fire. There was no lack of -hands to stir it, for the smoke, which had no other outlet than a large hole made -by the partial collapse of the roof, filled the hut with an atmosphere fit to smoke -herrings. To obtain a few mouthfuls of breathable air, we had to seek them in the -lower strata, with our noses almost on the ground. And so we coughed and cursed and -poked the fire, but vainly tried to sleep. We were all afoot by two o’clock in the -morning, ready to climb the highest cone <span class="pageNum" id="pb212">[<a href="#pb212">212</a>]</span>and watch the sunrise. The rain had stopped, the sky was glorious, promising a perfect -day. -</p> -<p>During the ascent some of us felt a sort of seasickness, caused first by fatigue and -secondly by the rarefaction of the air. The barometer had fallen 5·4 inches; the air -which we were breathing had lost a fifth of its density and was therefore one-fifth -less rich in oxygen. Had we been in good condition, this slight alteration in the -air would have passed unnoticed; but, coming immediately after the exertions of the -day before and a sleepless night, it increased our discomfort. And so we climbed slowly, -with aching legs and panting chests. More than one of us had to stop and rest after -every twentieth step. -</p> -<p>At last we were there. We took refuge in the rustic chapel of Sainte-Croix to take -breath and counteract the nipping morning air by a pull at the gourd, which this time -was drained to the last drop. Soon the sun rose. Ventoux projected to the extreme -limits of the horizon its triangular shadow, whose sides became brightly tinged with -violet by the effect of the diffracted rays. To the south and west stretched misty -plains, where, when the sun was higher in the heavens, we should be able to make out -the Rhône, looking like a silver thread. On the north and east, under our feet, lay -an <span class="pageNum" id="pb213">[<a href="#pb213">213</a>]</span>enormous bank of clouds, a sort of ocean of cotton-wool, whence peeped, like islands -of slag, the dark summits of the lower mountains. A few tops, with their trailing -glaciers, gleamed in the direction of the Alps. -</p> -<p>But botany called our attention and we had to tear ourselves from this magic spectacle. -The time of our ascent, in August, was a little late in the year; many plants were -no longer in flower. Would you do some really fruitful herborizing? Be there in the -first fortnight of July; above all, be ahead of the grazing herds: where the Sheep -has browsed you will gather none but wretched leavings. While still spared by the -hungry flocks, the top of the Ventoux in July is a literal bed of flowers; its loose -stony surface is studded with them. My memory recalls, all streaming with the morning -dew, those elegant tufts of <i lang="la">Androsace villosa</i>, with its pink-centred white blooms; the Mont-Cenis violet, spreading its great blue -blossoms over the chips of limestone; the spikenard valerian, which blends the sweet -perfume of its flowers with the offensive odour of its roots; the wedge-leaved globularia, -forming close carpets of bright green dotted with blue capitula; the Alpine forget-me-not, -whose blue rivals that of the skies; the Candolla candytuft, whose tiny stalk bears -a dense head of little white <span class="pageNum" id="pb214">[<a href="#pb214">214</a>]</span>flowers and goes winding among the loose stones; the opposite-leaved saxifrage and -the musky saxifrage, both of them packed into little dark cushions, studded in the -first case with purple flowers and in the second with white flowers washed with yellow. -When the sun’s rays are hotter, we shall see fluttering idly from one tuft of blossom -to another a magnificent Butterfly with white wings adorned with four bright-crimson -spots, surrounded with black. ’Tis <i lang="la">Parnassius Apollo</i>, the beautiful occupant of the Alpine solitudes, near the eternal snows. Her caterpillar -lives on the saxifrages. -</p> -<p>Here let us end this sketch of the sweet joys that await the naturalist on the summit -of Mont Ventoux and return to the Hairy Ammophila, who was lurking yesterday in her -legions under the shelter of a stone when the misty rain came and enshrouded us. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb215">[<a href="#pb215">215</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e375">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE TRAVELLERS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have told in the last chapter how, on the ridges of Mont Ventoux, at a height of -nearly 6000 feet, I had one of those entomological windfalls which would be rich in -results if they occurred often enough to serve the purpose of continuous study. Unfortunately, -mine was a solitary instance and I despair of ever repeating it. I can therefore only -base conjectures on it, in the hope that future observers will replace my surmises -with certainties. -</p> -<p>Under the shelter of a broad, flat stone I discovered some hundreds of Ammophilæ (<i lang="la">A. hirsuta</i>), heaped one on top of the other almost as closely as the Bees in a swarm. As soon -as I lifted the stone, all this little hairy world began to run about, without making -any attempt to fly away. I shifted the mass by handfuls: not one of the Wasps looked -as though she wished to desert the rest. They seemed indissolubly united by common -interests; none of them would go unless all went. I examined <span class="pageNum" id="pb216">[<a href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>with every possible care the flat stone that sheltered them, as well as the ground -underneath and just around it, and discovered not a thing to tell me the cause of -this strange assemblage. Having nothing better left to do, I tried to count them; -and it was then that the clouds came and put an end to my observations and plunged -us into that darkness of which I have described the anxious consequences. At the first -drops of rain, before leaving the spot, I hastened to put back the stone and replace -the Ammophilæ in their shelter. I give myself a good mark, which I hope that the reader -will confirm, for having taken the precaution not to leave the poor insects whom my -curiosity had disturbed at the mercy of the downpour. -</p> -<p>The Hairy Ammophila is not rare in the plains, but she is always found singly by the -side of the paths or on the sandy slopes, now engaged in digging her well, anon busily -carting her heavy caterpillar. She lives alone, like the Languedocian Sphex; and it -was a great surprise to me to come upon such a number of this species collected under -one and the same stone almost at the top of Mont Ventoux. Instead of the isolated -specimen which I had known hitherto, a crowded company presented itself to my eyes. -Let us try to trace the probable causes of this agglomeration. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb217">[<a href="#pb217">217</a>]</span></p> -<p>The Hairy Ammophila is one of the very rare exceptions among the Digger-wasps in the -matter of nest-building; she gets hers ready in the early days of spring. Towards -the end of March, if the season be mild, or at latest in the first fortnight of April, -when the Crickets assume the adult form and laboriously cast the skin of infancy on -the threshold of their homes, when the poet’s-narcissus puts forth its first flowers -and the Bunting utters his long-drawn call from the top of the poplars in the fields, -<i lang="la">Ammophila hirsuta</i> is at work digging a home for her grubs and victualling it, whereas the other Ammophilæ -and the various Hunting Wasps in general postpone this labour until autumn, during -September and October. This early nidification, preceding by six months the date adopted -by the vast majority, at once suggests a few reflections. -</p> -<p>We wonder if the Ammophilæ whom we find occupied with their burrows in the first days -of April are really insects of that year, that is to say, if these spring workers -completed their metamorphosis and left their cocoons during the previous three months. -The general rule is for the Digger to become a perfect insect, to quit her subterranean -dwelling and to busy herself with her larvæ all in one season. Most of the Predatory -Wasps leave the galleries where they <span class="pageNum" id="pb218">[<a href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>lived as larvæ in the months of June and July and display their talents as miners -and hunters in the following months of August, September and October. -</p> -<p>Does a similar law apply to the Hairy Ammophila? Does the same season witness the -insect’s final transformation and its labours? It is very doubtful, for the Wasp occupied -on the work of the burrow at the end of March would in that case have to complete -her metamorphosis and to break out of her cocoon during the winter, or at latest in -February. The severity of the climate at this period does not allow us to accept such -a conclusion. It is not at a time when the bleak mistral howls for a fortnight without -intermission and freezes the ground hard, it is not at a time when snowstorms follow -close upon that icy blast, that the delicate transformations of the nymphosis are -able to take place or the insect to dream of abandoning the shelter of its cocoon. -It needs the warm moisture of the earth under the summer sun before it can leave its -cell. -</p> -<p>If I knew the exact period at which the Hairy Ammophila emerges from her native burrow, -this would help me greatly; but, to my intense regret, I do not know it. My notes, -collected day by day, with the lack of order inevitable in a type of research that -is constantly <span class="pageNum" id="pb219">[<a href="#pb219">219</a>]</span>subject to the hazards of the unforeseen, are silent on this point, of which I clearly -perceive the importance now that I am trying to arrange my materials in order to write -these lines. I find the Sandy Ammophila mentioned as hatching on the 5th of June and -the Silvery Ammophila on the 20th of that month; but my records contain not a word -that relates to the hatching of the Hairy Ammophila. It is a detail which, by an oversight, -has never been cleared up. The dates given for the other two species come under the -general law, which lays down that the perfect insect shall appear during the hot season. -I fix the same period, by analogy, as that for the Hairy Ammophila’s emergence from -the cocoon. -</p> -<p>Then whence come the Ammophilæ whom we see working at their burrows at the end of -March and in April? We are driven to the conclusion that these Wasps belong not to -the present but to the previous year; that they left their cells at the usual time, -in June and July, got through the winter and began to make their nests as soon as -the spring came. In a word, they are hibernating insects. And this conclusion is fully -borne out by experiment. -</p> -<p>If we will but search patiently in the perpendicular banks of earth or sand facing -due south, especially those in which generations of <span class="pageNum" id="pb220">[<a href="#pb220">220</a>]</span>different honey-gathering Bees have succeeded one another year after year and riddled -the wall with a labyrinth of tunnels until it looks like an enormous sponge, we are -almost sure, in midwinter, to find the Hairy Ammophila snugly ensconced in the shelters -provided by the sunny bank, alone or in groups of three or four, idly awaiting the -arrival of the fine weather. I have been able to give myself as often as I wished -this little treat of renewing my acquaintance, amid the gloom and cold of winter, -with the pretty Wasp who enlivens the greensward beside the paths at the first notes -of the Bunting and the Cricket. When there is no wind and the sun is shining brightly, -the warmth-loving insect comes to its threshold to bask luxuriously in the hottest -rays, or it will even timidly venture outside and, step by step, stroll over the surface -of the spongy bank, polishing its wings as it goes. Even so does the little Grey Lizard -behave, when the sun once more begins to warm the old wall that represents his native -land. -</p> -<p>But vain would be our search in winter, even in the most sheltered refuges, for a -Cerceris, Sphex, Philanthus, Bembex or other Wasp with carnivorous grubs. All died -after their autumnal labours and their race is not represented, in the cold season, -save by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb221">[<a href="#pb221">221</a>]</span>larvæ slumbering in their cells. It is, then, by a most rare exception that the Hairy -Ammophila, hatched in the hot season, spends the following winter in some warm shelter; -and this is the reason why she appears so very early in the spring. -</p> -<p>With these data to go upon, let us try to explain the cluster of Ammophilæ which I -observed on the ridges of Mont Ventoux. What could these numerous Wasps have been -doing, heaped up under their stone? Were they preparing to take up their winter quarters -there and, slumbering under cover, to await the season favourable to their work? Everything -tends to show that this is improbable. It is not in August, at the hottest time of -year, that an animal is overcome with its winter drowsiness. Nor is it any use to -suggest the want of food, of honeyed juices sucked from the flowers. The September -showers are at hand; and vegetation, suspended for a moment by the heat of the dog-days, -will gather fresh vigour and cover the fields with blossoms almost as diverse as those -of spring. This season of revelry for the majority of Wasps and Bees could never be -a period of torpor for the Hairy Ammophila. -</p> -<p>And then have we any right to imagine that the heights of Ventoux, swept by the gusts -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb222">[<a href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>the mistral, which sometimes uproots both beech and pine; that crests where the north -wind sends the snow-flakes whirling for six months in succession; that peaks wrapped -for the best part of the year in cold cloud-fogs, can be adopted as a winter refuge -by an insect enamoured of the sun? One might as well suggest that it should hibernate -among the ice-floes of the North Cape. No, it is not here that the Hairy Ammophila -can spend the cold season. The group which I observed was only passing through. At -the first hint of rain, a hint that escaped us but could not escape the insect, which -is so highly sensitive to the atmospheric variations, the band of travellers had taken -shelter under a stone, waiting for the rain to stop before resuming their flight. -Whence did they come? Whither were they bent? -</p> -<p>In this same month of August, and still more in September, we are visited, in our -warm, olive-clad regions, by caravans of little birds of passage descending by easy -stages from the countries where they have wooed and loved, countries cooler, more -thickly wooded, less wild than ours, where they have reared their broods. They arrive -almost on a fixed day, in an unvarying order, as though guided by the dates of a calendar -known only to themselves. They <span class="pageNum" id="pb223">[<a href="#pb223">223</a>]</span>sojourn for some time in our plains, a halting-place rich in insects, which form the -exclusive fare of most of them; they ransack every clod in our fields, where the ploughshare -by now has laid bare in the furrows a multitude of grubs, their special delight; thanks -to this diet, they soon put on a fine cushion of fat, a storehouse of reserve provisions -for the coming exertions; and at last, supplied with this viaticum, they continue -their southward flight, making for the winterless lands where insects are never lacking: -Spain, Southern Italy, the Mediterranean islands and Africa. This is the season for -brave sport with the gun and for dainty roasts of small birds. -</p> -<p>The first to arrive is the Shore-lark, or, as he is called in these parts, the <i lang="fr">Crèou</i>. August is hardly here before we see him exploring the pebbly fields, in search of -the little seeds of setaria, an ill weed that overruns our tilled soil. At the least -alarm he flies away with a harsh clattering in his throat which is not badly represented -by his Provençal name. He is soon followed by the Whin-chat, who preys placidly on -small Weevils, Locusts, and Ants in the old lucern-fields. With him begins the long -line of small winged things, the glory of the spit. It is continued, when September -comes, by the most famous of them, the Common <span class="pageNum" id="pb224">[<a href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>Wheat-ear, or White-tail, extolled by all who are able to appreciate his exalted qualities. -No Beccafico of the Roman epicures, immortalized in Martial’s epigrams, ever equalled -the exquisite, scented ball of fat that is the Wheat-ear, grown shamefully stout on -gluttonous living. He is an unbridled devourer of every kind of insect. The notes -which I have taken as a sportsman and naturalist bear witness to the contents of his -gizzard. It includes the whole little world of the fallow fields: grubs and Weevils -of every species, Locusts, Tortoise-beetles, Golden Apple-beetles, Crickets, Earwigs, -Ants, Spiders, Wood-lice, Snails, Millipedes, and ever so many others. And, as a change -from this full-flavoured diet, there are grapes, blackberries and dogberries. Such -is the bill of fare for which the Wheat-ear is ever in search, as he flies from clod -to clod, with the white feathers of his outspread tail giving him that fictitious -look of a Butterfly on the wing. And Heaven knows what prodigies of plumpness he is -able to achieve. -</p> -<p>He has only one master in the art of self-fattening. This is one whose migration synchronizes -with his, one who is likewise an enthusiastic insect-eater: the Bush-pipit, as the -nomenclators so absurdly call him, whereas the dullest of our shepherds never hesitates -to <span class="pageNum" id="pb225">[<a href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>speak of him as the <i lang="fr">Grasset</i>, the champion fat bird. The name in itself fully describes his leading characteristic. -No other achieves such a degree of obesity. A moment comes when, laden with pads of -fat up to its wings, its neck and the back of its head, the bird looks like a little -pat of butter. The poor thing can hardly flutter from one mulberry-tree to the next, -where it stops to pant in the thick leafage, half choked with melting fat, a martyr -to its passion for Weevils. -</p> -<p>October brings us the slender White Wagtail, half pearly grey, half white, with a -large black-velvet chest-protector. The graceful little bird, trotting along and cocking -up its tail, follows the ploughman almost under the horses’ feet and picks the grubs -in the new-turned furrow. About the same time the Skylark arrives, first in little -companies sent out as scouting-parties, next in countless battalions, which take possession -of the cornfields and fallow land, with their plentiful setaria-seeds, the bird’s -usual fare. Then, in the plain, amid the universal glitter of dewdrops and rime-crystals -hanging from every blade of grass, the treacherous mirror shoots forth its intermittent -flashes in the rays of the morning sun; then the little Owl, released by the hunter’s -hand, makes his short flight, alights, starts up again convulsively, <span class="pageNum" id="pb226">[<a href="#pb226">226</a>]</span>rolling frightened eyes; and the Lark arrives, dipping on the wing, curious to obtain -a closer view of the bright apparatus or the grotesque bird. He is there, in front -of you, a dozen yards away, with feet pendant and wings outspread like the Dove in -a sacred picture. Now then: take aim and fire! I wish my readers the excitement of -this fascinating sport. -</p> -<p>With the Skylark, often in the same companies, comes the Titlark, commonly called -the <i>Sisi</i>. Here again an onomatopœia gives us the bird’s little call-note. None goes with greater -fury for the Owl, round whom he manœuvres and hovers constantly. But we will not continue -the list of the birds of passage that visit us. Most of them make but a short halt -here; they stay for a few weeks, attracted by the abundance of food, especially of -insects; then, plump and strong, they pursue their southward journey. Others, fewer -these, take up their winter quarters in our plains, where snow is very rare and where -thousands of little seeds lie exposed on the ground, even in the depth of winter. -One of these is the Skylark, who gives his attention to the corn-fields and fallows; -another is the Titlark, who prefers the lucern-fields and meadows. -</p> -<p>The Skylark, so common in almost every part of France, does not nest in the Vaucluse -plains, <span class="pageNum" id="pb227">[<a href="#pb227">227</a>]</span>where his place is taken by the Crested Lark, that frequenter of the broad highway, -the roadmender’s friend. But one need not go far north to find the favourite spots -for the Skylark’s broods: the next department, the Drôme, is rich in his nests. It -is very probable therefore that, out of the numbers of Skylarks that come to take -possession of our plains for the whole of autumn and winter, there are many that travel -no farther than the Drôme. They have only to migrate to the next department to find -plains free from snow and a steady supply of tiny seeds. A like migration to a short -distance seems to me to have caused the crowd of Ammophilæ which I surprised near -the top of Mont Ventoux. I have shown that this Wasp spends the winter in the perfect -insect state, hidden in some shelter and waiting until April to make her nest. She -also, like the Skylark, must take her precautions against the frosty season. Though -she need not fear the lack of food, being capable of fasting until the return of the -flowers, she must at least, delicate creature that she is, guard against the fatal -attacks of the cold. She will therefore flee snowy country, the districts where the -ground freezes to a great depth; she will assemble in a migratory caravan, after the -manner of the birds, and, crossing hill and dale, will select a home in old walls -and <span class="pageNum" id="pb228">[<a href="#pb228">228</a>]</span>sandy banks warmed by the southern sun. Then, when the cold is past, all or part of -the troop will return to the place whence they came. This would explain the Ventoux -band of Ammophilæ. It was a travelling tribe which, coming from the cold uplands of -the Drôme and descending into the warm plains beloved of the olive-tree, had crossed -the wide, deep valley of the Toulourenc and, when surprised by the rain, had called -a halt on the mountain-ridge. Apparently, therefore, the Hairy Ammophila has to migrate -in order to escape the cold of winter. At the time when the little birds of passage -start their procession of caravans, she too journeys from a colder to a warmer neighbourhood. -She has but to cross a few valleys and a few mountains to find the climate which she -wants. -</p> -<p>I have two other instances of extraordinary gatherings of insects at great heights. -In October I have found the chapel at the summit of Mont Ventoux covered with <i lang="la">Coccinella septempunctata</i>, the Seven-spot Ladybird. The insects clinging to the stone of both the roof and -walls were packed so close together that the rude edifice looked, from a little way -off, like a piece of coral-work. I should not care to guess the myriad numbers of -the Ladybirds collected there. Those Aphis-eaters had certainly not <span class="pageNum" id="pb229">[<a href="#pb229">229</a>]</span>been attracted by the hope of food to the top of the Ventoux, some 6000 feet above -the level of the sea. Vegetation is too scanty up there; and no Plant-louse ever ventured -so high. -</p> -<p>On another occasion, in June, on the tableland of Saint-Amans, a neighbour of the -Ventoux, at a height of 2400 feet, I witnessed a similar gathering, only much less -numerous. At the most prominent part of the plateau, on the edge of a bluff of perpendicular -rocks, stands a cross with a pedestal of hewn stone. On each face of this pedestal -and on the rocks supporting it, the same Beetles, the Seven-spot Ladybirds of the -Ventoux, had gathered in their legions. The insects were mostly stationary; but, wherever -the sun beat at all fiercely, there was a continual exchange between the newcomers, -anxious to find room, and the old occupants of the wayside cross, who took to their -wings only to return after a short flight. -</p> -<p>Nothing here, any more than on the summit of the Ventoux, was able to tell me the -cause of these strange meetings on arid spots, containing no Plant-lice and possessing -no attraction for Ladybirds; nothing suggested the secret of these crowded gatherings -on masonry situated at a great height. Were these again instances of entomological -migration? Were they general musterings, similar to that of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb230">[<a href="#pb230">230</a>]</span>Swallows on the day before their common departure? Were they meeting-places whence -the swarm of Ladybirds was to make for some district richer in edibles? It is possible, -but it is also very extraordinary. The Ladybird has rarely been noted as a devotee -of travel. She seems to us a very stay-at-home creature when we see her butchering -the Green-fly on our rose-trees and the Black-fly on our beans; and yet, with her -short wings, she holds plenary assemblies, in immense numbers, on the summit of Mont -Ventoux, where the Martin himself ascends only at moments of violent energy. Why these -meetings at such altitudes? What can be the reason of this predilection for blocks -of masonry? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb231">[<a href="#pb231">231</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e383">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xiii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE AMMOPHILÆ</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">A slender waist, a slim shape; an abdomen tapering very much at the upper part and -fastened to the body as though by a thread; black raiment with a red sash across the -belly: there you have a summary description of these burrowers, who are akin to the -Sphex in form and colouring, but differ greatly from them in habits. The Sphex hunt -Orthoptera—Locusts, Grasshoppers, Crickets—while caterpillars are the quarry of the -Ammophilæ. This change of prey in itself suggests new methods in the lethal tactics -of instinct. -</p> -<p>If the name did not sound so pleasant to the ear, I would willingly quarrel with the -term Ammophila, which means ‘sand-lover,’ as being too exclusive and often erroneous. -The real lovers of sand, of dry, dusty, streaming sand, are the Bembex, who prey on -Flies; but the caterpillar-hunters, whose story I now propose to relate, have no predilection -for ordinary shifting sand, and even avoid it as being liable to <span class="pageNum" id="pb232">[<a href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>landslips on the slightest provocation. Their perpendicular shaft, which has to remain -open until the cell receives the provisions and an egg, requires a firmer setting -if it is not to be prematurely blocked. What they want is a light soil, easily tunnelled, -in which the sandy element is cemented with a little clay and lime. Edges of paths, -sunny banks where the grass is rather bare: those are the favourite spots. In spring, -quite early in April, we see the Hairy Ammophila (<i lang="la">A. hirsuta</i>) there; when September and October come, we find the Sandy Ammophila (<i lang="la">A. sabulosa</i>), the Silvery Ammophila (<i lang="la">A. argentata</i>), and the Silky Ammophila (<i lang="la">A. holosericea</i>). I will here condense the information which I have gathered from the four species. -</p> -<p>In the case of all four the burrow is a vertical shaft, a sort of well, possessing -at most the diameter of a thick goose-quill and a depth of about two inches. At the -bottom is the cell, which is always solitary and consists of a mere widening of the -entrance-shaft. It is, when all is said, a poor lodging, obtained economically, in -one day’s work; the larva will find no protection there against the winter except -from the four wrappers of its cocoon, copied from that of the Sphex. The Ammophila -digs by herself, quietly, without hurrying, without any joyous enthusiasm. As usual, -the fore-tarsi serve as <span class="pageNum" id="pb233">[<a href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>rakes and the mandibles do duty as mining-tools. When some grain of sand offers too -much resistance to its removal, you hear rising from the bottom of the well, as though -to give voice to the insect’s efforts, a sort of shrill grating sound produced by -the quivering of the wings and of the whole body. At frequent intervals the Wasp appears -in the open with a load of refuse in her teeth, some bit of gravel which she flies -away with and drops at a distance of a few inches, so as not to litter the place. -Of the grains extracted some appear to deserve special attention, owing to their shape -and size; at least, the Ammophila does not treat them as she does the rest: instead -of flying off and dropping them far from the work-yard, she removes them on foot and -lays them near the well. These are picked materials, ready-made blocks of stone which -will serve presently for closing the dwelling. -</p> -<p>This outside work is performed with measured movements and solemn diligence. The insect -stands high on its legs, with its abdomen stretched at the end of its long pedicle, -and turns round slowly, pivoting its whole body stiffly, with the geometrical rigidity -of a line revolving on itself. If it wishes to fling to a distance the rubbish which -it thinks will be in the way, it does so in short silent flights, often <span class="pageNum" id="pb234">[<a href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>backwards, as though the Wasp, emerging from her well head last, avoided turning, -so as to save time. It is the species carrying their abdomens on the longest stalks, -such as the Sandy Ammophila and the Silky Ammophila, which mainly display this automaton-like -rigidity in action. That belly swelling into a pear at the end of a thread is in fact -a very delicate thing to steer: a sudden movement might warp the fine stalk. So we -must walk with a sort of geometrical rigour; if we have to fly, we will do so backwards, -to avoid tacking too often. On the other hand, the Hairy Ammophila, who has a short -abdominal pedicle, works at her burrow with the heedless, nimble movements which we -admire in most of the Digger-wasps. She has more freedom of action, because her belly -does not get in her way. -</p> -<p>The home is dug. At a later hour in the day, or even merely when the sun has left -the place where the burrow has just been bored, the Ammophila invariably visits the -little heap of stones placed in reserve during the excavating, with the object of -choosing a bit to suit her. If there is nothing that satisfies her needs, she explores -the neighbourhood and soon discovers what she wants, a small flat stone slightly larger -in diameter than the mouth of her hole. She carries off this slab in her mandibles -and lays it, <span class="pageNum" id="pb235">[<a href="#pb235">235</a>]</span>as a temporary door, over the opening of the burrow. To-morrow, when the weather is -once more hot and the sun bathes the slopes and encourages hunting, the Wasp will -know quite well how to find her home, rendered inviolable by the massive door; she -will come back with a paralysed caterpillar, grasped by the skin of its neck and dragged -between its captor’s legs; she will lift the slab, which nothing distinguishes from -other little stones around and which she alone is able to identify; she will let down -the game to the bottom of the well, lay her egg, and close the house for good by sweeping -into the perpendicular shaft all the rubbish which she has kept in the vicinity. -</p> -<p>Time after time the Sandy Ammophila and the Silvery Ammophila have shown me this temporary -closing of the hole when the sun begins to go down and when the lateness of the hour -compels the victualling to be put off till the morrow. When the dwelling had been -sealed up by the Wasp, I too would postpone my observations till the next day, but -only after first making a map of the ground, choosing my lines and landmarks and planting -a few stalks as signposts to show me the way to the well when it was filled. If I -did not come back very early in the morning, if I left the Wasp time to take advantage -of the hours of bright <span class="pageNum" id="pb236">[<a href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>sunshine, I invariably found the burrow finally stocked with provisions and closed. -</p> -<p>This faithfulness of memory is striking. The Wasp, delayed in her task, puts off the -rest of her work to the next day. She does not spend the evening, she does not spend -the night in the home which she has just dug: on the contrary, she leaves the premises -altogether and goes away, after concealing the entrance with a little stone. The locality -is not familiar to her; she knows it no better than any other spot, for the Ammophilæ -behave like the Languedocian Sphex and lodge their families here or there, wherever -they happen to roam. The Wasp was there by chance; the soil suited her; she dug her -burrow; and she now goes off. Where to? Who can tell? Perhaps to the flowers not far -away, where, by the last gleams of daylight, she will sip a drop of sugary liquid -at the bottom of the cups, even as our miners, after toiling in their dark galleries, -fly for comfort to the bottle in the evening. She goes off, to a less or greater distance, -stopping at this bin and that in the flowers’ cellar. The evening, the night, the -morning slip by. Still, she must return to the burrow and complete her task, she must -return after the marches and countermarches of the morning hunt and the bewildering -flight from flower to flower during <span class="pageNum" id="pb237">[<a href="#pb237">237</a>]</span>the libations of the evening before. That the Social Wasp should return to her nest -and the Social Bee to her hive does not surprise me at all: the hive and the nest -are permanent residences, the way to which becomes known by long practice; but the -Ammophila has no acquaintance with the locality which could help her to return to -her burrow after such a long absence. Her tunnel is at a spot which she perhaps visited -yesterday for the first time and which she must find again to-morrow, when she is -quite out of her bearings and moreover hampered with a heavy load of game. Nevertheless, -this little feat of topographical memory is performed, sometimes with a precision -that left me astounded. The Wasp would walk straight to her burrow as if she had long -been using all the little paths in the neighbourhood. At other times she would wander -backwards and forwards and renew her search over and over again. -</p> -<p>If the quest is greatly prolonged, the prey, which is a troublesome burden when you -are in a hurry to find your home, is laid down in some high place, on a cluster of -thyme or a tuft of grass, where it will be well in sight presently, when wanted. Thus -eased, the Ammophila resumes her active search. I made a pencil-sketch, as she moved -about, of the tracks <span class="pageNum" id="pb238">[<a href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>followed. The result was a medley of tangled lines, with sudden bends and turns, branches -in and branches out, windings and repeated intersections—in short, a regular labyrinth -whose complicated maze was an ocular demonstration of the perplexity of the lost one. -</p> -<p>When the well has been found and the slab removed, the Wasp has to come back to the -caterpillar, which is not always done without some groping about, in cases where her -wanderings to and fro have been very numerous. Though she left her prey easily visible, -the Wasp appears to foresee the difficulty of finding it again when the moment comes -to drag it home. At least, if the search is unduly prolonged, you see her suddenly -interrupt her exploration of the ground and return to her caterpillar, which she feels -and nibbles at for a moment, as though to make sure that it is really her own game, -her property. Then she hurries back again to the field of search, which she leaves -a second time, if need be, and a third, in order to inspect the prey. I am not at -all sure that these repeated visits of the Wasp to the caterpillar are not a means -of refreshing her memory of the place where she left it. -</p> -<p>This is what happens in exceedingly complicated cases; but as a rule the Wasp goes -back quite easily to the well dug the day before <span class="pageNum" id="pb239">[<a href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>on the spot to which chance has taken her. The vagabond’s guide is her topographical -memory, whose marvellous feats I shall have to tell later. As for me, in order to -return next day to the well hidden under the lid of the little flat stone, I dared -not trust to my unaided memory: I needed notes, sketches, lines of latitude and longitude, -landmarks—in short, all the minutiæ of geometry. -</p> -<p>The temporary closing of the burrow with a flat stone, as practised by the Sandy Ammophila -and the Silvery Ammophila, is apparently unknown to the other two species. At any -rate, I never saw their homes protected by a lid. Besides, this absence of a provisional -door seems to be obligatory upon the Hairy Ammophila. In fact, as far as I could see, -this species hunts its prey first and then digs its burrow near the place of capture. -In this way the storing of the provisions can be done straight away; and there is -no need to trouble about a lid. As for the Silky Ammophila, I suspect that she has -another reason for not employing a temporary cover. Whereas the three others put only -one caterpillar in each burrow, she puts in as many as five, though much smaller ones. -Just as we ourselves neglect to shut a door through which we are constantly passing, -so perhaps the Silky Ammophila neglects the precaution of placing a <span class="pageNum" id="pb240">[<a href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>stone over a well down which she has to go at least five times in a short space of -time. -</p> -<p>In the case of all four, the provisions of the larvæ consist of caterpillars of Moths. -The Silky Ammophila selects, though not exclusively, those long, thin caterpillars -which walk by looping and unlooping their bodies. Their gait suggests a pair of compasses -that makes its way by opening and closing in turns. Hence they are known by two expressive -names: Loopers and Measuring-worms.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2080src" href="#xd31e2080">1</a> The same burrow contains provisions varying greatly in colour, a proof that the Ammophila -hunts without distinction every species of Loopers, provided that they be small, for -the huntress herself is anything but large and her grub cannot get through very much, -in spite of the five pieces of game set before her. If Loopers fail, the Wasp falls -back on other equally slender caterpillars. Curved into a hoop as the result of the -sting that paralysed them, the five pieces are stacked up in the cell: the uppermost -carries the egg for which the provisions are made. -</p> -<p>The three other Ammophilæ give only one caterpillar to each larva. It is true that -here bulk makes up for number: the game selected <span class="pageNum" id="pb241">[<a href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>is big, plump, capable of amply satisfying the grub’s appetite. For instance, I have -taken from the mandibles of the Sandy Ammophila a caterpillar weighing fifteen times -as much as its captor: fifteen times, an enormous figure when we consider the strength -which the huntress must expend in dragging game of this kind by the skin of the neck -over the countless obstacles on the road. No other Wasp, tried in the balance with -her prey, has shown me a like disproportion between spoiler and booty. -</p> -<p>The almost indefinite variety of colouring in the provisions which I unearth from -the burrows or see between the legs of the Ammophilæ also proves that the three brigands -have no preference and pounce upon the first caterpillar which comes along, provided -that it be of a suitable size, neither too large nor too small, and that it belongs -to the Moth division. The commonest game consists of those grey-clad caterpillars -which penetrate a little way into the ground and devour the plant at the junction -of root and stem. -</p> -<p>What governs the whole history of the Ammophilæ and more particularly attracted my -attention is the manner in which the insect overpowers its prey and reduces it to -the condition of helplessness which the safety of the larva requires. The game hunted, -the caterpillar, <span class="pageNum" id="pb242">[<a href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>possesses a very different structure from that of the victims which we have seen immolated -hitherto: Buprestes, Weevils, Locusts and Ephippigers. The creature is composed of -a series of similar rings or segments set end to end. Three of these segments, the -first three, carry the real legs, which will become the legs of the future Moth; others -have membranous legs, or pro-legs, which are peculiar to the caterpillar and not represented -in the Moth; others, lastly, have no limbs at all. Each segment has its nerve-nucleus, -or ganglion, the seat of sensibility and movement, so that the nervous system includes -twelve distinct centres, separated one from the other, without counting the ganglionic -neck-piece placed under the skull and comparable, in a manner of speaking, with the -brain. -</p> -<p>We are here very far removed from the nerve-centralization of the Weevils and the -Buprestes, which lends itself so well to general paralysis by a single prick of the -sting; we are also a long way from the thoracic ganglia which the Sphex smites, one -after the other, to suppress all movement in her Crickets. Instead of a solitary centralized -point or of three nerve-nuclei, the caterpillar has twelve, separated from one another -by the distance between one segment and the next and arranged like a string of beads -on the ventral surface, along the <span class="pageNum" id="pb243">[<a href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>median line of the body. Moreover, as is the general rule in the lower animals, where -the same organ is repeated a great number of times and loses power by its diffusion, -these different nerve-centres are largely independent of one another: each of them -exercises its influence over its particular segment; and its functions are only very -gradually affected by the derangement of the adjoining segments. One of the caterpillar’s -rings can lose its power of moving and feeling and the remainder will nevertheless -remain capable of both for a considerable time. These facts are enough to show the -great interest attaching to the methods of slaughter which the Wasp adopts with her -prey. -</p> -<p>But, while the interest is great, the difficulty of observation is not small. The -solitary habits of the Ammophilæ, their distribution one by one over wide areas, the -fact that one almost always comes across them merely by chance: all this makes it -hardly possible to carry out premeditated experiments with them, anymore than with -the Languedocian Sphex. You have to be on the look-out a long time for an opportunity, -to wait for it with untiring patience, and to know how to profit by it at the very -moment when at last it presents itself, a moment when you were not thinking of it. -I watched for that opportunity for years and <span class="pageNum" id="pb244">[<a href="#pb244">244</a>]</span>years; then one day it suddenly appeared before my eyes, offering a facility of examination -and a clearness of detail that compensated me for my long waiting. -</p> -<p>At the beginning of my investigations I was twice enabled to witness the murder of -the caterpillar, and I saw, as far as the swiftness of the operation permitted, the -Wasp’s sting applied once and for all to either the fifth or the sixth segment of -the victim. To confirm this result, I thought of ascertaining which ring had been -stabbed on caterpillars which I had not seen sacrificed, but which I had taken from -their captors while they were being dragged to the burrow. It was no use employing -a magnifying-glass, for no magnifying-glass enables one to discover the least trace -of a wound upon the victim. The method adopted is the following: when the caterpillar -is quite still, I try each segment with the point of a fine needle and thus measure -the amount of sensibility by the more or less manifest signs of pain in the insect. -When the needle pricks the fifth segment or the sixth, even piercing it right through, -the caterpillar does not stir. But if you prick even slightly a second segment, behind -or in front of that insensible segment, the caterpillar wriggles and struggles with -a violence which increases in proportion to the distance of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb245">[<a href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>point attacked from the original segment. At the hinder end in particular, the least -touch provokes wild contortions. There was only one sting, therefore, and it was administered -to the fifth or sixth ring. -</p> -<p>What peculiarity then do these two segments possess that one or other of them should -be the target of the assassin’s weapon? None whatever in their organization; but their -position is another matter. Leaving the Silky Ammophila’s Measuring-worms on one side, -I find that the prey of the others is organized as follows, the head being counted -as the first segment: three pairs of real legs on the second, third and fourth rings; -four pairs of membranous legs on the seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth rings; lastly, -a final pair of membranous legs on the thirteenth and last ring, making in all eight -pairs of legs, of which the first seven form two vigorous groups, one of three, the -other of four pairs. These two groups are separated by two legless segments, which -are precisely the fifth and sixth. -</p> -<p>Now, in order to deprive the caterpillar of its means of escape, to render it motionless, -will the Wasp drive her sting into each of the eight rings provided with locomotory -organs? Above all, will she take this superfluity of precaution when the prey is quite -weak and <span class="pageNum" id="pb246">[<a href="#pb246">246</a>]</span>small? Certainly not: a single stab will be enough; but it will be given at a central -point, whence the torpor produced by the tiny drop of poison can spread gradually, -with the least possible delay, to the segments furnished with legs. There is no doubt -about the segment to be picked out for this single inoculation: it must be the fifth -or the sixth, which separate the two groups of locomotory rings. The point indicated -by rational inferences is therefore also the point adopted by instinct. -</p> -<p>Lastly, let us add that the Ammophila’s egg is invariably laid on the ring that has -been rendered insensible. Here and here alone the young larva can bite without provoking -dangerous contortions; where a needle-prick has no effect, the grub’s bite will have -no effect either. The grub will thus remain motionless until the nurseling has gained -strength and can forge ahead without running a risk. -</p> -<p>In my later researches, as the number of my observations increased, I began to entertain -doubts, not as to the conclusions which I had formed, but as to their general application. -That feeble Loopers and other small caterpillars are rendered harmless by a single -thrust, especially when the sting strikes the favourable spot described, is a thing -quite probable in itself and one which can also be proved either <span class="pageNum" id="pb247">[<a href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>by direct observation or by testing the insect’s sensibility with a needle. But the -Sandy Ammophila and especially the Hairy Ammophila capture enormous victims, whose -weight, as I have said, is fifteen times that of the kidnapper. Will this giant prey -be treated in the same manner as the frail Measuring-worm? Will one dagger-thrust -be sufficient to subdue the monster and render it incapable of doing harm? Will the -horrid Grey Worm, lashing the walls of the cell with its powerful tail, not endanger -either the egg or the little grub? We dare not picture the encounter, in the narrow -cell of the burrow, between those two—the feeble, new-hatched creature and that dragony -thing still possessing freedom in its movements to twist and untwist its tortuous -coils. -</p> -<p>My suspicions were confirmed by an examination of the caterpillar from the point of -view of sensibility. Whereas the small game of the Silky Ammophila and the Silvery -Ammophila struggle violently if the needle touches them elsewhere than in the ring -stung by the Wasp, the big caterpillars of the Sandy Ammophila and especially of the -Hairy Ammophila remain motionless, no matter which segment we prick. With them there -are no contortions, no sudden twists of the hinder parts; the steel point produces -no sign of a remnant of sensibility <span class="pageNum" id="pb248">[<a href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>beyond a faint quivering of the skin. The power of moving and feeling is therefore -almost wholly abolished, as it needs must be if the grub is to feed in safety on this -monstrous prey. Before placing it in the burrow, the Wasp has turned it into an inert -though still living mass. -</p> -<p>I have been permitted to watch the Ammophila operating with her scalpel on the sturdy -caterpillar, and never did the intuitive science of instinct show me anything more -exciting. With a friend—soon, alas, to be snatched from me by death!—I was coming -back from the plateau of Les Angles to lay snares for the Sacred Beetle and put his -skill to the test, when we caught sight of a Hairy Ammophila very busily employed -at the foot of a tuft of thyme. We at once lay down on the ground, close to where -she was working. Our presence did not frighten the Wasp; in fact, she came and settled -on my sleeve for a moment, decided that her two visitors were harmless, since they -did not move, and returned to her tuft of thyme. As an old stager, I knew what that -daring familiarity meant: the Wasp’s attention was occupied with a serious business. -We would wait and see. -</p> -<p>The Ammophila scratched the ground at the foot of the plant, at the junction of root -and <span class="pageNum" id="pb249">[<a href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>stem, pulled up slender grass rootlets and poked her head under the little clods which -she had lifted. She ran hurriedly this way and that around the thyme, inspecting every -crevice that could give access to what lay below. She was not digging herself a home -but hunting some game hidden underground; this was evident from her behaviour, which -resembled that of a Dog trying to dig a Rabbit out of his hole. Presently, excited -by what was happening overhead and close-pressed by the Ammophila, a big Grey Worm -made up his mind to leave his lair and come up to the light of day. That settled him; -the huntress was on the spot at once, gripping him by the skin of his neck and holding -tight in spite of his contortions. Perched on the monster’s back, the Wasp bent her -abdomen and deliberately, without hurrying, like a surgeon thoroughly acquainted with -his patient’s anatomy, drove her lancet into the ventral surface of each of the victim’s -segments, from the first to the last. Not a ring was left without receiving a stab; -all, whether with legs or without, were dealt with in order, from front to back. -</p> -<p>That is what I saw with all the leisure and ease that an observation needs in order -to be above reproach. The Wasp acts with a precision that would make science turn -green with <span class="pageNum" id="pb250">[<a href="#pb250">250</a>]</span>envy; she knows what man hardly ever knows; she knows her victim’s complex nervous -system and reserves her successive dagger-thrusts for the successive ganglia of her -caterpillar. I said, she knows; what I should say is, she behaves as though she knew. -Her act is simple inspiration. Animals obey their compelling instinct, without realizing -what they do. But whence comes that sublime inspiration? Can theories of atavism, -of natural selection, of the struggle for life interpret it reasonably? To me and -my friend, this was and remained one of the most eloquent revelations of the unutterable -logic that rules the world and guides the ignorant by the laws of its inspiration. -Stirred to our innermost being by this flash of truth, both of us felt tears of undefinable -emotion spring to our eyes. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb251">[<a href="#pb251">251</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2080"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2080src">1</a></span> The caterpillars of the Geometræ, or Geometrid Moths, are called also Inchworms, Spanworms -and Surveyors.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2080src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e391">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xiv</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE BEMBEX</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">One of my favourite spots for the observations which I will now describe is not far -from Avignon, on the right bank of the Rhône, opposite the mouth of the Durance. It -is the Bois des Issarts. Let not the reader mistake the value of this word <i lang="fr">bois</i>, which usually suggests a carpet of cool moss and the shade of tall trees, with a -dim light filtering through the leaves. The scorched plains where the Cicada grates -out his ditty on the pale olive-tree know none of these delicious retreats filled -with cool shadow. -</p> -<p>The Bois des Issarts is a coppice of holm-oaks no higher than one’s head and sparingly -distributed in scanty clumps which, even at their feet, hardly temper the force of -the sun’s rays. When I used to settle myself in some part of the coppice suitable -for my observations, on certain afternoons in the dog-days of July and August, I had -the shelter of a large umbrella, which later, in the most unexpected fashion, lent -me <span class="pageNum" id="pb252">[<a href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>a very precious aid of a different kind, as my story will show in good time. If I -neglected to furnish myself with this embarrassing adjunct to a long walk, my only -resource against sunstroke was to lie down at full length behind some sandy knoll; -and, when the veins in my temples were throbbing to bursting point, my last hope lay -in putting my head down a Rabbit-burrow. Such are one’s means of keeping cool in the -Bois des Issarts. -</p> -<p>The soil not occupied by those clumps of woody vegetation is almost bare and consists -of fine, dry, very loose sand, which the wind heaps into little dunes wherever the -stems and roots of the holm-oak interfere with its dissemination. The sides of these -sand-dunes are generally very smooth, because of the extreme lightness of the materials, -which slide down into the smallest depression and of their own accord restore the -evenness of the surface. You need but push your finger into the sand and take it out -again to bring about an immediate landslip which fills up the hole and restores things -to their original condition without leaving a visible trace. But, at a certain depth, -which varies according to the more or less recent date of the last rains, the sand -retains a lingering dampness which keeps it in its place and gives it a consistency -that enables it to have small excavations <span class="pageNum" id="pb253">[<a href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>made in it without a subsequent collapse of walls and roof. A blazing sun, a gloriously -blue sky, sandy slopes that yield without the least difficulty to the strokes of the -Wasp’s rake, game galore for the grub’s food, a peaceful site hardly ever disturbed -by the foot of man: all the good things are combined in this Bembex paradise. Let -us watch the industrious insect at work. -</p> -<p>If the reader will sit with me under the umbrella, or consent to share my Rabbit-burrow, -this is the sight which he is invited to behold, at the end of July: a Bembex (<i lang="la">B. rostrata</i>) arrives suddenly, I know not whence, and alights, without preliminary investigations -or the least hesitation, at a spot which to my eyes differs in no respect from the -rest of the sandy surface. With her fore-tarsi, which are armed with rows of stiff -hairs and suggest at the same time a broom, a brush and a rake, she works at clearing -her subterranean dwelling. The insect stands on its four hind-legs, holding the two -at the back a little wide apart, while the front ones alternately scratch and sweep -the shifting sand. The precision and quickness of the performance could not be greater -if the circular movement of the tarsi were worked by a spring. The sand, shot backwards -under the abdomen, passes through the arch of the hind-legs, gushes like a <span class="pageNum" id="pb254">[<a href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>fluid in a continuous stream, describes its parabola and falls to the ground some -seven or eight inches away. This spray of dust, kept up evenly for five or ten minutes -at a time, is enough to show the dazzling rapidity of the tools employed. I know no -other example of this swiftness, which nevertheless in no way detracts from the easy -grace and the free movement of the insect, as it advances and retires first on this -side, then on that, without discontinuing its parabolic streams of sand. -</p> -<p>The soil excavated is of the lightest kind. As the Wasp digs, the sand near by slips -back and fills the cavity. Amongst the rubbish that falls are tiny bits of wood, decayed -leaf-stalks and particles of grit larger than the rest. The Bembex takes them up in -her mandibles and carries them away, moving backwards as she goes; then she returns -to her sweeping, but never going to any length and making no attempt to bury herself -underground. What is her object in thus labouring entirely on the surface? It would -be impossible to tell from this first glance; but, after spending many days with my -beloved Wasps and grouping together the scattered facts resulting from my observations, -I seem to catch a glimpse of the reason for the present proceedings. -</p> -<p>The Wasp’s nest is certainly there, a few <span class="pageNum" id="pb255">[<a href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>inches below the ground; in a little cell dug in the cool, firm sand lies an egg, -perhaps a grub for which the mother caters from day to day, bringing it Flies, the -unvarying food of the Bembex in their first state. The mother has to be able at any -moment to enter the nest, as she flies up carrying in her legs the nurseling’s daily -portion of game, even as the bird of prey enters its eyrie with the food for its young -in its talons. But, while the bird returns to a home on some inaccessible ledge of -rock, with no difficulty to overcome but that of the weight and encumbrance of the -captured prey, the Bembex has each time to undertake rough miner’s work and open up -anew a gallery blocked and closed by the mere fact that the sand gives way as the -insect proceeds. In that underground dwelling, the only room with steady walls is -the spacious cell where the larva lives amid the remnants of its fortnight’s feast; -the narrow corridor which the mother enters to reach the flat at the back or to come -out and go hunting collapses each time, at least in the front part dug out of very -dry sand, which repeated exits and entrances make looser still. Each time therefore -that the Wasp goes in or out, she has to clear herself a passage through the débris. -</p> -<p>Going out presents no difficulty, even should <span class="pageNum" id="pb256">[<a href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>the sand retain the consistency which it might have at the start, when first disturbed: -the insect’s movements are free, it is safe under cover, it can take its time and -use its tarsi and mandibles without undue hurry. Going in is a very different matter. -The Bembex is hampered by her prey, which her legs hold clasped to her body; and the -miner is thus deprived of the free use of her tools. And a still graver circumstance -is this: brazen parasites, veritable bandits in ambush, crouch here and there in the -neighbourhood of the burrow, spying on the mother Wasp as she makes her laborious -entrance, so that they may rush in and lay their egg on the piece of game at the very -moment when it is about to disappear down the corridor. If they succeed, the Wasp’s -nurseling, the son of the house, will perish, starved by its gluttonous fellow-boarders. -</p> -<p>The Bembex seems aware of these dangers and makes arrangements for her entrance to -be effected swiftly, without serious obstacles—in short, for the sand blocking the -door to yield to a mere push of her head, aided by a brisk sweep of her front tarsi. -With this object, the material at the approaches to the home are subjected to a sort -of sifting. At leisure moments, under a kindly sun, when the larva has its food and -does not need her attentions, the mother rakes the <span class="pageNum" id="pb257">[<a href="#pb257">257</a>]</span>ground in front of her door; she removes little bits of wood, any extra-large particles -of gravel, any leaves that might get in the way and bar her passage at the dangerous -moment of her return. The Bembex whom we have just seen so zealously employed was -busy at this work of sifting: to facilitate the access to her home, the materials -of the corridor have to be dug up, carefully sorted and rid of anything likely to -obstruct the road. Who indeed can tell whether, by that nimble eagerness, that joyous -activity, the insect is not expressing in its own way its maternal satisfaction, its -happiness in watching over the roof of the cell to which the precious egg has been -entrusted? -</p> -<p>As the Wasp is confining herself to her duties outside the house, without trying to -penetrate into the sand, everything must be in order inside and there is no hurry -about anything. We should only wait in vain: the insect would tell us nothing more -for the time being. Let us therefore examine the underground dwelling. If we scrape -the dune lightly with the blade of a knife at the point where the Bembex was busiest, -we soon discover the entrance-corridor, which, though blocked for part of the way -down, is nevertheless recognizable by the distinctive appearance of the materials -moved. This passage, which is as <span class="pageNum" id="pb258">[<a href="#pb258">258</a>]</span>wide as one’s finger and straight or winding, longer or shorter according to the nature -and the accidents of the ground, measures eight to twelve inches. It leads to a single -chamber, hollowed in the damp sand, whose walls are not coated with any kind of mortar -likely to prevent a subsidence or to lend a polish to the rough surface. The ceiling -will do, if it can hold out while the larva is growing up; it does not matter what -falls in afterwards, when the larva is enclosed in its stout cocoon, a sort of safe -which we shall see it building. The workmanship of the cell, therefore, is very rustic: -the whole thing is reduced to a rough excavation, of no definite shape, with a low -roof and space enough to contain two or three walnuts. -</p> -<p>In this retreat lies a piece of game, one only, quite small and quite insufficient -for the greedy nurseling which it is meant to feed. It is a golden-green Fly, a Green-bottle -(<i lang="la">Lucilia Cæsar</i>),<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2177src" href="#xd31e2177">1</a> who lives on putrid flesh. The Fly served up as food is absolutely motionless. Is -she quite dead, or only paralysed? This question will be cleared up later. For the -moment we will note the presence, on the side of the game, of a cylindrical egg, white, -very slightly curved and <span class="pageNum" id="pb259">[<a href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>a couple of millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2185src" href="#xd31e2185">2</a> long. It is the egg of the Bembex. As we expected from the mother’s behaviour, there -is nothing urgent indoors: the egg is laid and provided with a first ration apportioned -to the requirements of the feeble grub which will hatch twenty-four hours hence. The -Bembex had no need to re-enter the underground passage for some time and was confining -herself to keeping a good look-out all round, or perhaps to digging fresh burrows -and continuing to lay her eggs, one by one, each in a cell to itself. -</p> -<p>This peculiarity of beginning the provisioning with a single head of small game is -not confined to the Rostrate Bembex. All the other species do the same thing. If we -open the cell of any Bembex shortly after the egg is laid, we shall always find the -tiny cylinder glued to the side of a Fly, who constitutes the entire provision; moreover, -this initial ration is invariably small, as though the mother went in search of the -tenderest mouthfuls for the feeble nurseling. Besides, another reason, the abiding -freshness of the food, might easily prompt her to make this choice. We will look into -that later. This first portion, always a scanty one, varies greatly in nature, according -to the frequency of this or that kind of game in the neighbourhood of <span class="pageNum" id="pb260">[<a href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>the nest. It is sometimes a Green-bottle, sometimes a Stomoxys, or some small Eristalis, -sometimes a dainty Bee-fly clad in black velvet; but the most usual dish is a slim-bellied -Sphærophoria. -</p> -<p>This general fact, to which there is no exception, of the victualling of the egg with -a single Fly, a ration infinitely too small for a larva blessed with a voracious appetite, -at once puts us on the track of the most remarkable habit of the Bembex. Wasps whose -larvæ live on prey heap up in each cell the number of victims necessary for the rearing -of the grub; they lay the egg on one of the bodies and close the dwelling, which they -do not enter again. From that moment the larva hatches and develops alone, having -before it from the very beginning the whole stock of provisions which it is to consume. -The Bembex form an exception to this rule. The cell is first stocked with a single -head of game, always small in size, and the egg is laid on it. When that is done, -the mother leaves the burrow, which closes of itself; besides, before going away, -the insect is careful to rake over the outside, so as to smooth the surface and hide -the entrance from any eye but her own. -</p> -<p>Two or three days elapse; the egg hatches and the little larva eats up the choice -ration <span class="pageNum" id="pb261">[<a href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>served to it. Meanwhile the mother remains in the neighbourhood and you see her sometimes -feeding herself by sipping the sugary exudations of the field eringo, sometimes settling -happily on the burning sand, no doubt watching the outside of the house. Every now -and again she sifts the sand at the entrance; then she flies away and disappears, -perhaps to dig other cells elsewhere and to stock them in the same way. But, however -long she may stay away, she never forgets the young larva so scantily provided for; -the instinct of a mother tells her the hour when the grub has finished its food and -is calling for fresh nourishment. She therefore returns to the nest, of which she -is wonderfully capable of discovering the invisible entrance; she goes down into the -earth, this time carrying a bulkier piece of game. After depositing her prey, she -again leaves the house and waits outside till the moment arrives to serve a third -course. This moment is not slow in coming, for the larva devours its food with a lusty -appetite. Again the mother appears with fresh provisions. -</p> -<p>During nearly a fortnight, while the larva is growing up, the meals thus follow in -succession, one by one, as needed, and coming closer together as the nurseling waxes -bigger. Towards the end of the fortnight it takes all the <span class="pageNum" id="pb262">[<a href="#pb262">262</a>]</span>mother’s activity to satisfy the appetite of the glutton, who crawls heavily along -with his great lumbering belly, amid the scorned leavings: rejected wings and legs -and horny abdominal segments. You see her at every moment returning with a recent -capture, at every moment setting out again upon the chase. In short, the Bembex brings -up her family from day to day, without storing up provisions in advance, just as the -bird does, which feeds its nestlings from hand to mouth. Of the many proofs that are -evidence of this method of upbringing, a very singular method for a Wasp who feeds -her offspring on prey, I have already mentioned the presence of the egg in a cell -containing no provisions but one small Fly, never more. And here is another one, which -can be verified at any time. -</p> -<p>Let us look into the burrow of a Wasp who stocks her grubs’ provisions in advance: -if we select the moment when the insect is going in with its prey, we shall find in -the cell a certain number of victims, the commencement of a larder, but never at that -time a grub, nor even an egg, for this is not laid until the provisions are quite -complete. When the egg is laid, the cell is closed and the mother does not return -to it. It is therefore only in burrows where the mother’s visits are no longer necessary -that we <span class="pageNum" id="pb263">[<a href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>can find larvæ side by side with larger or smaller stocks of food. On the other hand, -let us inspect the home of a Bembex at the moment when she is entering with the fruits -of her hunting. We are certain of finding in the cell a larva, big or little as the -case may be, among remnants of provisions already consumed. The portion which the -mother is now bringing is therefore intended to prolong a meal which has already lasted -several days and which is to continue for some time further with the produce of future -hunting expeditions. Should we be fortunate enough to make this search towards the -end of the larva’s infancy—an advantage which I have enjoyed as often as I wished -to—we shall find, on a copious heap of remnants, a large and portly grub, to which -the mother is still bringing fresh victuals. The Bembex does not cease her catering -and does not leave the cell for good until the larva, distended by a purply paste, -refuses its food and lies down, stuffed to repletion, on the jumble of legs and wings -of the game which it has devoured. -</p> -<p>Each time that the mother enters the burrow on returning from the chase, she brings -but a single Fly. If it were possible, by counting the remnants contained in a cell -whose occupant is full-grown, to tell the number of victims supplied to the larva, -we should know how often at the <span class="pageNum" id="pb264">[<a href="#pb264">264</a>]</span>least the Wasp visited her burrow after laying the egg. Unfortunately, these broken -victuals, chewed and chewed again at moments of scarcity, are for the most part unrecognizable. -But, if we open a cell with a less forward nurseling, the provisions lend themselves -to examination, some of them being still whole or nearly whole, while others, more -numerous, are represented by fragments in a state of preservation that enables them -to be identified. Incomplete though it be, the list obtained under these conditions -is surprising and shows what activity the Wasp must display to satisfy the needs of -such a table. I will set forth one of the bills of fare which I have observed. -</p> -<p>At the end of September, around the larva of a Jules’ Bembex (<i lang="la">Bembex Julii</i>),<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2215src" href="#xd31e2215">3</a> which has reached almost a third of the size which it will finally attain, I find -the following heads of game: six <i lang="la">Echinomyia rubescens</i> (two whole and four in pieces); four <i lang="la">Syrphus corollæ</i> (two complete, the other two broken up); three <i lang="la">Gonia atra</i> (all three untouched: one of them had that moment been brought along by the mother, -which led to my discovering the burrow); two <i lang="la">Pollenia rufescens</i> (one untouched, the other partly eaten); one Bombylius <span class="pageNum" id="pb265">[<a href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>(reduced to pulp); two <i lang="la">Echinomyia intermedia</i> (in bits); and two <i lang="la">Pollenia floralis</i> (likewise in bits): twenty pieces in all. This certainly makes a both plentiful and -varied bill of fare; but, as the larva was only a third of its ultimate size, the -complete menu might easily number as many as sixty items. -</p> -<p>It is not at all difficult to verify this sumptuous figure: I will myself take the -place of the Bembex in her maternal functions and supply the larva with food till -it is ready to burst. I move the cell into a little cardboard box which I furnish -with a layer of sand. I place the larva on this bed, with all due consideration for -its delicate skin. Around it, without omitting a single fragment, I arrange the provisions -with which it was supplied. Then I go home, still holding the box in my hand, to avoid -any shaking which might turn the house upside down and endanger my charge during a -walk of several miles. Any one who had met me on the dusty Nîmes Road, dropping with -fatigue and religiously carrying in my hand, as the sole fruit of my laborious trip, -an ugly grub battening on a heap of Flies, would certainly have smiled at my simplicity. -</p> -<p>The journey was effected without damage: when I reached home, the larva was placidly -eating its Flies as though nothing had happened. <span class="pageNum" id="pb266">[<a href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>On the third day of captivity the provisions taken from the burrow were finished; -the grub was rummaging with its pointed mouth among the heap of remains without finding -anything to suit it; the dry particles taken hold of, all horny, juiceless bits, were -rejected with disgust. The moment has come for me to continue the food supply. The -first Flies within reach shall form my prisoner’s diet. I kill them by pressing them -in my fingers, but without crushing them. The first ration consists of three <i lang="la">Eristalis tenax</i> and one <i lang="la">Sarcophaga</i>.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2251src" href="#xd31e2251">4</a> This is all gobbled up in twenty-four hours. Next day I provide two Eristales, or -Drone-flies, and four House-flies. It was enough for the day, but left nothing over. -I went on like this for eight days, giving the grub a larger portion every morning. -On the ninth day the larva refused all food and began to spin its cocoon. The full -record of this eight days’ feast amounts to sixty-two pieces, composed mainly of Drone-flies -and House-flies, which, added to the twenty items found whole or in pieces in the -cell, brings up the total to eighty-two. -</p> -<p>It is possible that I did not rear my larva with the wholesome frugality and the wise -<span class="pageNum" id="pb267">[<a href="#pb267">267</a>]</span>economy which the mother would have shown; there was perhaps some waste in the daily -provisions served all at one time and left entirely to the grub’s discretion. In some -respects I feel inclined to believe that things do not happen just like that in the -maternal cell, for my notes contain such details as the following. In the alluvial -sands of the Durance I discover a burrow which the Wasp (<i lang="la">Bembex oculata</i>) has just entered with a <i lang="la">Sarcophaga agricola</i>. Inside I find a larva, numerous fragments and a few whole Flies, namely, four <i lang="la">Sphærophoria scripta</i>, one <i lang="la">Onesia viarum</i> and two <i lang="la">Sarcophaga agricola</i>, including the one which the Bembex has just brought along before my eyes. Now it -is worthy of remark that half of this game, namely, the Sphærophoriæ, is right at -the end of the cell, under the larva’s very teeth, whereas the other half is still -in the passage, on the threshold of the cell, and therefore beyond the reach of the -grub, which is unable to change its position. It seems to me then that, when game -is plentiful, the mother lays her captures on the threshold of the cell for the time -and forms a reserve on which she draws as and when necessary, especially on rainy -days when all labour is at a standstill. -</p> -<p>Thus practised with economy, the distribution of food would save a waste which I was -not <span class="pageNum" id="pb268">[<a href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>able to prevent with my larva, treated I dare say too sumptuously. I therefore lower -the figure obtained and reduce it to some sixty pieces, of middling size, between -that of the House-fly and of the <i lang="la">Eristalis tenax</i>. This would about represent the number of Flies supplied by the mother to the larva -when the prey is of a moderate size, as is the case with all the Bembex of my district -except the Rostrate Bembex (<i lang="la">B. rostrata</i>) and the Two-pronged Bembex (<i lang="la">B. bidentata</i>), who have a preference for Gad-flies. With them, the number of victims would be -from one to two dozen, according to the size of the Fly, which varies greatly in the -different species of Gad-flies. -</p> -<p>To avoid reopening this question of the nature of the provisions, I will here give -a list of the Flies observed in the burrows of the six species of Bembex that form -the subject of this essay. -</p> -<p>1. <i lang="la">Bembex olivacea</i>, <span class="sc">Rossi</span>. I only once saw this species, at Cavaillon, feeding on Green-bottles. The five other -species are common in the Avignon neighbourhood. -</p> -<p>2. <i lang="la">Bembex oculata</i>, <span class="sc">Jur.</span> The Fly carrying the egg is most often a Sphærophoria, especially <i lang="la">S. scripta</i>; sometimes it is a <i lang="la">Geron gibbosus</i>. The later provisions include <i lang="la">Stomoxys calcitrans</i>, <i lang="la">Pollenia ruficollis</i>, <i lang="la">P. rudis</i>, <i lang="la">Pipiza nigripes</i>, <span class="pageNum" id="pb269">[<a href="#pb269">269</a>]</span><i lang="la">Syrphus corollæ</i>, <i lang="la">Onesia viarum</i>, <i lang="la">Calliphora vomitoria</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2338src" href="#xd31e2338">5</a> <i lang="la">Echinomyia intermedia</i>, <i lang="la">Sarcophaga agricola</i> and <i lang="la">Musca domestica</i>.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2351src" href="#xd31e2351">6</a> The usual fare consists of <i lang="la">Stomoxys calcitrans</i>, of which I have many a time found fifty or sixty in a single burrow. -</p> -<p>3. <i lang="la">Bembex tarsata</i>, <span class="sc">Lat.</span> This one also lays her egg on <i lang="la">Sphærophoria scripta</i>. She next hunts: <i lang="la">Anthrax flava</i>, <i lang="la">Bombylius nitidulus</i>, <i lang="la">Eristalis æneus</i>, <i lang="la">E. sepulchralis</i>, <i lang="la">Merodon spinipes</i>, <i lang="la">Syrphus corollæ</i>, <i lang="la">Helophilus trivittatus</i> and <i lang="la">Zodion notatum</i>. Her favourite game consists of Bombylii, or Bee-flies, and Anthrax-flies.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2396src" href="#xd31e2396">7</a> -</p> -<p>4. <i lang="la">Bembex Julii</i> (<i lang="la">sp. nov.</i>). The egg is laid on a Sphærophoria or on a <i lang="la">Pollenia floralis</i>. The provisions are a hotchpotch of <i lang="la">Syrphus corollæ</i>, <i lang="la">Echinomyia rubescens</i>, <i lang="la">E. intermedia</i>, <i lang="la">Gonia atra</i>, <i lang="la">Pollenia floralis</i>, <i lang="la">P. ruficollis</i>, <i lang="la">Clytia pellucens</i>, <i lang="la">Lucilia Cæsar</i>, <i lang="la">Dexia rustica</i> and <i lang="la">Bombylius</i>. -</p> -<p>5. <i lang="la">Bembex rostrata</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span> This is preeminently a consumer of Gad-flies. She lays her egg on a <i lang="la">Syrphus corollæ</i> or a <i lang="la">Lucilia Cæsar</i>, after which she feeds her larva exclusively on big game belonging to the various -species of the genus <i lang="la">Tabanus</i>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb270">[<a href="#pb270">270</a>]</span></p> -<p>6. <i lang="la">Bembex bidentata</i>, V. L. Another ardent huntress of Gad-flies. I have never seen her pursue other game -and I do not know on what Fly the egg is laid. -</p> -<p>This great variety of provisions shows that the Bembex have no exclusive tastes and -fall upon any species of Flies, indifferently, which the hazards of the chase place -within their reach. They seem nevertheless to entertain a few preferences. Thus one -species feeds more particularly on Bee-flies, a second on Stomoxys-flies, a third -and a fourth on Gad-flies. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb271">[<a href="#pb271">271</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2177"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2177src">1</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. ix.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2177src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2185"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2185src">2</a></span> About ·08 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2185src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2215"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2215src">3</a></span> For a description of this new species, see the Appendix to the present volume.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2215src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2251"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2251src">4</a></span> Or Flesh-fly. Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2251src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2338"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2338src">5</a></span> The Bluebottle.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2338src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2351"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2351src">6</a></span> The Common House-fly.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2351src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2396"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2396src">7</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chaps. ii. and iv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2396src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e400">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xv</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE FLY-HUNT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">After our list, in the last chapter, of the fare on which the Bembex feed in the larval -form, it behoves us to seek the motive that induces these Wasps to adopt a method -of victualling so exceptional among the digger-insects. Why, instead of previously -storing a sufficient quantity of provisions on which the egg could be laid—which would -enable the mother to close the cell immediately afterwards and never to return to -it—why, I ask, does she tie herself down for a fortnight to this incessant, toilsome -coming and going from the burrow to the fields and from the fields to the burrow, -forcing her way each time through the unstable sand, either to go hunting or to bring -the larva her latest capture? It is, first and foremost, a question of having fresh -victuals for her larva: an all-important question, for the grub absolutely refuses -any high or tainted game. Like the grubs of the other Diggers, it wants fresh meat -and nothing but fresh meat. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb272">[<a href="#pb272">272</a>]</span></p> -<p>We have seen in the case of the Cerceres, the Sphex and the Ammophilæ how the mother -solves the problem of preserved food-stuffs, the problem of stocking a cell with the -requisite quantity of game for its future occupant and keeping the meat fresh for -whole weeks at a time; indeed, it is something more than fresh, for the victims are -kept in an almost living state, except that they are incapable of movement, an essential -condition if the grub is to feed on them in safety. The miracle is performed by the -most cunning methods known to physiology. The poisoned lancet is driven into the nerve-centres -once or oftener, according to the structure of the nervous system. Thus operated upon, -the victim retains all the attributes of life, short of the power of moving. -</p> -<p>Let us see if the Bembex make use of this profound science of slaughter. The Flies -taken from between the legs of the kidnapper as she enters her burrow present, in -most cases, every appearance of death. They are motionless; occasionally we can detect -in a few of them some faint convulsions of the tarsi, the last vestiges of a life -that is passing away. The same appearance of complete death is usually found in the -insects which are not actually killed but paralysed by the adroit dagger-thrust of -a Cerceris or a Sphex. The question whether they are <span class="pageNum" id="pb273">[<a href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>alive or dead can therefore be decided only according to the manner in which the victims -keep fresh. -</p> -<p>Placed in little screws of paper or in glass tubes, the Crickets and Grasshoppers -of the Sphex, the caterpillars of the Ammophilæ, and the Beetles and Weevils of the -Cerceres preserve their flexibility of limb, their freshness of colouring and the -normal condition of their intestines for weeks and months. They are not corpses but -bodies sunk in a lethargy from which there is no awaking. The Flies of the Bembex -behave quite differently. The Eristales, the Syrphi—in short, all those whose livery -is at all brightly coloured—soon lose the brilliancy of their attire. The eyes of -certain Gad-flies, magnificently gilded, with three purple bands, very quickly grow -pale and dim, like the eyes of a dying man. All these Flies, large and small, when -placed in little paper bags through which the air circulates freely, dry up in two -or three days and become brittle; all, when preserved against evaporation in glass -tubes in which the air is stationary, go mouldy and decay. They are dead, therefore, -really and truly dead, when the Wasp brings them to her larva. Should some of them -still retain a remnant of life, a few days or even hours put an end to their agony. -Consequently, for lack of talent in the use of her dagger or for <span class="pageNum" id="pb274">[<a href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>some other reason, the murderess kills her victims outright. -</p> -<p>In view of this fact, that the prey is quite dead at the moment when it is carried -off, who would not admire the logic of the Bembex’ procedure? How methodical and consistent -everything is in the actions of the cunning Wasp! As the provisions cannot keep beyond -two or three days without going bad, they must not be stored entire in the first stages -of an infancy which will last at least a fortnight; and the hunting and distribution -must necessarily be done day by day, bit by bit, as the larva grows up. The first -ration, the one that receives the egg, will last longer than the others; the budding -grub will take several days to eat its flesh. It must therefore be small, otherwise -the joint would begin to putrefy before it was all finished. This joint therefore -will not be a bulky Gad-fly or a corpulent Bombylius, but rather a tiny Sphærophoria, -or something similar, making a dainty meal for the larva which is still so delicate. -Later, getting bigger and bigger in time, will come the larger joints of venison. -</p> -<p>The burrow must be kept shut during the mother’s absence, to save the larva from regrettable -intrusions; nevertheless the entrance must be one that can be opened very frequently -and hurriedly, without much difficulty, when <span class="pageNum" id="pb275">[<a href="#pb275">275</a>]</span>the Wasp returns laden with her prey and watched by the sharp eyes of daring parasites. -These conditions could not be obtained with a compact soil such as that in which the -Digger-wasps usually make their abodes: the door, left to itself, would stay open; -and so, each time, there would be the long and toilsome job of either blocking up -the entrance with earth and gravel or unblocking it, as the case might be. The house -therefore must be dug in ground with a very loose surface, in fine dry sand, which -will at once yield to the slightest effort on the mother’s part and, as it slides -down, will close the door of its own accord, like a curtain which, when you thrust -it aside with your hand, lets you pass through and then falls back again. There you -have the series of actions as deduced by man’s reason and as practised by the Wasp’s -sagacity. -</p> -<p>Why does the spoiler kill the captured prey instead of simply paralysing it? Is it -for want of skill in the use of her sting? Is it because of some difficulty due to -the structure of the Flies or to the methods employed in the chase? I must begin by -confessing that I have failed in my attempts to place Flies, without killing them, -in that state of complete immobility to which it is so easy to reduce a Buprestis, -a Weevil or a Scarab by injecting a tiny drop of <span class="pageNum" id="pb276">[<a href="#pb276">276</a>]</span>ammonia with a needle into the thoracic ganglia. In making the experiment, it is difficult -to render the insect motionless; and, by the time that it has ceased to move, death -has actually occurred, as is proved by its speedy corruption or desiccation. But I -have too much confidence in the resources of instinct and have witnessed the ingenious -solution of too many problems to believe that a difficulty which baffles the experimenter -can bring the insect to a standstill. Therefore, without throwing doubt upon the Bembex’ -talents as a slaughterer, I should be inclined to look for other reasons. -</p> -<p>Perhaps the Fly, so thinly covered, so devoid of any plumpness, in a word, so lean, -could not, if paralysed by the sting, resist evaporation long enough and would shrivel -up during the two or three weeks of waiting. Consider the puny Sphærophoria, the larva’s -first mouthful. How much liquid has that body to satisfy the needs of evaporation? -An infinitesimal drop, a mere nothing. The abdomen is a thin strip; its two sides -touch. Can such game as this form the basis of preserved food, seeing that evaporation -would dry up its juices in a few hours when these are not renewed by nutrition? It -is doubtful, to say the least. -</p> -<p>Let us examine the method of hunting, so as to throw some final light on the subject. -In <span class="pageNum" id="pb277">[<a href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>the quarry removed from between the legs of the Bembex, it is not rare to observe -signs of a hurried capture, made anyhow, according to the chances of a rough-and-tumble -fight. The Fly sometimes has her head turned the wrong way round, as though the spoiler -had wrung her neck; her wings are crushed; her fur, when she possesses any, is ruffled. -I have seen some that had their bellies ripped open by their assailant’s mandibles -and had lost their legs in the battle. As a rule, however, the victim is intact. -</p> -<p>No matter: considering the nature of the game, endowed with good wings for flying, -the capture must take place with a suddenness that makes it hardly possible, I should -say, to obtain paralysis unaccompanied by death. A Cerceris face to face with her -clumsy Weevil, a Sphex grappling with the fat Cricket or the portly Ephippiger, an -Ammophila holding her caterpillar by the skin of its neck, all three have an advantage -over a prey which is too slow in its movements to avoid attack. They can take their -time, select at their ease the mathematical spot where the sting is to penetrate, -and lastly go to work with the precision of an anatomist probing with his scalpel -the patient who lies before him on the operating-table. But with the Bembex it is -a very different matter: at the least alarm, the game <span class="pageNum" id="pb278">[<a href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>nimbly makes off; and, once on the wing, it can defy its pursuer. The Wasp has to -pounce upon her prey unawares, without considering how she shall attack or calculating -her blows, just as the Goshawk does when hunting in the fallows. Mandibles, claws, -sting, every weapon must be employed simultaneously in the fierce fray so as to put -an end as early as possible to a contest in which the least hesitation would give -the victim time to escape. If these conjectures are borne out by the facts, the Bembex’ -prize can be nothing but a corpse or at most a mortally wounded prey. -</p> -<p>Well, my conjectures are correct: the Bembex delivers her attack with a dash which -would do credit to a bird of prey. To surprise the Wasp hunting is not an easy thing; -were we never so well armed with patience, we should watch in vain in the neighbourhood -of the burrow: the favourable opportunity would not present itself, for the insect -flies far away and there is no possibility of following it in its rapid evolutions. -Its tactics would doubtless be unknown to me but for the assistance of a utensil from -which I would certainly never have expected such a service. I am speaking of my umbrella, -which I used as a protection against the sun in the sand of the Bois des Issarts. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb279">[<a href="#pb279">279</a>]</span></p> -<p>I was not the only one to profit by its shade; I was generally surrounded by numerous -companions. Gad-flies of various species would take refuge under the silken dome and -sit peacefully on every part of the tightly-stretched cover. I was rarely without -their society when the heat became overpowering. To while away the hours when I had -nothing to do, it amused me to watch their great gold eyes, which shone like carbuncles -under my canopy; I loved to follow their solemn progress when some part of the ceiling -became too hot and obliged them to move a little way on. -</p> -<p>One day, bang! The tight cover resounded like the skin of a drum. Perhaps an oak had -dropped an acorn on the umbrella. Presently, one after the other, bang, bang, bang! -Can some practical joker have come to disturb my solitude and fling acorns or little -pebbles at my umbrella? I leave my tent and inspect the neighbourhood: nothing! The -same sharp sound is repeated. I look up at the ceiling, and the mystery is explained. -The Bembex of the vicinity, who all consume Gad-flies, had discovered the rich provender -that was keeping me company and were impudently penetrating my shelter to seize the -Flies on the ceiling. Things were going to perfection: I had only to sit still and -look. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb280">[<a href="#pb280">280</a>]</span></p> -<p>Every moment a Bembex would enter, swift as lightning, and dart up to the silken ceiling, -which resounded with a sharp thud. Some rumpus was going on aloft, where the eye could -no longer distinguish between attacker and attacked, so lively was the fray. The struggle -did not last for an appreciable time: the Wasp would retire forthwith with a victim -between her legs. The dull herd of Gad-flies, at this sudden irruption which slaughtered -them one after the other, drew back a little all round, without quitting the treacherous -shelter. It was so hot outside! Why get excited? -</p> -<p>Obviously, this suddenness of attack, followed by the swift removal of the prey, does -not allow the Bembex to regulate her dagger-play. The sting no doubt performs its -office, but it is directed without precision at those spots which the hazards of the -fight place within its reach. I have seen Bembex, to finish off their half-killed -Gad-flies still struggling in the assassin’s grasp, munch the head and thorax of the -victims. This habit in itself proves that the Wasp wants a genuine corpse and not -a paralysed prey, since she ends the Fly’s agony with so little ceremony. All things -considered, therefore, I think that, on the one hand, the nature of the prey, which -dries up so quickly, and, on the other hand, the difficulty of making such rapid <span class="pageNum" id="pb281">[<a href="#pb281">281</a>]</span>attacks, explain why the Bembex serve up dead prey to their larvæ and consequently -cater for them from day to day. -</p> -<p>Let us watch the Wasp as she returns to the burrow with her capture held under her -abdomen between her legs. Here comes one, the Tarsal Bembex (<i lang="la">B. tarsata</i>), who arrives laden with a Bee-fly. The nest is situated at the sandy foot of a steep -bank. The huntress announces her approach by a shrill humming, which has something -plaintive about it and which continues until the insect sets foot to earth. We see -the Bembex hover above the bank and then dip straight down, very slowly and cautiously, -all the time emitting her shrill hum. Should her keen eye descry anything unusual, -she slackens her descent, hovers for a second or two, goes up again, comes down again -and flies away, swift as an arrow. After a few moments, here she is once more. Hovering -at a certain height, she appears to be inspecting the locality, as if from the top -of an observatory. The vertical descent is resumed with the most cautious slowness; -finally, the Wasp alights with no hesitation whatever at a spot which to my eye has -naught to distinguish it from the rest of the sandy surface. At that instant the plaintive -whimper ceases. -</p> -<p>The insect, no doubt, has landed more or <span class="pageNum" id="pb282">[<a href="#pb282">282</a>]</span>less on chance, since the most practised eye cannot distinguish one spot from the -other on that expanse of sand; it has alighted somewhere near its home, of which it -will now seek the entrance, concealed after its last exit not only by the natural -falling-in of the materials but also by the Wasp’s own careful sweeping. But no: the -Bembex does not hesitate at all, does not grope about, does not seek. By common consent -the antennæ are looked upon as organs for guiding insects in their searches. At this -moment of the return to the nest, I see nothing particular in the play of the antennæ. -Without once letting go her prey, the Bembex scratches a little in front of her, at -the very spot where she has alighted, gives a push with her head and straightway enters, -with the Fly under her abdomen. The sand falls in, the door closes and the Wasp is -at home. -</p> -<p>It makes no difference that I have seen the Bembex return to her nest hundreds of -times; it is always with fresh astonishment that I behold the keen-sighted insect -find without hesitation a door whose presence there is nothing to indicate. This door, -in fact, is hidden with jealous care, not now, after the Bembex has gone in—for the -obliterating sand does not become quite level of its own weight, but leaves perhaps -a slight depression, or an incompletely <span class="pageNum" id="pb283">[<a href="#pb283">283</a>]</span>blocked porch—but certainly after she comes out, for, when starting on an expedition, -she never fails to put a finishing touch to the result of the natural landslip. Wait -for her departure and you shall see her, before flying off, sweep the front of the -door and level it with scrupulous care. When she is gone, I defy the most penetrating -eye to find the entrance. To discover it again, when the sandy expanse was of any -size, I had to resort to a kind of triangulation; and how often, after a few hours’ -absence, did not my combinations of triangles and my efforts of memory prove to be -at fault! All that remained was the stake, a grass-stalk planted on the threshold; -and even this method was not always effective, for the insect, with its passion for -continually improving the outside of the nest, often made the bit of straw disappear -from sight. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb284">[<a href="#pb284">284</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch16" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e409">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xvi</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">A PARASITE OF THE BEMBEX. THE COCOON</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have shown the Bembex hovering with her cumbrous prize above the nest and then dropping -vertically and very slowly: a hesitating descent accompanied by a sort of plaintive -hum. This cautious arrival might suggest that the insect is examining the ground from -above in order to find its door and trying to recall the locality before alighting. -But another motive is at work, as I propose to demonstrate. Under ordinary conditions, -when no sign of danger is apparent, the Wasp comes suddenly, at full tilt, without -any hovering, hesitating or whimpering, and settles at once on her threshold or very -near it. Her memory is so faithful that she has no need to search about. Let us then -look into the cause of that hesitating approach which I described in the last chapter. -</p> -<p>The Wasp hovers, descends slowly, ascends again, flies away and returns, because the -nest is threatened by a very grave danger. Her plaintive hum denotes anxiety: she -never <span class="pageNum" id="pb285">[<a href="#pb285">285</a>]</span>emits it when there is no peril. But who is the enemy? Can it be I, sitting here and -watching? Why, no: I am nothing to her, nothing but a shapeless mass unworthy of her -attention. The formidable enemy, the fearsome foe that must be avoided at all costs, -is there, sitting motionless on the sand, near the house. It is a miserable little -Fly, feeble and inoffensive in appearance. This insignificant Gnat is the terror of -the Bembex. The scourge of the Fly-tribe, the fierce slayer who so swiftly wrings -the necks of colossal Gad-flies sated with blood from an Ox’s back, does not enter -her own residence because she sees herself watched by another Fly, a regular pigmy, -who would make scarcely a mouthful for her larvæ. -</p> -<p>Why does she not pounce upon her and get rid of the little wretch? The Wasp is quick -enough on the wing to catch her; and, small though the capture be, the larvæ will -not scorn it, since any sort of Fly suits them. But no: the Bembex flees from a foe -whom she could cut to bits with a single stroke of her mandibles; it is to me as though -I saw my Cat fleeing in terror from a Mouse. The ardent huntress of Flies is hunted -by a Fly, and a small one at that. I bow before the facts without hoping ever to understand -this inversion of the parts played by each insect. To be able to rid yourself <span class="pageNum" id="pb286">[<a href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>easily of a mortal enemy who is contemplating the ruin of your family and would furnish -a nice little meal for it, to be able to do that and not do it when the enemy is there, -within reach of you, watching you, defying you: this is the height of animal aberration. -But aberration is not the right word; let us rather speak of the harmony of created -things, for, since this wretched little Fly has her tiny part to play in the general -order, the Bembex must needs respect her and like a craven flee before her, else there -would long since have been none of her left in the world. -</p> -<p>Let us now tell the history of this parasite. Among the nests of the Bembex, we find -very frequently some that are occupied at the same time by the larva of the Wasp and -by other larvæ, strangers to the family and gluttonous companions of the first. These -strangers are smaller than the Bembex’ nurseling, tear-shaped and of a purplish colour, -due to the tint of the baby-food that shows through the transparent body. They vary -in number: there are sometimes half-a-dozen of them, sometimes ten or more. They belong -to a species of Fly, as is evident from their shape and also confirmed by the pupæ -which we find in their place. Home-breeding completes the proof. When reared in boxes, -on a layer of <span class="pageNum" id="pb287">[<a href="#pb287">287</a>]</span>sand, with Flies renewed from day to day, they turn into pupæ from which, a year later, -there issues a small Fly, a Tachina of the genus known as Miltogramma. -</p> -<p>It is the same Fly that caused the Bembex such lively fears by lying in ambush near -the burrow. The Wasp’s terror is but too well founded. This is what happens inside -the dwelling: around the heap of food which the mother exhausts herself in keeping -up to the requisite quantity, seated in company with the lawful offspring, are from -six to ten hungry guests, who dip their sharp-pointed mouths into the common dish -with no more restraint than if they were at home. Harmony seems to prevail at the -table. I have never seen the lawful larva grow indignant at the indiscretion of the -alien grubs, nor have I seen these appear to wish to interfere with the other’s repast. -All help themselves indiscriminately and eat away peaceably without seeking a quarrel -with their neighbours. -</p> -<p>So far all would be well, if a serious difficulty did not now arise. However active -the mother-nurse may be, she is obviously not equal to such an output. She had to -be constantly hunting to feed one larva, her own; how could she possibly manage to -provide for a dozen greedy mouths? The result of this <span class="pageNum" id="pb288">[<a href="#pb288">288</a>]</span>enormous increase of family can only be want, or even starvation, not for the Fly’s -maggots, which, developing more quickly than the Bembex’ larva, get ahead of it and -profit by the days when there is still plenty for everybody, as their host is too -young to need much, but certainly for that unfortunate host, who arrives at the transformation -period without being able to make up for lost time. Besides, even if the first visitors, -in becoming pupæ, leave him the free run of the table, others appear upon the scene, -so long as the mother continues to come to the nest, and complete his starvation. -</p> -<p>In burrows invaded by numerous parasites, the Bembex’ larva is in point of fact much -smaller than one would suppose from the heap of food consumed, the remains of which -encumber the cell. Limp, emaciated, reduced to a half or a third of its normal size, -it vainly tries to weave a cocoon for which it does not possess the silk; and it perishes -in a corner of the house among the pupæ of its more fortunate companions. Its end -may be more cruel still. Should the provisions fail, should the mother-nurse delay -too long in returning with food, the Flies devour the larva of the Bembex. I verified -this black deed by rearing the brood myself. All went well so long as there was plenty -to eat; but, if the daily portion was <span class="pageNum" id="pb289">[<a href="#pb289">289</a>]</span>omitted by accident or design, next day or the day after I was sure to find the Fly’s -grubs greedily slicing up the larva of the Bembex. So, when the nest is invaded by -the parasites, the lawful larva is doomed to perish, either by hunger or by a violent -death; and this is what makes the Bembex hate the sight of the Miltogrammæ prowling -around her home. -</p> -<p>The Bembex are not the only victims of these parasites: all the Digger-wasps without -distinction have their burrows plundered by Tachinæ and especially Miltogrammæ. Different -observers, notably Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, have spoken of the wiles of these -bold-faced Flies; but none of them, so far as I know, has remarked this very curious -instance of parasitism at the expense of the Bembex. I say very curious, because the -conditions are quite different. The nests of the other Digger-wasps are stocked beforehand -and the Miltogramma drops her eggs on the pieces of game as they are taken in. When -the Wasp has finished her catering and laid her egg, she closes the cell, where henceforth -the lawful larva and the alien larvæ hatch and live together without ever being visited -in their solitude. The mother therefore is not aware of the parasites’ brigandage, -which remains unpunished because it is unknown. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb290">[<a href="#pb290">290</a>]</span></p> -<p>With the Bembex it is quite another matter. The mother is constantly returning indoors -during the fortnight which it takes to rear her grubs; she knows that her offspring -is living in the company of a number of intruders, who appropriate the best part of -the food; each time that she brings provisions to her larva, she touches and feels -at the bottom of the cavity those hungry guests who, far from contenting themselves -with the remnants, seize upon the pick of the victuals; she must perceive, however -limited her arithmetical faculties, that twelve are more than one; besides, the consumption -of food, which is out of all proportion to her hunting powers, would tell her; and -yet, instead of taking those presumptuous aliens by the skin of the belly and chucking -them out of doors, she placidly tolerates them. -</p> -<p>Tolerates them, did I say? Why, she feeds them, she brings them provisions, having -perhaps for those intruders the same affection as for her own larva! It is a new version -of the story of the Cuckoo, but with even more singular circumstances. The theory -that the Cuckoo, almost the size of the Sparrow-hawk and wearing the same dress, inspires -enough respect to enable her to introduce her egg with impunity into the feeble Warbler’s -nest, and that the latter, in her turn, perhaps over-awed <span class="pageNum" id="pb291">[<a href="#pb291">291</a>]</span>by the fearsome appearance of her Toad-faced nurseling, accepts and looks after the -stranger: this theory has some plausibility. But what should we say if the Warbler -turned parasite and, with superb audacity, went and confided her eggs to the eyrie -of the bird of prey, to the nest of the Sparrow-hawk himself, the bloodthirsty devourer -of Warblers? What should we say if the rapacious Hawk accepted the trust and fondly -reared the brood of little birds? And this is exactly what the Bembex does, that ravisher -of Flies who tenderly nurses other Flies, that huntress who provides food for a quarry -whose last meal will be made on her own disembowelled larva! I leave it to others, -cleverer than myself, to interpret these astonishing relations. -</p> -<p>Let us observe the tactics employed by the Tachina for the purpose of confiding her -eggs to the Digger’s nest. It is an absolute rule that the Gnat never enters the burrow, -even though she should find it open and the owner absent. The sly parasite would think -twice about venturing down a passage where, being no longer free to escape, she might -pay dear for her brazen effrontery. For her the one and only favourable moment for -her designs, a moment awaited with exquisite patience, is that at which the Wasp dives -into the gallery, <span class="pageNum" id="pb292">[<a href="#pb292">292</a>]</span>with her prey clasped to her belly. At that instant, however short it may be, when -the Bembex or any other Digger has half her body well within the entrance and is about -to disappear underground, the Miltogramma dashes up and settles on the piece of game -that projects a little way beyond the hinder extremity of the ravisher; and, while -the Bembex is delayed by the difficulty of entering, the other, with unparalleled -swiftness, lays an egg on the prey, or even two or three in quick succession. -</p> -<p>The hesitation of the Wasp hampered by her load lasts but the twinkling of an eye. -No matter: this is long enough for the Gnat to accomplish her misdeed without allowing -herself to be carried beyond the threshold. How smoothly her organs must work to adapt -themselves to this instantaneous laying! The Bembex disappears, herself introducing -the enemy to the home; and the Tachina goes and squats in the sun, close to the burrow, -to meditate fresh deeds of darkness. If we wish to make sure that the Fly’s eggs have -really been laid during this rapid manœuvre, we need only open the burrow and follow -the Bembex to the bottom of her dwelling. The prey which we take from her bears at -the tip of its abdomen at least one egg, sometimes more, according to the length of -the delay at the entrance. These eggs are <span class="pageNum" id="pb293">[<a href="#pb293">293</a>]</span>too small to belong to any but a parasite; besides, if any doubt remained, separate -rearing in a box results in Fly-grubs, followed by the pupæ and lastly the Miltogrammæ -themselves. -</p> -<p>The moment adopted by the Gnat is chosen with great discrimination: it is the only -moment when she is able to accomplish her designs without danger, and without useless -dodging about. The Wasp, half-trapped in the entrance-hall, cannot see the foe so -daringly perched on the hind-quarters of the prey; if she suspects the parasite’s -presence, she cannot drive her away, having no liberty of movement in the narrow corridor; -lastly, in spite of all the precautions which she takes to facilitate her entrance, -she cannot always vanish underground with the necessary speed, the fact being that -the bandit is much too quick for her. This indeed is the auspicious moment and the -only one, since prudence forbids the Fly to penetrate into the cave where other Flies, -far stronger than herself, serve as food for the grub. Outside, in the open air, the -difficulty is insurmountable, thanks to the intense vigilance of the Bembex. Let us -turn for a minute to the arrival of the mother while her home is being watched by -Miltogrammæ. -</p> -<p>A number of these Midges, greater or less from time to time but usually three or four, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb294">[<a href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>station themselves on the sand and remain perfectly still, all gazing at the burrow, -of which they well know the entrance, carefully hidden though it be. Their dull-brown -colour, their great blood-red eyes, their indefatigable patience have often suggested -to me a picture of brigands, clad in dark frieze, with a red handkerchief round their -heads, waiting in ambush for the moment to strike a felon blow. The Wasp arrives carrying -her prey. If nothing of an alarming nature troubled her, she would then and there -alight at her door. But she hovers at a certain height, comes down slowly and circumspectly, -hesitates; and a plaintive whimpering, resulting from a special vibration of her wings, -expresses her fears. She has seen the malefactors therefore. They too have seen the -Bembex: they follow her with their eyes, as the movement of their red heads shows; -every gaze is turned towards the coveted booty. Now come the marches and countermarches -of craft striving to outwit prudence. -</p> -<p>The Bembex comes straight down, with an imperceptible flight, as though letting herself -drop inertly, buoyed up by the parachute of her wings. She is now hovering a hand’s -breadth above the ground. This is the moment. The Midges take flight and all make -for the rear of the Wasp; they hover in her wake, some <span class="pageNum" id="pb295">[<a href="#pb295">295</a>]</span>nearer, some farther, in a geometrical line. If the Bembex turns to thwart their designs, -they also turn, with a precision that keeps them in the rear on the same straight -line; if she advances, they advance; if she retreats, they retreat, letting the Wasp -set their pace all the time, now flying slowly, now coming to a standstill, according -to the behaviour of their leader, the Bembex. They make no attempt to fling themselves -on the object of their cupidity; their tactics are confined to keeping ready, in this -rearguard position, which will save them any hesitation at the critical moment. -</p> -<p>Sometimes, wearying of this obstinate pursuit, the Bembex alights; the others instantly -settle on the sand, still in the rear, and do not budge. The Wasp darts off again, -with a shriller whimpering, a sign no doubt of increasing indignation; the Midges -dart after her. One last method remains of throwing off the persistent Flies: dashing -off at full speed, the Bembex flies far away, hoping perhaps to mislead the parasites -by rapid evolutions across country. But the wary Gnats are not caught in the trap: -they let her go and once more take up their positions on the sand around the burrow. -When the Bembex returns, the same pursuit will begin all over again, until at last -the parasites’ obstinacy has worn down the mother’s prudence. In that <span class="pageNum" id="pb296">[<a href="#pb296">296</a>]</span>second when her vigilance is relaxed, the Flies are straightway there. One of them, -occupying the most favourable spot, swoops upon the disappearing prey and the deed -is done: the egg is laid. -</p> -<p>There is ample evidence that the Bembex is aware of the danger. The Wasp knows how -disastrous the presence of the hateful Gnat may be to the future of the nest; on this -point her prolonged attempts to put off the Tachinæ, her hesitations, her flights -leave not the shadow of a doubt. Then how is it, I ask myself once more, that the -Fly-huntress allows herself to be worried by another of the tribe, by an infinitesimal -bandit, incapable of the least resistance, whom she could reach with a sudden rush -if she tried? Why not relieve herself of the prey that clogs her movements and swoop -down upon those evil-doers? What would be needed to exterminate the ill-omened brood -that hangs around the burrow? A <i lang="fr">battue</i> that would take her a few seconds. But the harmony of the universe, the laws that -regulate the preservation of species, will not have it so; and the Bembex will always -allow themselves to be harassed without ever learning from the famous ‘struggle for -life’ the radical method of extermination. I have seen them sometimes, when too close-pressed -by the Midges, drop their prey and fly <span class="pageNum" id="pb297">[<a href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>away in mad haste, but without any hostile demonstration, though the putting down -of the burden left them quite free in their movements. The abandoned prey, but now -so ardently coveted by the Tachinæ, lay on the ground, for all to do as they pleased -with; and not one of them took any notice of it. This game lying in the open air had -no value for the Midges, whose larvæ require the shelter of a burrow. It was valueless -also to the suspicious Bembex, who, on returning, felt it for a moment and left it -with scorn. A momentary break in her vigilance had made her doubtful of it. -</p> -<p class="tb"></p><p> -</p> -<p>We will end this chapter with the story of the larva. Its monotonous life offers nothing -remarkable in the fortnight during which it eats and grows. Next comes the construction -of the cocoon. The meagre development of the silk-producing organs does not allow -the grub a dwelling of pure silk, composed, like those of the Ammophilæ and the Sphex, -of several wrappers, one outside the other, which protect the larva and afterwards -the nymph against the inroads of damp in a shallow and exposed burrow when the rains -of autumn come and the snows of winter. Nevertheless, the Bembex’ burrow is in a worse -plight than that of the Sphex, being situated at a depth of a few inches in <span class="pageNum" id="pb298">[<a href="#pb298">298</a>]</span>easily saturated soil. Therefore, in order to construct itself an adequate shelter, -the larva makes up by its industry for its small quantity of silk. With grains of -sand artistically put together and cemented with the silky material it builds itself -an exceedingly solid cocoon, impenetrable to damp. -</p> -<p>Three general methods are employed by the Digger-wasps in constructing the sanctum -in which the metamorphosis is to take place. Some dig their burrows at great depths, -under shelter: their cocoon then consists of a single envelope, so thin as to be transparent. -This is the case with the Philanthi and the Cerceres. Others are content with a shallow -burrow in open ground; but in that case they sometimes have enough silk to increase -the number of wrappers for the cocoon, as we see with the Sphex, the Ammophilæ and -the Scoliæ, or sometimes the quantity of silk is insufficient, when they have recourse -to gummed sand, this being the method practised by the Bembex, the Stizi and the Palari. -A Bembex-cocoon is so compact and strong that it might be taken for the kernel of -some seed. The form is cylindrical, with one end rounded and the other pointed. The -length is about three-quarters of an inch. On the outside it is slightly wrinkled -and rather coarse to look at; but the inner walls are glazed with a fine varnish. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb299">[<a href="#pb299">299</a>]</span></p> -<p>My experiments in indoor breeding have enabled me to observe every detail of the construction -of this architectural curiosity, a regular strong-box inside which the inclemencies -of the weather can be braved in safety. The larva first pushes away the remains of -its food and forces them into a corner of the cell or compartment which I have arranged -for it in a box with paper partitions. Having swept the floor, it fixes at the different -walls of its dwelling threads of a beautiful white silk, forming a spidery web which -keeps off the cumbrous heap of broken victuals and serves as a scaffolding for the -next work. -</p> -<p>This work consists of a hammock slung far from any dirt, in the centre of the threads -stretched from wall to wall. Nothing but silk, magnificently fine, white silk, enters -into its composition. Its shape is that of a sack open at one end with a wide circular -mouth, closed at the other and ending in a point. An eel-trap would give a very fair -picture of it. The edges of the mouth are kept apart and permanently stretched by -numerous threads starting from there and fastened to the adjoining walls. Lastly, -the texture of this sack is extremely fine and allows us to see all the grub’s proceedings. -</p> -<p>Things had been in this condition since the day before, when I heard the larva scratching -<span class="pageNum" id="pb300">[<a href="#pb300">300</a>]</span>in the box. I opened it and found my prisoner engaged in scraping the cardboard wall -with its mandibles, while its body was half outside the sack. The cardboard had already -suffered considerably and a heap of tiny fragments were piled in front of the opening -of the hammock, to be used later. For lack of other materials, the grub would doubtless -have employed these scrapings for its building. I thought it better to provide something -in accordance with its tastes and to give it sand. Never had Bembex-larva built with -such sumptuous materials. I poured before the captive sand from my ink-stand: blotting-sand, -blue sand sprinkled with little gilt mica spangles. -</p> -<p>This supply is placed in front of the mouth of the bag. The bag itself is in a horizontal -position, which is convenient for the coming task. The larva, leaning half out of -the hammock, picks up its sand almost grain by grain, rummaging in the heap with its -mandibles. If any grain is found to be too bulky, the grub takes it and throws it -away. When the sand is thus sorted, the larva introduces a certain quantity into the -silken edifice by sweeping it with its mouth. This done, it retires into the eel-trap -and begins to spread the materials in a uniform layer on the lower surface of the -sack; then it gums the different grains and inlays them in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb301">[<a href="#pb301">301</a>]</span>fabric, using silk as cement. The upper surface is built more slowly: the grains are -carried up one by one and fixed on with the silken putty. -</p> -<p>This first layer of sand as yet embraces only the front half of the cocoon, the half -that ends at the mouth of the bag. Before turning round to work at the back half, -the grub renews its supply of materials and takes certain precautions so as not to -be hindered in its mason’s work. The sand outside, heaped up in front of the entrance, -might slip inside and embarrass the builder in so narrow a space. The grub foresees -this possibility: it glues a few grains together and makes a rough curtain of sand, -which stops up the orifice very imperfectly, but sufficiently to prevent an accident. -Having taken these precautions, the larva works at the back half of the cocoon. From -time to time it turns round to fetch fresh supplies from outside, tearing a corner -of the curtain that protects it against the outer sand and grabbing through this window -the materials which it requires. -</p> -<p>The cocoon is still incomplete, wide open at the big end; it wants the spherical cap -that is to close it. For this final labour the grub takes a plentiful supply of sand, -the last supply of all, and then pushes away the heap outside the entrance. At the -opening it now weaves a silken cap, which fits the mouth of the primitive <span class="pageNum" id="pb302">[<a href="#pb302">302</a>]</span>eel-trap precisely. Lastly, grains of sand, kept in reserve inside, are laid one by -one upon this silken foundation and glued together with silky slime. Having finished -this lid, the larva has nothing else to do but give the last finish to the inside -of the abode and glaze the walls with varnish to protect its delicate skin against -the rough sand. -</p> -<p>The hammock of pure silk and the hemisphere that closes it later are, as we see, but -a scaffolding intended to support the masonry of sand and give it a regular curve; -they might be compared with the wooden moulds which builders set up when constructing -an arch, a vault. Once the work is done, the timber frame is taken away and the vault -is sustained by virtue of its perfect balance. Even so, when the cocoon is finished, -the silken support disappears, partly lost in the masonry, partly destroyed by contact -with the coarse earth; and not a trace remains of the ingenious method followed in -welding together materials with so little consistency as sand into a building of such -perfect regularity. -</p> -<p>The round cap closing the mouth of the original eel-trap is a work apart, adjusted -to the main body of the cocoon. However well the two parts are fitted and soldered, -the solidity is not the same as the larva would obtain if it <span class="pageNum" id="pb303">[<a href="#pb303">303</a>]</span>built its whole dwelling continuously. The circumference of the lid therefore has -a circular line of least resistance. But this is not a fault of construction; on the -contrary, it is a fresh improvement. The insect would find grave difficulty in issuing -later from its strong-box, so stout are the walls. The line of junction, weaker than -the others, would seem to save it a good deal of effort, for it is mostly along this -line that the cover is removed when the Bembex emerges from the ground in the perfect -state. -</p> -<p>I have called this cocoon a strong-box. It is indeed a very solid piece of work, both -from its shape and from the nature of its materials. Landslips or subsidences cannot -alter its outline, for the strongest pressure of one’s fingers does not always succeed -in crushing it. Therefore it matters little to the larva if the ceiling of its burrow, -dug in loose soil, should fall in sooner or later; it does not care much if a passing -foot should press upon it under its thin covering of sand; it has nothing to fear -once it is enclosed in its stout bulwark. Nor does damp endanger it. I have kept Bembex-cocoons -immersed in water for a fortnight at a time without afterwards discovering the least -trace of dampness inside them. Why have we no such waterproofing for our dwellings! -</p> -<p>Lastly, thanks to its graceful oval, this cocoon <span class="pageNum" id="pb304">[<a href="#pb304">304</a>]</span>seems rather the product of some elaborate manufacture than that of a grub. To any -one unacquainted with the secret, the cocoons which I had built with blotting-sand -might have been jewels of some unknown workmanship, great beads studded with golden -spots on a lapis-lazuli ground, destined to form the necklace of a Polynesian belle. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb305">[<a href="#pb305">305</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch17" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e417">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xvii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE RETURN TO THE NEST</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The Ammophila sinking her well at a late hour of the day leaves her work, after closing -the orifice with a stone lid, flits away from flower to flower, goes to another part -of the country, and yet next day is able to come back with her caterpillar to the -home excavated on the day before, notwithstanding the unfamiliar locality, which is -often quite new to her. The Bembex, laden with game, alights with almost mathematical -precision on the threshold of her door, which is blocked with sand and indistinguishable -from the rest of the sandy expanse. Where my sight and recollection are at fault, -their eyes and their memory possess a sureness that is very nearly infallible. One -would think that insects had something more subtle than mere remembrance, a kind of -intuition for places to which we have nothing similar, in short, an indefinable faculty -which I call memory, failing any other expression to denote it. There can be no name -for the unknown. In order to throw if possible <span class="pageNum" id="pb306">[<a href="#pb306">306</a>]</span>a little light on this detail of animal psychology, I made a series of experiments -which I will now describe.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2640src" href="#xd31e2640">1</a> -</p> -<p>The first has for its subject the Great Cerceris, who hunts Cleonus-weevils. About -ten o’clock in the morning I catch twelve females, all belonging to the same colony -and at work on the same bank, busy digging burrows or victualling them. Each prisoner -is placed separately in a little paper bag and the whole lot put in a box. I walk -about a mile and a half from the site of the nests and then release my Cerceres, first -taking care, so that I may know them later, to mark them with a white dot in the middle -of the thorax, using a straw dipped in indelible paint. -</p> -<p>The Wasps fly only a few yards away, in every direction, one here, another there; -they settle on blades of grass, pass their fore-tarsi over their eyes for a moment, -as though dazzled by the bright sunshine to which they have suddenly been restored; -then they take flight, some sooner, some later, and all, without hesitation, make -straight for the south, that is to say, for home. Five hours later I return to the -common site of the nests. I am hardly there when I see two of my Cerceres with white -dots working at <span class="pageNum" id="pb307">[<a href="#pb307">307</a>]</span>the burrows; soon a third arrives from the fields, with a Weevil between her legs; -a fourth is not slow in following. The recognition of four out of twelve in less than -fifteen minutes was enough to convince me. I thought it unnecessary to wait any longer. -What four could do the others would do, if they had not already done it; and I was -quite at liberty to presume that the absent eight were out hunting or else hidden -in their underground galleries. Therefore, carried for a mile and a half in a direction -and by a road of which they could not have taken cognizance in their paper prisons, -the Cerceres, or at least some of them, had returned home. -</p> -<p>I do not know how far the Cerceres’ hunting-grounds extend; and it is possible that -they know the country more or less over a radius of a mile and a half. In that case, -they would not have felt sufficiently lost at the spot to which I moved them and they -would have got home by their acquired local knowledge. The experiment had to be repeated, -at a greater distance and from a starting-point which the Wasp could not be suspected -of knowing. -</p> -<p>I therefore take nine female Cerceres from the same group of burrows that supplied -me in the morning. Three of them had just been subjected to the previous test. They -were again <span class="pageNum" id="pb308">[<a href="#pb308">308</a>]</span>carried in a dark box, each insect enclosed in its paper bag. The starting-point selected -is the nearest town, Carpentras, which lies at about two miles from the burrow. I -am to release my insects not among the fields, as on the first occasion, but absolutely -in the street, in the centre of a crowded neighbourhood, where the Cerceres, with -their rustic habits, had certainly never penetrated. As the day is already far advanced, -I postpone the experiments; and my captives spend the night in their prison-cells. -</p> -<p>Next morning, at about eight, I mark them on the thorax with two white spots, to distinguish -them from yesterday’s lot, who were marked with only one; and I set them free, one -after the other, in the middle of the street. Each Cerceris released first shoots -straight up between the two rows of houses, as though to escape as soon as possible -from the narrow street and gain the spacious horizons; then, rising above the roofs, -she at once darts away vigorously towards the south. And it was from the south that -I brought them; it is in the south that their burrows are. Nine times, with nine prisoners, -freed one after the other, I had this striking instance of the way in which the insect -stranded far from home takes without hesitation the right direction for returning -to the nest. -</p> -<p>I myself was at the burrows a few hours later. <span class="pageNum" id="pb309">[<a href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>I saw several of yesterday’s Cerceres, recognizing them by the one white spot on the -thorax; but I saw none of those whom I had just let loose. Had they not been able -to find their home again? Were they hunting? Or were they hiding in their galleries -to recover from the excitement of such a trial? I do not know. Next day I paid a fresh -visit; and this time I had the satisfaction of finding at work, as active as though -nothing out of the way had happened, five of the Cerceres with two white spots on -the thorax. A journey of quite two miles, the town with its houses, its roofs, its -smoky chimneys, all things so new to these utter rustics, had not prevented them from -going back to the nest. -</p> -<p>When taken from his brood and carried to enormous distances, the Pigeon returns promptly -to the dovecote. If we wanted to work out a proportion between the length of the journey -and the size of the creature, how greatly superior to the Pigeon would be the Cerceris, -who finds her burrow after being carried a distance of two miles! The bulk of the -insect is not a cubic centimetre,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2663src" href="#xd31e2663">2</a> whereas that of the Pigeon must be quite a cubic decimetre,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2667src" href="#xd31e2667">3</a> if not more. The bird, being a thousand times larger than the Wasp, ought therefore, -in order to rival her, to <span class="pageNum" id="pb310">[<a href="#pb310">310</a>]</span>find the dovecote at a distance of two thousand miles, which is thrice the greatest -length of France from north to south. I do not know that a Carrier-pigeon has ever -performed such a feat. But power of flight and, still less, lucidity of instinct are -qualities that cannot be measured by the yard. Comparative size cannot here be taken -into consideration; and we must just look upon the insect as a worthy rival of the -bird, without deciding which of the two has the advantage. -</p> -<p>In returning to the dovecote and the burrow, when man has artificially made them lose -their bearings and carried them to great distances, in unfamiliar directions and into -regions which they have not yet visited, are the Pigeon and the Cerceris guided by -recollection? Is memory their compass when, on reaching a certain height, whence they -can, so to speak, pick up the scent after a fashion, they dart with all their power -of wing towards the horizon where their nests are? Is it memory that traces their -road through the air, across regions which they are seeing for the first time? Obviously -not: there can be no recollection of the unknown. The Wasp and the bird are unacquainted -with the country around; nothing can have told them the general direction in which -they were moved, for the journey was made in the darkness of a closed <span class="pageNum" id="pb311">[<a href="#pb311">311</a>]</span>basket or a box. Locality, relative position: everything is unknown to them; and yet -they find their way. They therefore have something better than mere memory as a guide: -they have a special faculty, a sort of topographical sense of which we cannot possibly -form an idea, having nothing similar ourselves. -</p> -<p>I will show by experiment how subtle and precise this faculty is within its narrow -province, and also how obtuse and dull it becomes when driven to depart from the usual -conditions in which it acts. This is the invariable antithesis of instinct. -</p> -<p>A Bembex, actively engaged in feeding her larva, leaves the burrow. She will return -presently with the produce of the chase. The entrance is carefully stopped up with -sand, which the insect has swept there backwards before going away; there is nothing -to distinguish it from other points of the sandy surface; but this does not trouble -the Wasp, who finds her door with a skill which I have already emphasized. Let us -devise some insidious plot and change the conditions of the locality in order to perplex -the insect. I cover the entrance with a flat stone, the size of my hand. The Wasp -soon arrives. The great change effected on her threshold during her absence appears -to cause her not the slightest hesitation; at least, the Bembex at <span class="pageNum" id="pb312">[<a href="#pb312">312</a>]</span>once alights upon the stone and tries, for an instant, to dig into it, not at random -but at a spot corresponding with the opening of the burrow. The hardness of the obstacle -soon dissuades her from her enterprise. She then runs about the stone in every direction, -goes all round it, slips underneath and begins to dig in the exact direction of her -dwelling. -</p> -<p>The flat stone is not enough to mislead our wide-awake friend; we must find something -better. To cut things short, I do not allow the Bembex to continue her excavations, -which, I can see, will soon prove successful; I drive her off with my handkerchief. -The fairly long absence of the frightened insect will give me time to prepare my snares -at leisure. What materials shall I employ now? In these improvised experiments we -must know how to turn everything to use. Not far off, on the high-road, are the fresh -droppings of some beast of burden. The very thing! The droppings are collected, broken -up, crumbled and then spread in a layer at least an inch thick on the threshold of -the burrow and all around, covering about a quarter of a square yard. This certainly -is a house-front the like of which no Bembex ever knew. The colouring, the nature -of the materials, the stercoral effluvia all combine to mystify the Wasp. Will she -take all this—that <span class="pageNum" id="pb313">[<a href="#pb313">313</a>]</span>expanse of manure, that dung—for the front of her door? Why, yes: here she comes! -She inspects the unwonted condition of the place from above and settles in the middle -of the layer, just opposite the entrance. She digs, makes a hole through the stringy -mass and reaches the sand, where she at once finds the orifice of the passage. I stop -her and drive her away a second time. -</p> -<p>Is not the precision with which the Wasp alights just in front of her door, though -this be masked in a way so new to her, a proof that sight and memory are not her only -guide? What else can there be? Could it be scent? It is very doubtful, for the emanations -from the droppings have not been able to baffle the insect’s perspicacity. Still, -let us try a different smell. I happen to have on me, as part of my entomological -luggage, a small phial of ether. I sweep away the sheet of manure and replace it by -a blanket of moss, not very thick, but spreading to a considerable distance; and I -pour the contents of my phial on it as soon as I see the Bembex arrive. The ethereal -fumes, at first too strong, keep the Wasp away, but only for a moment. Then she alights -on the moss, which still exhales a very perceptible smell of ether, passes through -the obstacle and makes her way indoors. The ethereal effluvia put her out no <span class="pageNum" id="pb314">[<a href="#pb314">314</a>]</span>more than did the stercoral effluvia. Something surer than scent tells her where her -nest lies. -</p> -<p>The antennæ have often been suggested as the seat of a special sense able to guide -insects. I have already shown how the amputation of those organs seems in no way to -impede the Wasp’s investigations. Let us try once more, under more complicated conditions. -I seize the Bembex, cut off her antennæ at the roots, and at once release her. Goaded -by pain, maddened at having been imprisoned in my fingers, the insect darts off faster -than an arrow. I have to wait for a good hour, very uncertain as to whether it will -come back. The Wasp arrives however and, with her unvarying precision, alights quite -close to her door, whose appearance I have changed for the fourth time. The site of -the nest is now covered with a spreading mosaic of pebbles the size of a walnut. My -work, which, as regards the Bembex, surpasses what the megalithic monuments of Brittany -or the rows of menhirs at Carnac are to us, is powerless to deceive the mutilated -insect. Though deprived of her antennæ, the Wasp finds her entrance in the middle -of my mosaic as easily as the same insect, supplied with those organs, would have -done under other conditions. This time I let the faithful mother go indoors in peace. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb315">[<a href="#pb315">315</a>]</span></p> -<p>Four successive alterations in the site; changes in the colour, the smell, the materials -of the outside of the home; lastly, the pain of a double wound: all had failed to -baffle the Wasp or even to make her waver as to the precise locality of her door. -I had come to the end of my stratagems and understood less than ever how the insect, -if it possess no special guide in some faculty unknown to us, can find its way when -sight and scent are baffled by the artifices which I have mentioned. -</p> -<p>A few days later, a lucky experiment reopened the question and allowed me to study -it under another aspect. In this case we uncover the Bembex’ burrow all the way along, -without changing its appearance too much, an operation made easier by the shallowness -of the burrow, its almost horizontal direction, and the lack of consistency of the -soil in which it is dug. With this object we scrape the sand away gradually with a -knife. Thus deprived of its roof from end to end, the underground dwelling becomes -an open trench, a conduit, straight or curved, some eight inches long, open at the -spot where the entrance-door used to be and finishing in a blind alley at the other -end, where the larva lies amid its victuals. -</p> -<p>Here is the home uncovered, in the bright light, under the sun’s rays. How will the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb316">[<a href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>mother behave on her return? Let us consider the question in detail, according to -scientific precepts: it is a perplexing position for the observer, as my recent experiences -make me suspect. Here is the problem: the mother on arriving has the feeding of her -larva as her object in view; but to reach this larva she must first find the door. -The grub and the entrance-door: those are the two aspects of the question that appear -to me to merit separate consideration. I therefore take away the grub, together with -the provisions, and the end of the passage becomes a clear space. After making these -preparations there is nothing to do but exercise patience. -</p> -<p>The Wasp arrives at last and goes straight to where its door ought to be, that door -of which naught but the threshold remains. Here, for more than an hour, I see her -digging on the surface, sweeping, making the sand fly, and persisting, not in scooping -out a new gallery, but in looking for that loose door which ought easily to give way -before a mere push of the head and let the insect through. Instead of yielding materials, -she finds firm soil, not yet disturbed. Warned by this resistance, she confines herself -to exploring the surface, always in close proximity to the spot where the entrance -should be. A few inches on either side is all that she allows <span class="pageNum" id="pb317">[<a href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>herself. The places which she has already tested and swept twenty times over she returns -to test and sweep again, unable to bring herself to leave her narrow radius, so obstinate -is her conviction that the door must be here and not elsewhere. Several times in succession -I push her gently with a straw to some other point. She will not be put off: she returns -straightway to the place where her door once stood. At rare intervals the gallery, -now an open trench, seems to attract her attention, though very faintly. The Bembex -takes a few steps towards it, still raking, and then goes back to the entrance. Twice -or thrice I see her run the whole length of the conduit and reach the blind alley, -the abode of her grub; here she gives a few careless strokes of the rake and hurries -back to the spot where the entrance used to be, continuing her quest there with a -persistency that ends by wearying mine. More than an hour has passed and the stubborn -Wasp is still pursuing her search on the site of the vanished doorway. -</p> -<p>What will happen when the larva is present? This is the next aspect of the question. -To continue the experiment with the same Bembex would not have given me the positive -evidence which I wanted, for the insect, rendered more obstinate by its vain quest, -seemed to me now obsessed by a fixed idea, which would certainly <span class="pageNum" id="pb318">[<a href="#pb318">318</a>]</span>have obscured the facts which I wished to ascertain. I needed a fresh subject, one -not over-excited and solely concerned with the impulses of the first moment. An opportunity -soon presented itself. -</p> -<p>I uncover the burrow from end to end as I have just explained, but without touching -the contents: I leave the larva in its place, I respect the provisions; everything -in the house is in order; there is nothing lacking but the roof. Well, in front of -this open dwelling, of which the eye freely takes in every detail: entrance-hall, -gallery, cell at the back with the grub and its heap of Flies; in front of this dwelling -now a trench, at the end of which the larva wriggles under the blistering rays of -the sun, the mother behaves exactly as her predecessor did. She alights at the point -where the entrance used to be. It is here that she does her digging and sweeping; -and it is here that she always returns after hurried visits elsewhere, within a radius -of a few inches. There is no exploration of the tunnel, no anxiety about the tortured -larva. The grub, whose delicate epidermis has just passed from the cool moisture of -an underground cave to the fierce blaze of an untempered sun, is writhing on its heap -of chewed Flies; the mother does not give it a thought. To her it is no more than -any <span class="pageNum" id="pb319">[<a href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>other object lying on the sand: a little pebble, a pellet of earth, a scrap of dry -mud, nothing more. It is unworthy of attention. This tender and faithful mother, who -wears herself out in trying to reach her nurseling’s cradle, is wanting at the moment -her entrance-door, the usual door and nothing but that door. What stirs her maternal -heart is her yearning for the well-known passage. And yet the way is open: there is -nothing to stop the mother; and the grub, the ultimate object of her anxiety, is tossing -restlessly before her eyes. One bound would bring her to the side of the poor thing -clamouring for assistance. Why does she not rush to her beloved nurseling? She could -dig it a new dwelling and swiftly place it in safety underground. But no; the mother -persists in seeking a passage that no longer exists, while her child is grilling in -the sun before her eyes. My surprise is intense in the presence of this short-sighted -mother, though the sense of motherhood is the most powerful and resourceful of all -the feelings that stir the animal creation. I should hardly believe the evidence of -my eyes but for experiments endlessly repeated with Cerceres and Philanthi as well -as with Bembex of different species. -</p> -<p>Here is something more remarkable still: the mother, after prolonged hesitation, at -last <span class="pageNum" id="pb320">[<a href="#pb320">320</a>]</span>enters the roofless trench, all that remains of the original corridor. She goes forward, -draws back, goes forward again, giving a few careless sweeps, here and there, without -stopping. Guided by vague recollections and perhaps also by the smell of game emitted -by the heap of Flies, she occasionally reaches the end of the gallery, the very spot -at which the larva lies. Mother and son are now together. At this moment of meeting -after long suffering, have we a display of eager solicitude, exuberant affection, -any signs whatever of maternal joy? If you think so, you need only repeat my experiments -to persuade yourself to the contrary. The Bembex does not recognize her larva at all; -it is to her a worthless thing, something in her way, a nuisance. She walks over the -grub, treads on it ruthlessly, as she hurries to and fro. When she wants to try and -dig at the bottom of the cell, she thrusts it back with a brutal kick; she shoves -it on one side, topples it over, flings it out as unceremoniously as if it were a -big bit of gravel that hindered her in her work. Thus knocked about, the grub thinks -of defending itself. I have seen it seize its mother by the tarsus with no more ceremony -than it shows when it bites off the leg of its prey, the Fly. The struggle was hotly -contested; but at last the fierce mandibles let go <span class="pageNum" id="pb321">[<a href="#pb321">321</a>]</span>and the mother vanished in terror, making a shrill whimpering noise with her wings. -This unnatural sight of the son biting his mother and perhaps even trying to eat her -is uncommon and is brought about by circumstances which the observer has not at his -command; but what can always be witnessed is the Wasp’s profound indifference towards -her offspring and the brutal contempt with which she treats that irksome lump of rubbish, -the grub. Once she has raked out the end of the passage, which is the work of a moment, -the Bembex returns to her favourite spot, the threshold, where she resumes her useless -search. As for the grub, it continues to writhe and wriggle wherever its mother has -kicked it. It will die without the mother’s coming to its assistance, for she fails -to recognize it because she was unable to find the customary passage. Go back to-morrow -and you shall see it lying in its trench, half baked by the sun and already a prey -to the very Flies that were once its prey. -</p> -<p>Such is the concatenation of instinctive actions, linked one to the other in an order -which the gravest circumstances are powerless to disturb. What, after all, is the -Bembex looking for? Her larva, obviously. But, to get at that larva, she must enter -the burrow; and, to enter that burrow, she must first of all <span class="pageNum" id="pb322">[<a href="#pb322">322</a>]</span>find the door. And it is in the search for this door that the mother persists, despite -the wide-open gallery, despite the provisions, despite the grub, all exposed to view. -At the moment she cares not that her house is in ruins and her family in danger; what -she wants above all things is the familiar passage, the passage through the loose -sand. Perish everything, dwelling and inmate, if this passage be not found! Her actions -are like a series of echoes each awakening the next in a settled order, which allows -none to sound until the previous one has sounded. The first action could not be performed, -not because of an obstacle, for the house is wide open, but for want of the usual -entrance. That is enough: the subsequent actions shall not be performed; the first -echo was dumb and all the rest are silent. What a gulf separates intelligence and -instinct! Through the ruins of the demolished dwelling, a mother guided by intelligence -hurries straight to her son; guided by instinct, she comes to a stubborn halt on the -site of her old door. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb323">[<a href="#pb323">323</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2640"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2640src">1</a></span> For other essays on the homing of insects, cf. <i>The Mason-bees</i>: chaps. ii. to vi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2640src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2663"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2663src">2</a></span> ·061 cubic inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2663src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2667"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2667src">3</a></span> 61 cubic inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2667src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch18" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e425">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xviii</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE HAIRY AMMOPHILA</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">One day in May I was walking up and down, on the look-out for anything fresh that -might be taking place in the <i>harmas</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2731src" href="#xd31e2731">1</a> laboratory. Favier was not far off, at work in the kitchen-garden. Who is Favier? -I may as well say a few words about him at once, for we shall be hearing of him again. -</p> -<p>Favier is an old soldier. He has pitched his hut of clay and branches under the African -carob-trees; he has eaten Sea-urchins at Constantinople; he has shot Starlings in -the Crimea, during a lull in the firing. He has seen much and remembered much. In -winter, when work in the fields ends at four o’clock and the evenings are long, he -puts away rake, fork, and barrow and comes and sits on the hearth-stone of the kitchen -fireplace, where the billets of ilex-wood blaze merrily. He <span class="pageNum" id="pb324">[<a href="#pb324">324</a>]</span>fetches out his pipe, fills it methodically with a moistened thumb and smokes it solemnly. -He has been thinking of it for many a long hour; but he has abstained, for tobacco -is expensive. The privation has doubled the charm; and not a puff, recurring at regular -intervals, is wasted. -</p> -<p>Meanwhile, we start talking. Favier is, in his fashion, one of those bards of old -who were given the best seat at the hearth, for the sake of their tales; only, my -story-teller was formed in the barrack-room. No matter: the whole household, large -and small, listen to him with interest; though his speech is full of vivid images, -it is always decent. It would be a great disappointment to us if he did not come, -when his work was done, to take his ease in the chimney-corner. -</p> -<p>What does he talk about to make him so popular? He tells us what he saw of the <i lang="fr">coup d’État</i> to which we owe the hated Empire; he talks of the brandy served out and of the firing -into the mob. He—so he assures me—always aimed at the wall; and I accept his word -for it, so distressed does he appear to me and so ashamed of having taken a hand, -however innocent, in that felon’s game. -</p> -<p>He tells us of his watches in the trenches before Sebastopol; he speaks of his sudden -terror when, at night, all alone on outpost <span class="pageNum" id="pb325">[<a href="#pb325">325</a>]</span>duty, squatting in the snow, he saw fall beside him what he calls a flower-pot. It -blazed and flared and shone and lit up everything around. The infernal machine threatened -to burst at every second; and our man gave himself up for lost. But nothing happened: -the flower-pot went out quietly. It was a star-shell, an illuminating contrivance -fired to reconnoitre the assailant’s outworks in the dark. -</p> -<p>The tragedy of the battle-field is followed by the comedy of the barracks. He lets -us into the mysteries of the stew-pan, the secrets of the mess, the humorous hardships -of the cells. And, as his stock of anecdotes, seasoned with racy expressions, is inexhaustible, -the supper-hour arrives before any of us has had time to remark how long the evening -is. -</p> -<p>Favier first attracted my notice by a master-stroke. One of my friends had sent me -from Marseilles a pair of enormous Crabs, the Maia, the Sea-spider or Spider-crab -of the fishermen. I was unpacking the captives when the workmen returned from their -dinner: painters, stone-masons, plasterers engaged in repairing the house which had -been empty so long. At the sight of those strange animals, studded with spikes all -over the carapace and perched on long legs that give them a certain resemblance to -a monstrous Spider, the onlookers gave a <span class="pageNum" id="pb326">[<a href="#pb326">326</a>]</span>cry of surprise, almost of alarm. Favier, for his part, remained unmoved; and, as -he skilfully seized the terrible Spider struggling to get away, he said -</p> -<p>‘I know that thing; I’ve eaten it at Vasna. It’s first-rate.’ -</p> -<p>And he looked round at the bystanders with an air of humorous mockery which was meant -to convey: -</p> -<p>‘You’ve never been out of your hole, you people.’ -</p> -<p>One more story of him, to have done. A woman living in his neighbourhood had been, -by the doctor’s advice, to take the sea-baths at Cette. She returned from her trip -bringing with her a curious thing, a strange fruit on which she based high hopes. -When held to the ear and shaken, it rattled, proving that it contained seeds. It was -round and prickly. At one end was a sort of bud, closed with a little white flower; -at the other, a slight cavity was pierced with a few holes. -</p> -<p>The neighbour ran round to Favier to show him her find and asked him to mention it -to me. She would make me a present of the precious seeds, the idea being that some -wonderful shrub would grow from them and beautify my garden. -</p> -<p>‘<i lang="fr">Vaqui la flou, vaqui lou pécou</i>: here is the <span class="pageNum" id="pb327">[<a href="#pb327">327</a>]</span>flower, here is the tail.’ she said, showing Favier the two ends of her fruit. -</p> -<p>Favier roared with laughter: -</p> -<p>‘It’s a Sea-urchin.’ he said, ‘a Sea-chestnut; I’ve eaten them at Constantinople!’ -</p> -<p>And he explained as best he could what a Sea-urchin is. The woman did not understand -a word of what he said and persisted in her contention. She was convinced that Favier -was deceiving her, jealous at the thought that such precious seeds should reach me -through any other intermediary than him. The issue was submitted to me. -</p> -<p>‘<i lang="fr">Vaqui la flou, vaqui lou pécou</i>,’ repeated the good woman. -</p> -<p>I told her that the <i lang="fr">flou</i> was the cluster formed by the Urchin’s five white teeth and that the <i lang="fr">pécou</i> was the antipodes of the mouth. She went away only half convinced. It may be that, -at this moment, the seeds of the fruit, grains of sand rattling in the empty shell, -are germinating in some old broken-mouthed pipkin. -</p> -<p>Favier, therefore, knows many things; and he knows them more particularly through -having eaten them. He knows the virtues of a Badger’s back, the toothsome qualities -of the leg of a Fox; he is an expert as to the best part of that Eel of the bushes, -the Snake; he has browned in oil the Eyed Lizard, the ill-famed <span class="pageNum" id="pb328">[<a href="#pb328">328</a>]</span><i>Rassade</i> of the South; he has thought-out the recipe of a fry of Locusts. I am astounded at -the impossible stews which he has concocted during his cosmopolitan career. -</p> -<p>I am no less surprised at his penetrating eye and his memory for things. I have only -to describe some plant, which to him is but a nameless weed, devoid of the least interest; -and, if it grows in our woods, I feel pretty sure that he will bring it to me and -tell me the spot where I can pick it for myself. The botany of the infinitesimal even -does not foil his perspicacity. To complete my already-published work on the Sphæriaceæ -of Vaucluse, I resume my patient herborizing with the lens during the bad weather, -the insect’s slack time. When the frost hardens the ground, when the rains reduce -it to slush, I take Favier away from his work in the garden to scour the woods with -me; and there, in the tangle of some bramble-bush, we hunt together for those microscopic -growths which speckle with black dots the tiny branches strewn all over the soil. -He calls the largest species ‘gunpowder,’ an accurate expression which has already -been used by the botanists to describe one of those Sphæriaceæ. He feels quite proud -of his bunch of discoveries, which is richer than mine. When he lights upon a magnificent -rosellinia, a mass of black pustules <span class="pageNum" id="pb329">[<a href="#pb329">329</a>]</span>wrapped in a purplish down, we smoke a pipe to celebrate the joyous occasion. -</p> -<p>He excels, above all things, in ridding me of the troublesome folk whom I meet upon -my rambles. The peasant is naturally curious, as fond of asking questions as a child; -but his curiosity is flavoured with a spice of malice and in all his questions there -is an undercurrent of chaff. What he fails to understand he turns into ridicule. And -what can be more ludicrous than a gentleman looking through a glass at a Fly captured -with a gauze net, or a bit of rotten wood picked up from the ground? Favier cuts short -the bantering catechism with a word. -</p> -<p>We were hunting along the ground, step by step, with bent backs, for some of the evidences -of prehistoric times that abound on the south side of the mountain: serpentine-stone -axes, black potsherds, flint arrow-heads and spear-heads, flakes, side-scrapers, cores. -</p> -<p>‘What does your master do with those ‘<i lang="fr">payrards</i>?’<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2802src" href="#xd31e2802">2</a> asked a new arrival. -</p> -<p>‘He makes them into putty for the glaziers,’ replied Favier, with an air of solemn -assurance. -</p> -<p>Another time, I had just gathered a handful of Rabbit-droppings in which the magnifying-glass -had shown me a cryptogamous growth worthy of further inspection. Up comes an <span class="pageNum" id="pb330">[<a href="#pb330">330</a>]</span>inquisitive person who has seen me carefully packing the precious windfall in a paper -bag. He suspects a money-making business, some crazy trade or other. Everything, to -the countryman, is translatable into terms of francs and sous. In his eyes, I am making -a steady income out of these Rabbit-droppings. -</p> -<p>‘What does your master do with those <i lang="fr">pétourles</i>?’<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2816src" href="#xd31e2816">3</a> he asks Favier, in ingratiating tones. -</p> -<p>‘He distils them to extract the essential oils,’ replies my man, with magnificent -self-possession. -</p> -<p>Stunned by this revelation, the questioner turns his back and goes away. -</p> -<p>But let us waste no more time with the waggish old soldier and his smart repartees -and let us rather come to what was attracting my attention in the <i>harmas</i> laboratory. Some Ammophilæ were exploring on foot, with brief intervals of flight, -both the grass and the bare patches of ground. I had seen them as early as the middle -of March, when a fine day made its appearance, warming themselves luxuriously in the -dusty paths. All belonged to the same species, the Hairy Ammophila (<i lang="la">A. hirsuta</i>, <span class="sc">Kirb.</span>). I have already written of the hibernation of this Ammophila and her venery in mid-spring, -at a period when the other Hunting <span class="pageNum" id="pb331">[<a href="#pb331">331</a>]</span>Wasps are still imprisoned in their cocoons; I have described her manner of operating -on the caterpillar destined for her grub; I have told of the repeated stings of her -dart, distributed over the different nerve-centres. This scientific vivisection I -had as yet observed but once; and I longed to see it again. Something might have escaped -me on the first occasion, when a long walk had tired me; and, even if I had really -seen everything correctly, it was advisable to witness the performance a second time, -so as to establish its authenticity beyond all doubt. I may add that one would never -weary of the spectacle, even if it were repeated a hundred times over. -</p> -<p>I therefore watched my Ammophilæ from the moment of their first appearance; and, as -I had them here, within my precincts, only a few steps from my door, I could not fail -to catch them hunting, provided that my assiduity were not relaxed. The end of March -and the whole of April were spent in vain waiting, either because the moment of nidification -had not yet come, or, more probably, because my vigilance was at fault. At last, on -the 17th of May, a lucky chance presented itself. -</p> -<p>A few Ammophilæ strike me as very busy: suppose we follow one of them, more active -than the rest. I detect her giving a last sweep <span class="pageNum" id="pb332">[<a href="#pb332">332</a>]</span>of the rake to her burrow, on the smooth, hard path, before introducing her caterpillar, -which, already paralysed, must have been abandoned by the huntress, for the time being, -a few yards away from the home. The cave is pronounced spick and span, the doorway -deemed sufficiently wide to admit a bulky prey; and the Ammophila sets off in search -of her captive. She finds it easily. It is a Grey Worm, lying on the ground; and the -Ants have already invaded it. This prize, for which the Ants contend with her, is -scorned by the huntress. Many predatory Wasps, who temporarily leave their prisoner -to go and complete the burrow, or even to begin it, lodge their game high up, on a -tuft of verdure, to place it beyond the reach of plunderers. The Ammophila is familiar -with this prudent practice; but perhaps she has omitted to take the precaution, or -else the heavy prize has fallen to the ground, and now the Ants are tugging in eager -rivalry at the sumptuous fare. To drive away those pilferers is impossible: for one -sent to the right-about, ten would return to the attack. So the Wasp seems to think; -for, realizing the invasion, she resumes her hunting, without indulging in useless -strife. -</p> -<p>The quest takes place within a radius of ten yards from the nest. The Ammophila explores -<span class="pageNum" id="pb333">[<a href="#pb333">333</a>]</span>the soil on foot, little by little, without hurrying; she lashes the ground continually -with her antennæ curved like a bow. The bare soil, the pebbly bits, the grassy parts -are visited without distinction. For nearly three hours, in the heat of the sun, in -sultry weather which means rain to-morrow and a few drops to-night, I watch the Ammophila’s -search, without taking my eyes from her for a second. What a difficult thing a Grey -Worm is to find, for a Wasp who needs it just at that moment! -</p> -<p>It is no less difficult for man. The reader knows my method of witnessing the surgical -operation to which a Hunting Wasp subjects her prey, with a view to giving her grubs -flesh that is lifeless but not dead. I rob the marauder of her spoil and, in exchange, -give her a live prey, similar to her own. I was arranging the same manœuvre with regard -to the Ammophila, so that, after she had smitten her caterpillar, which she was bound -to find at any moment now, I might make her perform the operation a second time. I -was therefore in urgent need of a few Grey Worms. -</p> -<p>Favier was there, gardening. I called out to him: -</p> -<p>‘Come here, quick; I want some Grey Worms!’ -</p> -<p>I explain the thing to him; for that matter, <span class="pageNum" id="pb334">[<a href="#pb334">334</a>]</span>he has known all about it for some time. I have talked to him of my little creatures -and the caterpillars which they hunt; he has a general knowledge of the habits of -the insect which I am studying. He understands at once and goes in search. He digs -at the foot of the lettuces, he scrapes among the strawberry-beds, he inspects the -iris-borders. I know his sharp eyes and his intelligence; I have every confidence -in him. Meanwhile, time passes. -</p> -<p>‘Well, Favier? Where’s that Grey Worm?’ -</p> -<p>‘I can’t find one, sir.’ -</p> -<p>‘Bother! Then come to the rescue, you others! Claire, Aglaé, all of you! Hurry up, -hunt and find!’ -</p> -<p>The whole family is brought into requisition. All its members display an activity -worthy of the serious events at hand. I myself, chained to my post lest I should lose -sight of the Ammophila, keep one eye upon the huntress and with the other watch for -Grey Worms. Nothing turns up: three hours pass and not one of us has found the caterpillar. -</p> -<p>The Ammophila does not find it either. I see her hunting with some persistency in -spots where the earth is slightly cracked. The insect wears itself out in clearing -operations; with a mighty effort it removes lumps of dry earth the size of an apricot-stone. -Those spots are soon <span class="pageNum" id="pb335">[<a href="#pb335">335</a>]</span>abandoned, however. Then a suspicion comes to me: the fact that there are four or -five of us vainly hunting for a Grey Worm does not prove that the Ammophila is troubled -with the same want of skill. Where man is helpless, the insect often triumphs. The -exquisite delicacy of perception that guides it cannot leave it at a loss for hours -together. Perhaps the Grey Worm, foreseeing the gathering storm, has dug its way lower -down. The huntress very well knows where it lies, but cannot extract it from its deep -hiding-place. When she abandons a spot after a few attempts, it is not for want of -sagacity, but for want of the requisite power of digging. Wherever the Ammophila scratches, -there must a Grey Worm be: the place is abandoned because the work of extraction is -admittedly beyond her strength. It was very stupid of me not to have thought of it -earlier. Would such an experienced poacher pay any attention to a place where there -is really nothing? What nonsense! -</p> -<p>I thereupon resolve to come to her assistance. The insect, at this moment, is digging -a tilled and absolutely bare spot. It leaves the place, as it has already done with -so many others. I myself continue the work, with the blade of a knife. I do not find -anything either; and I retire. The insect comes back and again begins <span class="pageNum" id="pb336">[<a href="#pb336">336</a>]</span>to scratch at a certain part of my excavations. I understand: -</p> -<p>‘Get out of that, you clumsy fellow!’ the Hymenopteron seems to say. ‘I’ll show you -where the thing lives!’ -</p> -<p>Upon her indications I dig at the required spot and unearth a Grey Worm. Well done, -my canny Ammophila! Did I not say that you would never have raked at an empty burrow? -</p> -<p>Henceforth, it is like a hunt for truffles, which the Dog points out and the man extracts. -I continue on the same system, the Ammophila showing me the place and I digging with -the knife. I thus obtain a second Grey Worm, followed by a third and a fourth. The -exhumation is always effected at bare spots that have been turned by the pitchfork -a few months earlier. There is absolutely nothing to denote the presence of the caterpillar -from without. Well, Favier, Claire, Aglaé and the rest of you, what have you to say? -In three hours you have not been able to dig me up a single Grey Worm, whereas this -clever huntress supplies me with as many as I want, once that I have thought of coming -to her assistance! -</p> -<p>I have now plenty of spare pieces; let us leave the huntress her fifth prize, which -she unearths with my help. I will set forth in numbered paragraphs the various acts -of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb337">[<a href="#pb337">337</a>]</span>gorgeous drama that passes before my eyes. The observation is made under the most -favourable conditions: I am lying on the ground, close to the slaughterer, and not -one detail escapes me. -</p> -<p>1. The Ammophila seizes the caterpillar by the back of the neck with the curved pincers -of her mandibles. The Grey Worm struggles violently, rolling and unrolling its contorted -body. The Wasp remains quite unconcerned: she stands aside and thus avoids the shocks. -Her sting strikes the joint between the first segment and the head, on the median -ventral line, at a spot where the skin is more delicate. The dart stays in the wound -with some persistency. This, it appears, is the essential blow, which will master -the Grey Worm and make it more easy to handle. -</p> -<p>2. The Ammophila now quits her prey. She flattens herself on the ground, with wild, -disordered movements, rolling on her side, twitching and dangling her limbs, fluttering -her wings, as though in danger of death. I fear lest the huntress may have received -a nasty wound in the contest. I am overcome with emotion at seeing the plucky Wasp -finish so piteously, at seeing the experiment that has cost me so many hours of waiting -end in failure. But suddenly the Ammophila recovers, smooths her wings, <span class="pageNum" id="pb338">[<a href="#pb338">338</a>]</span>curls her antennæ and returns briskly to the attack. What I had taken for the convulsions -of approaching death was the frenzied enthusiasm of victory. The Wasp was congratulating -herself on the manner in which she had floored the enemy. -</p> -<p>3. The operator grips the caterpillar by the skin of the back, a little lower than -before, and pricks the second segment, still on the ventral surface. I then see her -gradually recoiling along the Grey Worm, each time seizing the back a little lower -down, clasping it with the mandibles, those wide pincers with the curved jaws, and -each time driving the sting into the next segment. This recoil of the insect and this -gradual clasping of the back, a little farther down on each occasion, are effected -with methodical precision, as though the huntress were measuring her prey. At each -step backward the dart stings the following segment. In this way are wounded the three -thoracic segments, with the true legs; the next two segments, which are legless; and -the four segments with the pro-legs. In all, nine stings. The last four segments are -disregarded: they consist of three without legs and the last, or thirteenth, with -pro-legs. The operation is accomplished without serious difficulty: after the first -prick of the needle, the Grey Worm offers but a feeble resistance. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb339">[<a href="#pb339">339</a>]</span></p> -<p>4. Lastly, the Ammophila, opening the forceps of her mandibles to their full width, -seizes the caterpillar’s head and crunches it, squeezes it with a series of leisurely -movements, without creating a wound. These squeezings follow upon one another with -deliberate slowness: the insect seems to try each time to learn the effect produced; -it stops, waits, and then resumes the attack. This manipulation of the brain, to attain -the desired end, must have certain limits which, if exceeded, would bring about death -and speedy putrefaction. And so the Wasp regulates the force of her compressions, -which, moreover, are numerous: about a score, in all. -</p> -<p>The surgeon has finished. The patient lies on the ground on its side, half doubled -up. It is motionless, lifeless, incapable of resistance during the traction-process -that is to bring it home, unable to harm the grub that is to feed upon it. The Ammophila -leaves it at the place where the operation was performed and goes back to her nest. -I follow her. She makes certain improvements in view of the coming storage. A pebble -projecting from the roof might impede the warehousing of the bulky quarry. The lump -is forthwith removed. A rustle of grazed wings accompanies the arduous task. The back-room -is not large enough: it is widened. The work is long-drawn-out; and <span class="pageNum" id="pb340">[<a href="#pb340">340</a>]</span>the caterpillar, which I have neglected to watch, lest I should miss any of the Wasp’s -doings, is invaded by the Ants. When the Ammophila and I return to it, it is black -all over with busy carvers. This is a regrettable incident for me and a grievous event -for the Ammophila; for it is the second time that she has met with the same mishap. -</p> -<p>The insect appears discouraged. In vain I replace the caterpillar by one of my reserve -of Grey Worms: the Ammophila scorns the substituted prey. Besides, evening is drawing -in, the sky has clouded, there are even a few drops of rain falling. In these circumstances -it is needless to look for a renewal of the chase. Everything, therefore, ends, without -my being able to use my Grey Worms as I had proposed. -</p> -<p>This observation kept me engaged, without a moment’s respite, from one o’clock in -the afternoon until six o’clock in the evening. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb341">[<a href="#pb341">341</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2731"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2731src">1</a></span> The piece of waste ground on which the author used to study his insects in their natural -state. Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. i.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2731src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2802"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2802src">2</a></span> Gun-flints.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2802src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2816"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2816src">3</a></span> The local expression.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2816src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch19" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e433">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xix</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">AN UNKNOWN SENSE</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have described the Ammophila’s hunting tactics in detail. The facts which I ascertained -seem to me so rich in results that, even if the <i>harmas</i> laboratory supplied me with nothing more, I should think myself indemnified by this -one observation. The surgical methods adopted by the Wasp with the object of paralysing -the Grey Worm are the highest manifestation in the realm of instinct that I have hitherto -met. This inborn science is eminently calculated to give us food for thought. What -a subtle logician, what an unerring operator is that unconscious physiologist, the -Ammophila! -</p> -<p>He who would witness these marvels for himself can hardly count on what a country -walk may happen to show him; besides, if the lucky opportunity did present itself, -he would not have time to profit by it. An observation, which I kept up for five hours -on end, without even then managing to complete the experiment and obtain the proofs -which I anticipated, <span class="pageNum" id="pb342">[<a href="#pb342">342</a>]</span>is one that, to be properly conducted, should be made at leisure in one’s own garden. -I owe my success, therefore, to my rustic laboratory. I make a present of the secret -to whosoever would continue those magnificent studies: the harvest is inexhaustible; -there will be sheaves for all. -</p> -<p>When we follow the Ammophila’s hunting in the due sequence of her actions, the first -question that suggests itself is this: how does the Wasp go to work to recognize the -spot beneath which the Grey Worm lies? -</p> -<p>There is nothing outside, nothing, at least, perceptible to the eye, to indicate the -caterpillar’s hiding-place. The soil that conceals the quarry may be grassy or bare, -flinty or earthy, smooth or seamed with little cracks. These varieties of appearance -are matters of indifference to the huntress, who prospects every spot without showing -preference for one more than another. At no place where the Wasp stops and digs with -some persistency do I see anything particular, in spite of all my attention; and yet -there must be a Grey Worm there, as I have but now convinced myself, five times in -succession, by lending a helping hand to the insect, which was at first discouraged -by a task out of proportion to its strength. Sight, therefore, is certainly out of -the question here. -</p> -<p>What sense, then? That of touch? Let us <span class="pageNum" id="pb343">[<a href="#pb343">343</a>]</span>inquire. Everything tells us that the organs of search are the antennæ. With their -tips, bent like a bow and quivering with a continual vibration, the insect tests the -ground, giving a number of little taps. When some crack shows, the restless threads -enter and sound it; when some grass-tuft spreads its tangled root-stock along the -ground, the quivering of the antennæ redoubles as they grope among its knots and angles. -Their tips are applied for an instant to the spot explored, moulding themselves, so -to speak, upon it. They suggest two tactile filaments, two long fingers of incomparable -mobility, which gather information by feeling. But the sense of touch can play no -part in revealing what is underground: the thing to be felt is the Grey Worm; and -the worm is lying snug in its burrow, at a depth of some inches below the surface. -</p> -<p>We thereupon turn our thoughts to the faculty of scent. Insects, there is no denying, -possess the sense of smell, often very highly developed. The Necrophori,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2908src" href="#xd31e2908">1</a> the Silphæ,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2912src" href="#xd31e2912">2</a> the Histers,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2916src" href="#xd31e2916">3</a> the Dermestes<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2920src" href="#xd31e2920">4</a> hasten from every side to the spot where lies a little corpse of which <span class="pageNum" id="pb344">[<a href="#pb344">344</a>]</span>the ground is to be purged. Guided by scent, these grave-diggers hurry towards the -dead Mole. -</p> -<p>But, while the presence of the olfactory sense in insects is indisputable, we still -ask ourselves where it is seated. Many declare that the seat is in the antennæ. Let -us admit this, though it is difficult to understand how a rod consisting of horny -segments, jointed end to end, can fulfil the office of a nostril which is so very -differently constructed. The organization of one apparatus having naught in common -with the other, can the impressions received by both be of the same nature? When tools -are dissimilar, do their functions remain alike? -</p> -<p>Besides, there are grave objections in the case of our Wasp. Smell is a passive rather -than an active sense; it does not, like touch, anticipate the impression: it receives -it; it does not inquire after the scented effluvium: it accepts it when it comes. -Now the Ammophila’s antennæ are always moving: they investigate, they anticipate the -impression. The impression of what? If it were really an impression of smell, repose -would serve them better than a perpetual quivering. -</p> -<p>But there is more to be said: the olfactory sense goes for nothing when there is no -smell. Now I have tested the Grey Worm for myself; <span class="pageNum" id="pb345">[<a href="#pb345">345</a>]</span>I have given it to young nostrils to sniff, nostrils much more sensitive than mine: -not one of us has perceived the faintest trace of smell in the caterpillar. When the -Dog, famed for his scent, becomes aware of the truffle underground, he is guided by -the tuber’s savour, which is highly appreciable by ourselves, even through the thickness -of the soil. I admit that the Dog has a more subtle sense of smell than we have: it -is exercised at greater distances, it receives more vivid and lasting impressions; -nevertheless, it is impressed by odorous effluvia which becomes perceptible to our -own nostrils under the proper conditions of proximity. -</p> -<p>I will allow the Ammophila, if you like, a scent as delicate as that of the Dog, more -delicate even; but still a smell is needed; and I ask myself how that which is inodorous -at the very entrance to our nostrils can be odoriferous to an insect through the intervening -obstacle of the ground. The senses, if they have the same functions, have the same -excitants, from man to the Infusoria. No animal, so far as I know, can see clearly -in what to us is absolute darkness. True, it may be said that, in the zoological progression, -perception, always fundamentally the same, has varying degrees of power: this species -is capable of more and that species of less; what is perceptible to one is imperceptible -<span class="pageNum" id="pb346">[<a href="#pb346">346</a>]</span>to another. This is perfectly right; and yet the insect, generally considered, does -not appear to possess exceptional keenness of scent: the effluvia that attract it -are perceived without a sense of smell of unusual delicacy. When Dermestes, Silphæ -and Histers pour into the chalice of a carrion-scented arum lily, never to come out -again; when swarms of Flies buzz around a dead Dog’s blue and swollen belly, the whole -neighbourhood reeks with the stench. It hardly requires a scent of exquisite accuracy -on the insect’s part to discover putrid meat and rotten cheese. Wherever we see its -hordes gather, with scent for their undoubted guide, we ourselves are cognizant of -a smell. -</p> -<p>There remains hearing. This is another sense about which entomologists are not adequately -informed. Where is its seat? In the antennæ, we are told. Those fine, quivering stalks -would seem fairly well suited to be put in motion under the impulse of sound. In that -case the Ammophila, exploring the region with her antennæ, would be warned of the -presence of the Grey Worm by a slight noise coming up from the ground, the noise of -the mandibles nibbling a root, the noise of the caterpillar wriggling its hind-quarters. -What a faint sound and how difficult to transmit through the spongy cushion of the -earth! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb347">[<a href="#pb347">347</a>]</span></p> -<p>It is less than faint, it is non-existent. The Grey Worm is nocturnal in its habits. -By day it skulks in its lair and does not stir. It does not nibble either; at least, -the Grey Worms which I unearthed upon the Wasp’s indications were nibbling nothing, -for the very simple reason that they had nothing to nibble. They were completely motionless -and therefore silent in a layer of earth devoid of roots. The sense of hearing must -be rejected with that of smell. -</p> -<p>The question recurs, more abstruse than ever. How does the Ammophila go to work to -recognize the spot beneath which the Grey Worm lies? The antennæ are, beyond a doubt, -the organs that guide her. They do not, in this case, act as olfactory instruments, -unless we admit that their dry and tough surface, which has none of the delicate structure -required for the ordinary sense of smell, is nevertheless capable of perceiving scents -that are non-existent to us. This would be equivalent to admitting that coarse tools -tend to perfection of work. Nor do they act as instruments of hearing, for there is -no sound to be discerned. What then is their function? I do not know and I despair -of ever knowing. -</p> -<p>Inclined as we are—and it could not well be otherwise—to judge all things by our standard, -the only one in any way known to us, we <span class="pageNum" id="pb348">[<a href="#pb348">348</a>]</span>attribute to animals our own means of perception and do not dream that they might -easily possess others of which it is impossible for us to have an exact idea because -there is nothing like them in ourselves. Are we quite certain that they are not equipped, -in very varying degrees, for the purpose of sensations as foreign to ourselves as -the sensation of colours would be if we were blind? Has matter no secrets left for -us? Are we so very sure that it is revealed to the living being only by light, sound, -taste, smell and touch? Physics and chemistry, young though they be, already declare -to us that the dark unknown contains an enormous harvest, in comparison with which -our scientific sheaf is the merest penury. A new sense, perhaps that which dwells -in the grotesquely exaggerated nose of the Rhinolophus,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2946src" href="#xd31e2946">5</a> perhaps that which dwells in the antennæ of the Ammophila, would open to our search -a world which our physical structure no doubt condemns us to leave for ever unexplored. -Cannot certain properties of matter, which have no perceptible action upon us, find -a receptive echo in animals, which are differently equipped? -</p> -<p>When Spallanzani,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2952src" href="#xd31e2952">6</a> after blinding some Bats, <span class="pageNum" id="pb349">[<a href="#pb349">349</a>]</span>released them in a room converted into a maze by means of cords stretched in every -direction and of heaped-up brambles, how were those animals able to find their way -about, to fly quickly, to move to and fro, from end to end of the room, without hitting -the interposed articles? What sense analogous to any of ours guided them? Would some -one tell me and, above all, make me understand? I should also like to understand how -the Ammophila infallibly finds her caterpillar’s burrow with the aid of her antennæ. -It is not a case of the sense of smell: we should have to presume it to possess an -unparalleled delicacy, while recognizing that it is exercised by an organ in which -no provision seems made for the perception of smells. -</p> -<p>What a number of other incomprehensible things do we not ascribe to the insect’s sense -of smell! We are satisfied with a word: the explanation is ready-found, without laborious -search. But, if we care to consider the matter thoroughly, if we compare the requisite -array of facts, then the cliff of the unknown rises abruptly, not to be climbed by -the path which we insist on following. Let us then change our path and admit that -animals may have other means of information than our own. Our senses do not represent -the sum total of the methods <span class="pageNum" id="pb350">[<a href="#pb350">350</a>]</span>whereby an animal communicates with that which is not itself: there are others not -capable of comparison, however remote, with those which we possess. -</p> -<p>If the act of the Ammophila were an isolated fact, I should not have lingered over -it as I have done; but I propose to speak of others stranger still, which will carry -conviction to the most exacting mind. After relating them, therefore, I shall return -to the subject of special senses, irreducible senses, unknown to us. -</p> -<p>For the moment, let us go back to the Grey Worm, which it would be as well for us -to know in a less casual fashion. I have four of them, dug up with the knife at the -spots indicated by the Ammophila. My intention was to substitute them, by turns, for -the doomed victim, so as to see the Wasp’s operation repeated. When my plan failed, -I placed the worms in a glass jar, with a layer of earth and a lettuce-stalk above -them. By day, my captives remained buried in the earth; at night, they came up to -the surface, where I caught them gnawing at the salad from below. In August, they -dug deep down, not to come up again, and fashioned themselves a cocoon apiece of earth, -very rough on the outer surface, oval in shape and the size of a small pigeon’s egg. -The moth appeared at the end of the same month. I <span class="pageNum" id="pb351">[<a href="#pb351">351</a>]</span>recognized the Dart or Turnip Moth (<i lang="la">Noctua segetum</i>, <span class="sc">Hübn.</span>). -</p> -<p>The Hairy Ammophila, therefore, feeds her grubs on the caterpillars of Noctuæ; and -her choice falls exclusively on the species that live underground. These caterpillars, -commonly known as Grey Worms, because of their drab garb, are a most formidable scourge -to agricultural crops, as well as to garden produce. Curled in their burrows by day, -they climb to the surface at night and gnaw the base or collar of the herbaceous plants. -Everything suits them: ornamental plants and edible plants alike. Flower-beds, market-gardens, -fields are laid waste without distinction. When a seedling withers without apparent -cause, draw it to you gently; and the dying plant will come up, but maimed, severed -from its root. The Grey Worm has passed that way in the night; its greedy mandibles -have performed the deadly amputation. Its havoc rivals that wrought by the White Worm, -the grub of the Cockchafer. When it swarms in a beet-country, the damage amounts to -millions. This is the terrible enemy against which the Ammophila comes to our aid. -</p> -<p>I point out and urgently recommend to agriculturalists this valuable auxiliary, so -zealous in her search of the Grey Worm in spring, so skilful in discovering its hiding-place. -An <span class="pageNum" id="pb352">[<a href="#pb352">352</a>]</span>Ammophila in a garden may mean the saving of a lettuce-bed, the snatching of a balsam-border -from danger. But there is need here for recommendations. None would dream of destroying -the pretty Wasp that goes fluttering nimbly from one path to the other, that visits -this corner of the garden, then that, then the next, then the one over there; none -dreams either—and none, unfortunately, can dream—of assisting her to multiply. -</p> -<p>In the immense majority of cases the insect evades our influence: to exterminate it, -if it be harmful, to propagate it, if it be useful, are impracticable undertakings -for us. By a singular contrast of strength and weakness, man cuts through the neck -of continents to join two seas, he pierces the Alps, he weighs the sun; and yet he -cannot prevent a wretched maggot from enjoying his cherries before he himself does, -nor an odious Louse from destroying his vines! The Titan is vanquished by the pigmy. -</p> -<p>Now we have here, in this insect-world, an auxiliary of high merit, the supreme foe -of our grievous foe the Grey Worm. Can we do anything to stock our fields and gardens -with it at will? We cannot; for the first condition of multiplying the Ammophila would -be to multiply the Grey Worm, the only food of her family of grubs. I do not speak -of the insurmountable <span class="pageNum" id="pb353">[<a href="#pb353">353</a>]</span>difficulties which this breeding would present. We have not to do with the Bee, who -is faithful to her hive, because of her social habits; still less with the stupid -Silkworm, perched on its mulberry-leaf, or its clumsy Moth, who for a moment flutters -her wings, pairs, lays her eggs and dies: we have to do with an insect that is capricious -in its wanderings, swift of flight and independent in its ways. -</p> -<p>Besides, the first condition shatters all our hopes. Would we have the helpful Ammophila? -Then we must resign ourselves to accepting the Grey Worm. We move in a vicious circle: -to produce good we must invoke the aid of evil. The hostile band brings the friendly -troop to our fields; but the second cannot live without the first; and the two show -an even balance in numbers. If the Grey Worm abound, the Ammophila finds copious provender -for her grubs and her race prospers; if the Grey Worm be rare, the Ammophila’s offspring -decrease and disappear. This balance between prosperity and decadence is the immutable -law that governs the proportions between devourers and devoured. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb354">[<a href="#pb354">354</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2908"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2908src">1</a></span> Burying-beetles.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2908src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2912"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2912src">2</a></span> Carrion-beetles.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2912src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2916"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2916src">3</a></span> Mimic-beetles.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2916src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2920"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2920src">4</a></span> Bacon-beetles.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2920src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2946"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2946src">5</a></span> The Horseshoe Bat.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2946src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2952"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2952src">6</a></span> Lazaro Spallanzani (1729–1799), the great Italian naturalist.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2952src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch20" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e441">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label"><i>Chapter xx</i></h2> -<h2 class="main">THE MODERN THEORY OF INSTINCT</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The larvæ of the various Hunting Wasps require their prey to be incapable of movement, -so that there may be no resistance on the victim’s part, which would be a source of -danger to the fragile egg and, later, to the grub. Moreover, for all its lethargy, -it must still be alive; for the grub would refuse to feed on a corpse. The fare provided -must be fresh meat and not preserved stuff. I have already laid stress on these two -antagonistic conditions, immobility and life, and enlarged on them so fully that I -need hardly dwell upon them for a second time. I have shown how the Wasp realizes -them by the medium of a paralysis which destroys movement and leaves the organic principle -of life intact. With a skill which our most famous vivisectors would envy, the insect -drives its poisoned sting into the nerve-centres, the seat of muscular incitation. -The operator confines herself to one stroke of the lancet, or else gives two, three -or more, according to the structure <span class="pageNum" id="pb355">[<a href="#pb355">355</a>]</span>of the particular nervous system and to the number and grouping of the ganglia. The -course of the sting is determined by the exact anatomy of the victim. -</p> -<p>The particular prey of the Hairy Ammophila is a caterpillar, each of whose nerve-centres, -which are distant one from the other and to a certain extent independent in their -action, occupies a different segment of the insect. This caterpillar, who is a very -lively customer, cannot be stored in the cell, with the Wasp’s egg upon his flank, -until he has lost all his power of motion. One movement of his body would crush that -egg against the wall of the cell. -</p> -<p>Now the paralysis of one segment would not mean that the next was also rendered incapable -of movement, because of the comparative independence of the seats of innervation. -It is necessary, therefore, that all the segments, or at least the most important, -be operated on, one after the other, from the first to the last. The course which -the Ammophila adopts is that which the most experienced of physiologists would recommend: -her sting is transferred from one segment to the next, nine separate times over. -</p> -<p>She does better than that. The victim’s head is still unscathed, the mandibles are -at <span class="pageNum" id="pb356">[<a href="#pb356">356</a>]</span>work: they might easily, as the insect is borne along, grip some bit of straw in the -ground and successfully resist this forcible removal; the brain, the primary nervous -centre, might provoke a stubborn contest, which would be very awkward with so heavy -a burden. It is well that these hitches should be avoided. The caterpillar, therefore, -must be reduced to a state of torpor which will deprive him of the least inclination -for self-defence. The Ammophila succeeds in effecting this by munching his head. She -takes good care not to use her needle: she is no clumsy bungler and knows quite well -that to inflict a mortal wound on the cervical ganglia would mean killing the caterpillar -then and there, the very thing to be avoided. She merely squeezes the brain between -her mandibles, calculating every pinch; and, each time, she stops to ascertain the -effect produced, for there is a nice point to be achieved, a certain degree of torpor -that must not be exceeded, lest death should supervene. In this way the requisite -lethargy is obtained, a somnolence in which all volition is lost. And now the caterpillar, -incapable of resistance, incapable of wishing to resist, is seized by the nape of -the neck and dragged to the nest. Comment would mar the eloquence of such facts as -these. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb357">[<a href="#pb357">357</a>]</span></p> -<p>The Hairy Ammophila has twice allowed me to attend her surgical operations. I have -described in an earlier chapter of this volume my first observation, which dates many -years back. On that occasion I witnessed the performance quite unexpectedly; to-day, -I have made all my preparations and have plenty of time at my disposal, so that I -am able to make a much more thorough observation. In each case there was a multiplicity -of needle-pricks, which were distributed methodically, from front to back, along the -ventral surface. Is the number of stings indeed identical in both cases? This time, -it is exactly nine. In the case of the victim which I saw paralysed on the Plateau -des Angles, it seemed to me that the weapon inflicted more wounds, though I am not -able to state the precise number. It is quite possible that this number varies slightly -and that the last segments of the caterpillar, being much less important than the -others, are attacked or left alone according to the size and strength of the quarry -to be incapacitated. -</p> -<p>On the second occasion, moreover, I had my first view of the squeezing process to -which the caterpillar’s brain is subjected, a process that produces the torpor which -makes the transport and storage of the victim possible. So remarkable a fact would -not have escaped <span class="pageNum" id="pb358">[<a href="#pb358">358</a>]</span>me in the first instance; it did not, therefore, take place. It follows that this -cerebral compression is a resource which the Wasp has at her disposal, for use when -circumstances demand it, as for instance when the victim seems likely to offer resistance -on the road. -</p> -<p>The malaxation of the cervical ganglia is optional: it has no bearing on the future -of the larva; the Wasp practises it, when needful, to facilitate transport. I have -seen the Languedocian Sphex, who gave me so much trouble in the old days, at work -fairly often, but only once has she performed this operation on the neck of her Ephippiger -in my presence. The invariable and absolutely necessary part of the Hairy Ammophila’s -procedure seems therefore to be the multiplicity of stings and their distribution -one by one over all or nearly all the nerve-centres along the median line of the lower -surface. -</p> -<p>Let us place side by side with the murderous art of the Wasp the murderous art of -man, practical man, whose business it is to slay rapidly. I will here recall one of -my childhood’s memories. We were schoolboys of twelve years old, or thereabouts. We -were being instructed in the woes of Melibœus, pouring out his sorrows on the bosom -of Tityrus, who offers him his chestnuts, <span class="pageNum" id="pb359">[<a href="#pb359">359</a>]</span>his sour milk and his bed of fresh bracken;<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3012src" href="#xd31e3012">1</a> we were made to recite a poem by Racine the Younger,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3027src" href="#xd31e3027">2</a> <i lang="fr">La Religion</i>. A curious poem, forsooth, for children who cared more for marbles than theology! -I remember just two lines and a half: -</p> -<div lang="fr" class="lgouter"> -<p class="line xd31e3035"><i>… et, jusque dans la fange,</i> -</p> -<p class="line"><i>L’insecte nous appelle et, certain de son prix,</i> -</p> -<p class="line"><i>Ose nous demander raison de nos mépris.</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3043src" href="#xd31e3043">3</a> -</p> -</div> -<p class="first">Why do these two lines and a half linger in my memory and none of all the rest? Because -already <i>Scarabæus</i> and I were friends. Those two lines and a half bothered me: I thought it a very absurd -idea to relegate you to the mire, ye insects so seemly clad, so elegantly groomed. -I knew the bronze harness of the Carabus, the Russia-leather jerkin of the Stag-beetle; -I knew that the least of you possesses an ebon sheen and gleams of precious metals; -and therefore the mire wherein the poet flung you shocked me somewhat. If M. Racine -Junior had nothing <span class="pageNum" id="pb360">[<a href="#pb360">360</a>]</span>better to say about you, he might as well have held his tongue; but he did not know -you, and in his day there were only just a few who were beginning to have a dim conception -of your nature. -</p> -<p>While going over some passage of the tiresome poem for the next day’s lesson, I would -indulge my fancy for another kind of education. I visited the Linnet in her nest, -on a juniper-bush standing as high as myself; I watched the Jay picking an acorn on -the ground; I came upon the Crayfish, still quite soft after shedding his shell; I -made inquiries as to the exact date when the Cockchafers were due; I went in quest -of the first full-blown Cuckoo-flower. Plants and animals, that wondrous poem of which -a faint echo was beginning to wake in my young brain, made a very pleasant change -from the uninspiring alexandrine. The problem of life and that other one, with its -dark terrors, the problem of death, at times passed through my mind. It was a fleeting -obsession, soon forgotten by the mercurial spirits of youth. Nevertheless, the tremendous -question would recur, brought to mind by this incident or that. -</p> -<p>Passing one day by a slaughter-house, I saw an Ox driven in by the butcher. I have -always had an insurmountable horror of blood; when <span class="pageNum" id="pb361">[<a href="#pb361">361</a>]</span>I was a boy, the sight of an open wound affected me so much that I would fall into -a swoon, which on more than one occasion nearly cost me my life. How did I screw up -courage to set foot in those shambles? No doubt, the dread problem of death urged -me on. At any rate, I entered, close on the heels of the Ox. -</p> -<p>With a stout rope round its horns, wet-muzzled, meek-eyed, the animal moves along -as though making for the crib in its stable. The man walks ahead, holding the rope. -We enter the hall of death, amid the sickening stench thrown up by the entrails scattered -over the ground and the pools of blood. The Ox becomes aware that this is not his -stable; his eyes turn red with terror; he struggles; he tries to escape. But an iron -ring is there, in the floor, firmly fixed to a stone flag. The man passes the rope -through it and hauls. The Ox lowers his head; his muzzle touches the ground. While -an assistant keeps him in this position with the rope, the butcher takes a knife with -a pointed blade, not at all a formidable knife, hardly larger than the one which I -myself carry in my breeches-pocket. For a moment he feels with his fingers at the -back of the animal’s neck and then drives in the blade at the chosen spot. The great -beast gives a shiver and drops, as <span class="pageNum" id="pb362">[<a href="#pb362">362</a>]</span>though struck by lightning: <i lang="la">procumbit humi bos</i>, as we used to say in those days. -</p> -<p>I fled from the place like one possessed. Afterwards I wondered how it was possible, -with a knife almost identical with that which I used for prizing open my walnuts and -taking the skin off my chestnuts, with that insignificant blade, to kill an Ox and -kill him so suddenly. No gaping wound, no blood spilt, not a bellow from the animal. -The man feels with his finger, gives a jab and the thing is done: the Bullock’s legs -double up under him. -</p> -<p>This instantaneous death, this lightning-stroke, remained an awesome mystery to me. -It was only later, very much later, that I learnt the secret of the slaughter-house, -at a time when, in the course of my promiscuous reading, I was picking up a smattering -of anatomy. The man had cut through the spinal marrow where it leaves the skull; he -had severed what our physiologists have called the vital cord. To-day I might say -that he had operated in the manner of the Wasps, whose lancet plunges into the nerve-centres. -</p> -<p>Let us watch this spectacle a second time, under more exciting conditions: I mean, -in the <i lang="es">saladeiros</i> of South America, those immense establishments for killing and treating meat, where -they slaughter as many as twelve hundred <span class="pageNum" id="pb363">[<a href="#pb363">363</a>]</span>Oxen a day. I will quote the account of an eye-witness:<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3082src" href="#xd31e3082">4</a> -</p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">‘The cattle arrive in large herds and the <i lang="es">matance</i> begins on the day after the arrival. A whole herd is confined in an enclosed space, -or <i lang="es">margueira</i>. From time to time men on horseback drive fifty or sixty beasts into a narrower and -stronger enclosure, with a sloping floor of brick, boards or concrete, which is always -very slippery. A special operator, standing on an outer platform which runs along -the wall of the smaller <i lang="es">margueira</i>, lassoes one of the crowd of animals by the head or, more often, by the horns. The -middle portion of the long, stout lasso is coiled round a windlass; and a draught-horse, -or sometimes a pair of oxen, drags the lassoed beast along and makes it slide, in -spite of its struggles, right against the windlass, where it is brought up with a -thud and remains without power of movement. -</p> -<p>‘Another assistant, the <i lang="es">desnucador</i>, also standing on the platform, has then but to stick a knife, at the back of the -head, between the occipital bone and the axis; and the paralysed animal topples on -to a trolley in which it is carted off. It is at once thrown on an inclined plane -where <span class="pageNum" id="pb364">[<a href="#pb364">364</a>]</span>other special labourers bleed it and skin it. But, as the injury to the cervical marrow -varies a good deal in position and extent, it often happens that the unfortunate beasts -still retain the motions of the heart and of the respiratory organs; and, in such -cases, they suffer a reaction under the knife; they utter faint sounds of pain and -move their limbs, while already half-flayed and disembowelled. Nothing could be more -painful than the sight of all those animals skinned alive, cut up and transformed -by those men, covered with blood, who run about in all directions.’</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>The murderous methods of the <i lang="es">saladeiro</i> are an exact repetition of what I had seen in the slaughter-house. In both these -lethal work-shops they pierce the vertebral marrow at the base of the skull. The Ammophila -operates in a similar fashion, with this difference, that her surgery is much more -complex, much more difficult, because of the peculiar organization of her victim. -The honours are on her side again when we consider the delicacy of the result obtained. -Her caterpillar is not a corpse, like the Ox whose spinal cord is cut; it is alive, -but incapable of movement. The insect here is man’s superior in all respects. -</p> -<p>Now how did the butcher of our parts and <span class="pageNum" id="pb365">[<a href="#pb365">365</a>]</span>the <i lang="es">desnucador</i> of the pampas light upon the idea of plunging a knife into the seat of the marrow, -in order to produce the sudden death of a colossus which would never suffer its throat -to be cut without first offering a dangerous resistance? Outside those in the trade -and men of science, nobody knows or suspects the lightning result of that particular -wound; we are almost all in the same state of ignorance on this subject in which I -myself was when my childish curiosity drew me into the killing-shed. The <i lang="es">desnucador</i> and the butcher have learnt their craft from the teachings of tradition and example: -they have had masters; and these were brought up in the school of other masters, harking -back by a chain of linked traditions to him who, served, no doubt, by some hazard -of the chase, first realized the tremendous effects of a wound in the nape of the -neck. Who shall tell us that a pointed flint-stone, driven by accident into the spinal -marrow of the Reindeer or the Mammoth, did not rouse the attention of the <i lang="es">desnucador’s</i> forerunner? A casual incident furnished the original idea; observation confirmed -it; reflection matured it; tradition preserved it; example disseminated it. After -that, the same transmission-current. For generation might follow generation in vain: -deprived of masters, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb366">[<a href="#pb366">366</a>]</span><i lang="es">desnucador’s</i> descendants would return to the primitive state of ignorance. Heredity does not hand -down the art of killing by severing the spinal marrow: no man is born a cattle-slayer -by the <i lang="es">desnucador’s</i> method. -</p> -<p>Now here is the Ammophila, a slayer of caterpillars by a far more cunning method. -Where are the professors of the art of stinging? There are not any. When the Wasp -rends her cocoon and issues from underground, her predecessors have long ceased to -live; she herself will perish without seeing her successors. Once the larder is stocked -and the egg laid, all connection with the offspring ends; this year’s perfect insect -dies while next year’s insect, still in the larval stage, slumbers below ground in -its silken cot. Absolutely nothing, therefore, is transmitted by practical illustration. -The Ammophila is born a finished <i lang="es">desnucador</i> even as we are born feeders at our mother’s breast. The nurseling uses its suction-pump, -the Ammophila her dart, without ever being taught; and both are past masters of the -difficult art from the first attempt. There we have instinct, the unconscious impulse -that forms an essential part of the conditions of life and is handed down by heredity -in the same way as the rhythmic action of the heart and lungs. -</p> -<p>Let us try, if possible, to trace the Ammophila’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb367">[<a href="#pb367">367</a>]</span>instinct to its source. We suffer to-day, more than we ever did, from a mania for -explaining what might well be incapable of explanation. There are some—and their number -seems to increase daily—who settle the stupendous question with magnificent audacity. -Give them half-a-dozen cells, a bit of protoplasm and a diagram for demonstration; -and they will account to you for everything. The organic world, the intellectual and -moral world, everything derives from the original cell, evolving by means of its own -energies. It’s as simple as A B C. Instinct, roused by a chance action that has proved -favourable to the animal, is an acquired habit. And men argue on this basis, invoking -natural selection, heredity, the struggle for life. I see plenty of big words, but -I should prefer a few small facts. These little facts I have been collecting and catechizing -for nearly forty years; and their replies are not exactly in favour of current theories. -</p> -<p>You tell me that instinct is an acquired habit, that a casual circumstance, propitious -to the animal’s offspring, was the first to prompt it. Let us look into the thing -more closely. If I understand aright, we must suppose some Ammophila, in a very remote -past, to have accidentally injured her caterpillar’s nervous centres; to have found -herself the gainer by <span class="pageNum" id="pb368">[<a href="#pb368">368</a>]</span>this operation, both as regards herself, in being released from a struggle not unattended -with danger, and as regards her larva, thus supplied with fresh, living and yet harmless -victuals; and consequently to have endowed her offspring, by heredity, with a natural -tendency to repeat the advantageous device. The maternal legacy did not benefit all -the descendants equally: some were poor hands at the newborn art of the stiletto; -others were adepts. Then came the struggle for existence, the hateful <i lang="la">væ victis</i>! The weak went under, the strong flourished; and, as age succeeded age, selection -by vital competition changed the fleeting impression of the start into a deep-rooted, -ineffaceable impression, exemplified in the masterly instinct which we admire in the -Wasp to-day. -</p> -<p>Well, I avow, in all sincerity, this is asking a little too much of chance. When the -Ammophila first found herself in the presence of her caterpillar, there was nothing, -you would have it, to guide the sting. The choice was made at random. The pricks were -directed at the upper surface of the captured prey, at the lower surface, at the sides, -the front and the back indiscriminately, according to the fortunes of a close struggle. -The Hive-bee and the Social Wasp sting those points which they are <span class="pageNum" id="pb369">[<a href="#pb369">369</a>]</span>able to reach, without showing a preference for one part over the other. That is how -the Ammophila must have acted, when still ignorant of her art. -</p> -<p>Now how many points are there in a Grey Worm, above and below? Mathematical accuracy -would answer, an infinity; a few hundreds will serve our purpose. Of this number, -nine or perhaps more have to be selected; the needle must be inserted there and not -elsewhere: a little higher, a little lower, a little to one side, it would not produce -the desired effect. If the favourable event is a purely accidental result, how many -combinations would be needed to bring it about, how much time to exhaust all the possible -cases? When the difficulty becomes too pressing, you take refuge behind the mist of -the ages; you retreat into the shadows of the past as far as fancy can carry you; -you call upon time, that factor of which we have so little at our disposal and which, -for this very reason, is so well suited to hide our illusions. Here you can let yourselves -go and lavish the centuries. Suppose we shake up hundreds of figures, all of different -values, in an urn and draw nine at random. When shall we, in this way, obtain a sequence -fixed beforehand, a sequence that stands alone? The chance is so slight, answers <span class="pageNum" id="pb370">[<a href="#pb370">370</a>]</span>mathematics, that we may as well put it down as <i>nil</i> and say that the desired arrangement will never come about. For the Ammophila of -the prehistoric age, the attempt was renewed only at long intervals, from one year -to the next. Then how did this sequence of nine stings at nine selected points emerge -from the urn of chance? When I am driven to appeal to infinity in time, I am very -much afraid of running up against absurdity. -</p> -<p>‘But,’ say you, ‘the insect did not attain its present surgical dexterity at the outset: -it went through experiments, apprenticeships, varying degrees of skill. There was -a weeding-out by natural selection, eliminating the less expert, retaining the more -gifted; and instinct, as we know it, developed gradually, thanks to the accumulation -of individual capacities, added to those handed down by heredity.’ -</p> -<p>The argument is erroneous: instinct developed by degrees is flagrantly impossible -in this case. The art of preparing the larva’s provisions allows of none but masters -and suffers no apprentices; the Wasp must excel in it from the outset or leave the -thing alone. Two conditions, in fact, are absolutely essential: that the insect should -be able to drag home and store a quarry which greatly surpasses it in size and strength; -and that the newly-hatched <span class="pageNum" id="pb371">[<a href="#pb371">371</a>]</span>grub should be able to gnaw peacefully, in its narrow cell, a live and comparatively -enormous prey. The suppression of all movements in the victim is the only means of -realizing these conditions; and this suppression, to be complete, requires sundry -dagger-thrusts, one in each motor centre. If the paralysis and the torpor be not sufficient, -the Grey Worm will defy the efforts of the huntress, will struggle desperately on -the road and will not reach the journey’s end; if the immobility be not complete, -the egg, fixed at a given spot on the worm, will perish under the contortions of the -giant. There is no <i lang="la">via media</i>, no half-success. Either the caterpillar is treated according to rule and the Wasp’s -family is perpetuated; or else the victim is only partially paralysed and the Wasp’s -offspring dies in the egg. -</p> -<p>Yielding to the inexorable logic of things, we will therefore admit that the first -Hairy Ammophila, after capturing a Grey Worm to feed her larva, operated on the patient -by the exact method in use to-day. She seized the creature by the skin of the neck, -stabbed it underneath, opposite each of the nerve-centres and, if the monster threatened -further resistance, munched its brain. It must have happened like this; for, once -more, an unskilled murderess, doing her work in a perfunctory and haphazard <span class="pageNum" id="pb372">[<a href="#pb372">372</a>]</span>fashion, would leave no successor, since the rearing of the egg would become impossible. -Save for the perfection of her surgical powers, the slayer of fat caterpillars would -die out in the first generation. -</p> -<p>Again I hear you say: -</p> -<p>‘The Hairy Ammophila, before hunting the Grey Worm, may have picked out feebler caterpillars -and heaped up several in one cell, until they represented the same bulk of provender -as the big prey of to-day. With puny game, a few thrusts of the needle, perhaps one, -would be enough. Gradually, large-sized prey came to be preferred, as reducing the -number of hunting expeditions. Then, as successive generations went after bigger game, -the dagger-strokes were multiplied, in proportion to the victim’s power of resistance; -and, by degrees, the elementary instinct of the outset became the highly-developed -instinct of our time.’ -</p> -<p>To these arguments we may begin by replying that the larva’s change of diet and the -substitution of one morsel for a number are diametrically opposed to what happens -before our eyes. The Hunting Wasp, as we know her, is extremely loyal to old customs; -she has sumptuary laws which she never transgresses. She who fed on Weevils in her -youth puts Weevils and naught else in her larva’s cell; she who was <span class="pageNum" id="pb373">[<a href="#pb373">373</a>]</span>supplied with Buprestis-beetles persists in the fare which she has adopted and serves -her larva with Buprestis-beetles. One Sphex must have Crickets; a second, Grasshoppers; -a third, Locusts. Nothing is accepted but these particular dishes. The Bembex who -hunts Gad-flies revels in them and refuses to do without them, whereas <i lang="la">Stizus ruficornis</i>, who fills the larder with Praying Mantes, scorns any other game. And so with the -rest. They have each their own taste. -</p> -<p>It is true that many allow themselves a more varied bill of fare, but only within -the limits of one entomological group: thus the Weevil and Buprestis hunters prey -upon any species proportioned to their strength. Were the Hairy Ammophila to make -a change in her diet, that would be her case too. Whether small and sundry to each -cell or large and single, the prey would always consist of caterpillars. So far, so -good. But there remains the question of the many replaced by the unit; and I do not -yet know one instance of such an alteration in the Wasp’s habits. She who stocks the -burrow with a single joint never thinks of heaping up several of smaller size; she -who goes on repeated expeditions to stack a quantity of game in the same cell does -not know how to limit herself to one head by choosing larger meat. The <span class="pageNum" id="pb374">[<a href="#pb374">374</a>]</span>result of my observations never varies in this regard. The prehistoric Ammophila, -who abandoned her multiplicity of small game for one colossal head, has nothing to -warrant her existence. -</p> -<p>If the point were conceded, would the question be advanced? Not in the least. Let -us accept as the initial prey a feeble caterpillar, paralysed with a single sting. -Even then that sting must not be given at random, else the act would be more harmful -than profitable. Irritated, but not subdued by the wound, the animal would but become -more dangerous. The dart must strike a nerve-centre, probably in the middle region -of the string of ganglia. This, at any rate, is how the present-day Ammophilæ seem -to go to work when they are addicted to the rape of frail and slender grubs. What -chance would the operator have of striking that one particular point, if her lancet -were wielded without method? The probability is ludicrously remote: it is as one to -the countless number of points whereof the caterpillar’s body is made up. And yet, -according to the theorists, it is on this probability that the Wasp’s future depends. -What an edifice to balance on the point of a needle! -</p> -<p>Let us go on admitting and continue. The desired point is struck; the prey is duly -paralysed; <span class="pageNum" id="pb375">[<a href="#pb375">375</a>]</span>the egg laid on its flank will develop in safety. Is that enough? It is at most but -a half of what is absolutely necessary. Another egg is indispensable to complete the -future couple and ensure offspring. Therefore, within a few days’, within a few hours’ -interval, a second sting must be given, as successful as the first. In other words, -the impossible has to be repeated, the impossible raised to the second degree. -</p> -<p>Let us not be discouraged yet; let us sound the uttermost depths of the problem. Here -is a Wasp, some precursor, no matter which, of our Ammophila, who, favoured by chance, -has twice and perhaps oftener succeeded in reducing the prey to that state of inertia -which the rearing of the egg imperatively demands. She does not know, does not suspect -that she inserted her sting opposite a nerve-centre rather than elsewhere. As there -was nothing to prompt her choice, she acted at random. Nevertheless, if we are to -take the theory of instinct seriously, we shall have to admit that this fortuitous -action, though a matter of indifference to the insect, left a lasting trace and made -so great an impression that, henceforth, the cunning stratagem which produces paralysis -by attacking the nervous centres is transmissible by heredity. The Ammophila’s successors, -by some prodigious privilege, will inherit what the mother did <span class="pageNum" id="pb376">[<a href="#pb376">376</a>]</span>not possess. They will know by instinct the point or points towards which the sting -must be directed; for, if they were still in the prentice stage, if they and their -successors had to risk the chance that accident would tend gradually to strengthen -the nascent impulse, they would be going back to the likelihood so near allied to -<i>nil</i>; they would go back to it year by year, for centuries to come; and yet the one and -only favourable chance would have to be always recurring. I find it very difficult -to believe in a habit acquired by this prolonged repetition of incidents whereof not -one can take place without excluding so many contrary chances. It is a simple matter -of arithmetic to show the number of absurdities against which the theorists rush headlong. -</p> -<p>Nor is this all. We should have to ask ourselves how casual actions, to which the -insect was not predisposed by nature, can become the source of a hereditary transmissible -habit. We should look upon a man as a sorry wag who came to us and said that the descendant -of the <i lang="es">desnucador</i> knows the art of slaughtering cattle from A to Z merely through being the son of -his father, without the aid of precept or example. The father does not use his blade -just once or twice, by accident; he operates every day and scores of times a day; -he goes to work with <span class="pageNum" id="pb377">[<a href="#pb377">377</a>]</span>reflection. It is his business. Does this lifelong practice create a transmissible -habit? Are the sons, the grandsons, the great-grandsons any the wiser, without instruction? -No, the thing has to start afresh each time. Man is not predisposed by nature to this -butchery. -</p> -<p>If, on her side, the Wasp excels in her art, it is because she is born to follow it, -because she is endowed not only with tools, but also with the knack of using them. -And this gift is original, perfect from the outset: the past has added nothing to -it, the future will add nothing to it. As it was, so it is and will be. If you see -in it naught but an acquired habit, which heredity hands down and improves, at least -explain to us why man, who represents the highest stage in the evolution of your primitive -plasma, is deprived of the like privilege. A paltry insect bequeaths its skill to -its offspring; and man cannot. What an immense advantage it would be to humanity if -we were less liable to see the worker succeeded by the idler, the man of talent by -the idiot! Ah, why has not protoplasm, evolving by its own energy from one being into -another, reserved until it came to us a little of that wonderful power which it has -bestowed so lavishly upon the insects! The answer is that apparently, in this world, -cellular evolution is not everything. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb378">[<a href="#pb378">378</a>]</span></p> -<p>For these among many other reasons, I reject the modern theory of instinct. I see -in it no more than an ingenious game in which the armchair naturalist, the man who -shapes the world according to his whim, is able to take delight, but in which the -observer, the man grappling with reality, fails to find a serious explanation of anything -whatsoever that he sees. In my own surroundings, I notice that those who are most -positive in the matter of these difficult questions are those who have seen the least. -If they have seen nothing at all, they go to the length of rashness. The others, the -timid ones, know more or less what they are talking about. And is it not the same -outside my modest environment? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb379">[<a href="#pb379">379</a>]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3012"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3012src">1</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line">‘This night, at least, with me forget your care; -</p> -<p class="line">Chestnuts and curds and cream shall be your fare -</p> -<p class="line">The carpet-ground shall be with leaves o’erspread -</p> -<p class="line">And boughs shall weave a covering for your head.’—</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p> -</p> -<p class="footnote cont xd31e123"><i>Pastorals</i>, book i., Dryden’s translation. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3012src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3027"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3027src">2</a></span> Louis Racine (1692–1763), son of Jean Racine.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3027src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3043" lang="en"> -<p class="footnote" lang="en"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3043src">3</a></span> </p> -<div class="q"> -<div class="nestedtext"> -<div class="nestedbody"> -<div class="lgouter footnote"> -<p class="line xd31e3049">… and even in the mire, -</p> -<p class="line">The insect, of its worth assured, once and again -</p> -<p class="line">Ventures to challenge us to make good our disdain.</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div><p></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3082"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3082src">4</a></span> <span class="sc">L. Couty</span>, in the <i lang="fr">Revue scientifique</i>, 6 August 1881.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3082src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="back"> -<div id="app" class="div1 appendix"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e448">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Appendix</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The following Wasps appear to me to be new to our fauna. I give a description of each -of them. -</p> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="label">A</h3> -<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Cerceris Antoniæ</span>—H. Fab.</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Length, 16 to 18 millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3228src" href="#xd31e3228">1</a> Black, thickly and deeply spotted. Shield, raised like a nose, that is to say, forming -a convex projection, broad at the base, pointed at the tip and resembling one half -of a cone divided lengthwise. Prominent crest between the antennæ. A yellow streak -above the crest, yellow cheeks and a large yellow spot behind each eye. Yellow shield, -with black dot. Mandibles, iron-yellow, with black tips. First four or five joints -of the antennæ, iron-yellow; the rest brown. -</p> -<p>Two dots on the prothorax, the wing-scales and the postscutellum yellow. First segment -of the abdomen has two round spots. The next four segments have on their hinder edge -<span class="pageNum" id="pb380">[<a href="#pb380">380</a>]</span>a yellow band cut deeply into the form of a triangle, or even broken right off; and -this is more noticeable in the less distant segments. -</p> -<p>Under-part of the body, black. Legs, iron-yellow all through. Wings, slightly bronzed -at the tip. -</p> -<p>The above is a description of the female. The male is unknown to me. -</p> -<p>In colouring, this species approaches <i lang="la">Cerceris labiata</i>, from which it differs more particularly by the shape of the shield and by its size, -which is much larger. Observed near Avignon in July. -</p> -<p>I dedicate this species to my daughter Antonia, whose assistance has often been of -great value to me in my entomological researches. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="label">B</h3> -<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Cerceris Julii.</span>—H. Fab.</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Length, 7 to 9 millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3253src" href="#xd31e3253">2</a> Black, thickly and deeply spotted. Shield, flat. Face covered with a fine silvery -down. A narrow yellow band on either side on the inner edge of the eyes. Mandibles, -yellow, with brown tips. Antennæ, black above, pale russet below; lower surface of -their basilar joints, yellow. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb381">[<a href="#pb381">381</a>]</span></p> -<p>On the prothorax two small yellow dots, some distance apart; yellow wing-scales and -postscutellum. A yellow band on the third segment of the abdomen and another on the -fifth segment; these two bands are deeply hollowed on the fore-edge, the first into -a semicircle, the second into a triangle. -</p> -<p>Under-part of the body, entirely black. Black hips; thighs of the hind-legs, all black; -those of the two front pairs, black at the root and yellow at the end. Legs and tarsi, -yellow. Wings slightly smoke-coloured. -</p> -<p>Female. -</p> -<p>Varieties: 1. Prothorax without yellow dots. 2. Two small yellow dots on the second -segment of the abdomen. 3. Wider yellow band on the inner side of the eyes. 4. Front -of shield edged yellow. -</p> -<p>The male is unknown to me. -</p> -<p>This Cerceris, the smallest in my district, feeds her larvæ on very small-sized Weevils, -<i lang="la">Bruchus granarius</i> and <i lang="la">Apion gravidum</i>. Observed near Carpentras, where she builds her nest in September, in the soft sandstone -locally known as <i>safre</i>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb382">[<a href="#pb382">382</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="label">C</h3> -<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Bembex Julii.</span>—H. Fab.</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Length, 18 to 20 millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3283src" href="#xd31e3283">3</a> Black, with bristling whitish hairs on the head, the thorax and the base of the first -segment of the abdomen. Long upper lip, yellow. Ridge-shaped shield, forming a sort -of trihedral angle, of which one side, that of the fore-edge, is all yellow, while -each of the two others is marked with a large rectangular black patch, touching the -adjacent one, so that the two together form a chevron; these two patches and also -the cheeks are covered with a fine silvery down. Cheeks and a median line between -the antennæ, yellow. The back rim of the eyes has a long yellow border. Yellow mandibles, -brown at the tips. First two joints of the antennæ, yellow underneath, black above; -the others, yellow. -</p> -<p>Prothorax, black, with its sides and dorsal division yellow. Mesothorax, black; the -callous dot and a small dot on either side, above the base of the intermediate legs, -yellow. Metathorax, black, with two yellow spots behind and a larger one, on either -side, above the base of the hind-legs. The first two spots are sometimes missing. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb383">[<a href="#pb383">383</a>]</span></p> -<p>Abdomen, brilliant black above and bare, except at the base of the first segment, -which bristles with whitish hairs. All the segments have a wavy transversal band, -wider at the sides than in the middle and nearer to the hinder edge as the segment -is farther back. On the fifth segment the yellow band touches the hinder edge. Anal -segment, yellow, black at the root, covered all over the dorsal surface with rusty-red -papillæ, forming a base for bristles. A row of similar bristle-bearing protuberances -occupies also the hinder edge of the fifth segment. Underneath, the abdomen is brilliant -black, with a triangular yellow patch on either side of the four intermediary segments. -</p> -<p>Black hips; thighs, yellow in front, black behind; yellow legs and tarsi. Transparent -wings. -</p> -<p>In the male the chevron mark on the shield is narrower, or even entirely absent, in -which case the face is all yellow. The bands on the abdomen are a very pale yellow, -almost white. The sixth segment has a band like those which come before, but shorter -and often reduced to two dots. The second segment has underneath it a longitudinal -carina, raised and spine-shaped at the back. Lastly, the anal segment carries below -it a rather thick angular projection. The rest is the same as in the female. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb384">[<a href="#pb384">384</a>]</span></p> -<p>This Wasp is very much like <i lang="la">Bembex rostrata</i> in size and in the arrangement of the black and yellow. The chief differences lie -in the following characteristics: the shield of <i lang="la">Bembex Julii</i> forms a trihedral angle, whereas it is rounded and convex in the other Bembex. It -also has at its base a broad, chevron-shaped black band, formed of two rectangular -patches joined together and powdered with a silvery down, which is very brilliant -in a suitable light. The upper surface of the anal segment bristles with papillæ and -reddish hairs, as does the hinder edge of the fifth segment. Lastly, the mandibles -are stained black at the tips only, whereas the base also is black in <i lang="la">Bembex rostrata</i>. Their habits are equally dissimilar. <i lang="la">Bembex rostrata</i> hunts Gad-flies mainly; <i lang="la">Bembex Julii</i> never preys on big Flies but attacks smaller ones of greatly varying species. -</p> -<p>Jules’ Bembex is frequent in the sandy soil of Les Angles, round about Avignon and -on the hill at Orange. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 section"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="label">D</h3> -<h3 class="main"><span class="sc">Ammophila Julii.</span>—H. Fab.</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Length, 16 to 22 millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3322src" href="#xd31e3322">4</a> Abdominal petiole consisting of the first segment and half <span class="pageNum" id="pb385">[<a href="#pb385">385</a>]</span>the second. Third cubital narrowed towards the radial. Head, black, with silvery down -on the face. Antennæ, black. Thorax, black, with transverse stripes on its three segments, -darker on the prothorax and the mesothorax. Two patches on the sides and one behind -either side of the metathorax, covered with silvery down. Abdomen, bare and shiny. -First segment, black. Second segment, red in the part narrowed into a petiole and -in the widened part. Third segment, all red. The others, a beautiful, metallic indigo-blue. -Legs, black, with silvery down on the hips. Wings, slightly reddish. Builds her nest -in October and stocks each cell with two medium-sized caterpillars. -</p> -<p>Is nearly related to <i lang="la">Ammophila holosericea</i>, being of the same size, but differs markedly in the colour of her legs, which are -all black, in her head and thorax, which are much less hairy, and in the transverse -stripes on the three segments of the thorax. -</p> -<p class="tb"></p><p> -</p> -<p>I wish these three Wasps to bear the name of my son Jules, to whom I dedicate them. -</p> -<p>Dear Jules, snatched at such an early age from your passionate love of flowers and -insects, you were my fellow-worker; nothing escaped your clear-sighted glance; I was -to write this book for you, to whom its stories gave such <span class="pageNum" id="pb386">[<a href="#pb386">386</a>]</span>delight; and you yourself were to continue it one day. Alas, you went to a happier -home, knowing nothing of the book but its first lines! May your name at least figure -in it, borne by some of those industrious and beautiful Wasps whom you loved so well! -</p> -<p class="signed">J. H. F. -</p> -<p class="dateline"><span class="sc">Orange</span>, <i>3 April 1879</i>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb387">[<a href="#pb387">387</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3228"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3228src">1</a></span> ⅝ to ¾ inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3228src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3253"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3253src">2</a></span> ¼ to ⅓ inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3253src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3283"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3283src">3</a></span> ¾ to ⅞ inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3283src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3322"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3322src">4</a></span> ·62 to ·86 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3322src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ix" class="div1 index"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e456">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main"><i>Index</i></h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">A</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Acridian (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.locust">Locust</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.african.sphex">African Sphex, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>. -</p> -<p>Ammophila (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>, <a href="#pb185" class="pageref">185</a>, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>–50, <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>–3, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb297" class="pageref">297</a>–8, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ammophila argentata</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.silvery.ammophila">Silvery Ammophila</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ammophila hirsuta</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.hairy.ammophila">Hairy Ammophila</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ammophila holosericea</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.silky.ammophila">Silky Ammophila</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ammophila Julii</i>, <a href="#pb384" class="pageref">384</a>–5. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Ammophila sabulosa</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.sandy.ammophila">Sandy Ammophila</a>). -</p> -<p>Ant, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a>, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>–4. -</p> -<p>Anthrax (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.anthrax.flava">Anthrax flava</a></i>), <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.anthrax.flava"><i lang="la">Anthrax flava</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p>Aphis (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.plant-louse">Plant-louse</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Apion gravidum</i>, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>, <a href="#pb381" class="pageref">381</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.asidae">Asidæ, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">B</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Bacon-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.dermestes">Dermestes</a>). -</p> -<p>Badger, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>. -</p> -<p>Bat (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.horseshoe.bat">Horseshoe Bat</a>), <a href="#pb348" class="pageref">348</a>. -</p> -<p>Beccafico, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p>Bee (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.hive-bee">Hive-bee</a>), <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb221" class="pageref">221</a>. -</p> -<p>Bee-eating Philanthus (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.philanthus.apivorus">Philanthus apivorus</a></i>). -</p> -<p>Bee-fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bombylius">Bombylius</a>). -</p> -<p>Beetle, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb16" class="pageref">16</a>, <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>, <a href="#pb32" class="pageref">32</a>, <a href="#pb40" class="pageref">40</a>–57. -</p> -<p>Bembex (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>, <a href="#pb251" class="pageref">251</a>–304, <a href="#pb311" class="pageref">311</a>–22, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bembex bidentata</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.two-pronged.bembex">Two-pronged Bembex</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.bembex.julii"><i lang="la">Bembex Julii</i>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>–6, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>, <a href="#pb382" class="pageref">382</a>–4. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bembex oculata</i> <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a>–8. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bembex olivacea</i>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bembex rostrata</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.rostrate.bembex">Rostrate Bembex</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.bembex.tarsata"><i lang="la">Bembex tarsata</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>, <a href="#pb281" class="pageref">281</a>–2. -</p> -<p>Bernard, Claude, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>–6, <a href="#pb48" class="pageref">48</a>. -</p> -<p>Black-fly, <a href="#pb230" class="pageref">230</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.black.tachytes">Black Tachytes, <a href="#pb69" class="pageref">69</a>–70. -</p> -<p>Blanchard, Émile, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.bluebottle">Bluebottle, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.bombylius">Bombylius (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.bombylius.nitidulus">Bombylius nitidulus</a></i>), <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>, <a href="#pb274" class="pageref">274</a>, <a href="#pb281" class="pageref">281</a>–2. -</p> -<p id="ix.bombylius.nitidulus"><i lang="la">Bombylius nitidulus</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bothynoderus albidus</i>, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Brachyderes gracilis</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p>Bronze Buprestis, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bruchus granarius</i>, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>, <a href="#pb381" class="pageref">381</a>. -</p> -<p>Bug, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>. -</p> -<p>Bullock (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.ox">Ox</a>). -</p> -<p>Bunting, <a href="#pb217" class="pageref">217</a>, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>. -</p> -<p>Buprestis (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>–9, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>–17, <a href="#pb28" class="pageref">28</a>, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>–50, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>–4, <a href="#pb56" class="pageref">56</a>, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>, <a href="#pb68" class="pageref">68</a>, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb275" class="pageref">275</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis biguttata</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis chrysostigma</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis fasciata</i>, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a>–6, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis flavomaculata</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb388">[<a href="#pb388">388</a>]</span></p> -<p id="ix.buprestis-hunting.cerceris">Buprestis-hunting Cerceris, <a href="#pb1" class="pageref">1</a>–17, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>, <a href="#pb67" class="pageref">67</a>–8. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis micans</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis novemmaculata</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis octoguttata</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis pruni</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Buprestis tarda</i>, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Burying-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.bush-pipit">Bush-pipit, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>–5. -</p> -<p>Butterfly, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">C</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.calathus" class="first">Calathus, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Calliphora vomitoria</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bluebottle">Bluebottle</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.carabus">Carabus, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a>. -</p> -<p>Carrion-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.silpha">Silpha</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.carrier-pigeon">Carrier-pigeon, <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a>–11. -</p> -<p>Cat, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>. -</p> -<p>Caterpillar (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.grey.worm">Grey Worm</a>, <a href="#ix.looper">Looper</a>), <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>, <a href="#pb246" class="pageref">246</a>–7, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.cellar-beetle">Cellar-beetle, <a href="#pb32" class="pageref">32</a>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p>Cerceris (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb40" class="pageref">40</a>–57, <a href="#pb84" class="pageref">84</a>, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>, <a href="#pb154" class="pageref">154</a>, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>, <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>–3, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>, <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris Antoniæ</i>, <a href="#pb379" class="pageref">379</a>–80. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris arenaria</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris aurita</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris bupresticida</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.buprestis-hunting.cerceris">Buprestis-hunting Cerceris</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris Ferreri</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.cerceris.julii"><i lang="la">Cerceris Julii</i>, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>, <a href="#pb380" class="pageref">380</a>–1. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris labiata</i>, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris major</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.great.cerceris">Great Cerceris</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris ornata</i>, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris quadricincta</i>, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cerceris tuberculata</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.great.cerceris">Great Cerceris</a>). -</p> -<p>Chafer (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.scarab">Scarab</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.chlaenius">Chlænius, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>. -</p> -<p>Chlorion (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.compressed.chlorion">Compressed Chlorion</a>). -</p> -<p>Cicada, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>, <a href="#pb251" class="pageref">251</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.cleonus">Cleonus (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb306" class="pageref">306</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cleonus alternans</i>, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.cleonus.ophthalmicus"><i lang="la">Cleonus ophthalmicus</i>, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>–26, <a href="#pb34" class="pageref">34</a>–39, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb81" class="pageref">81</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Clytia pellucens</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cneorinus hispidus</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Coccinella septempunctata</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.seven-spot.ladybird">Seven-spot Ladybird</a>). -</p> -<p>Cockchafer, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a>–60. -</p> -<p>Cockroach (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.kakerlak">Kakerlak</a>), <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Codfish, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>. -</p> -<p>Common Fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.fly">Fly</a>, <a href="#ix.house-fly">House-fly</a>). -</p> -<p>Common Wasp (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.social.wasp">Social Wasp</a>). -</p> -<p>Common Wheat-ear (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheat-ear">Wheat-ear</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.compressed.chlorion">Compressed Chlorion, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>. -</p> -<p>Couty, L., <a href="#pb363" class="pageref">363</a>. -</p> -<p>Crabro (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.hornet">Hornet</a>), <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a>–1. -</p> -<p>Crayfish, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="fr">Crèou</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.shore-lark">Shore-lark</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.crested.lark">Crested Lark, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>. -</p> -<p>Cricket, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>, <a href="#pb62" class="pageref">62</a>, <a href="#pb65" class="pageref">65</a>–81, <a href="#pb83" class="pageref">83</a>, <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>–95, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>–8, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>–14, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>–17, <a href="#pb154" class="pageref">154</a>–6, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>, <a href="#pb166" class="pageref">166</a>, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>–4, <a href="#pb217" class="pageref">217</a>, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p>Cuckoo, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">D</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Dart Moth (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.turnip.moth">Turnip Moth</a>). -</p> -<p>Darwin, Charles Robert, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Darwin, Erasmus, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a>–20, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a>–8. -</p> -<p>Delacour, Th., <a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>, <a href="#pb211" class="pageref">211</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.dermestes">Dermestes, <a href="#pb343" class="pageref">343</a>, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Dexia rustica</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb389">[<a href="#pb389">389</a>]</span></p> -<p>Dog, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb345" class="pageref">345</a>–6. -</p> -<p id="ix.double-lined.buprestis">Double-lined Buprestis, <a href="#pb16" class="pageref">16</a>. -</p> -<p>Drone-fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.eristalis">Eristalis</a>). -</p> -<p>Dryden, John, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Dufour, Léon, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>–13, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>–16, <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a>, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>, <a href="#pb28" class="pageref">28</a>, <a href="#pb33" class="pageref">33</a>, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>, <a href="#pb67" class="pageref">67</a>. -</p> -<p>Dung-beetle (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.sacred.scarab">Sacred Scarab</a>, <a href="#ix.wide-necked.scarab">Wide-necked Scarab</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">E</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Earwig, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Echinomyia intermedia</i>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Echinomyia rubescens</i>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>. -</p> -<p>Eel, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.ephippiger">Ephippiger (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.ephippiger.of.the.vine">Ephippiger of the Vine</a>), <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>–8, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a>, <a href="#pb112" class="pageref">112</a>–13, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a>, <a href="#pb142" class="pageref">142</a>–73, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb358" class="pageref">358</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.ephippiger.of.the.vine">Ephippiger of the Vine, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>–7. -</p> -<p id="ix.eristalis">Eristalis (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Eristalis æneus</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Eristalis sepulchralis</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Eristalis tenax</i>, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>–7, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.eyed.lizard">Eyed Lizard, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">F</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Fabre, Émile, the author’s son, <a href="#pb164" class="pageref">164</a>–6. -</p> -<p>Fabre, Mlle. Aglaé, the author’s daughter, <a href="#pb334" class="pageref">334</a>, <a href="#pb336" class="pageref">336</a>. -</p> -<p>Fabre, Mlle. Antonia, the author’s daughter, <a href="#pb380" class="pageref">380</a>. -</p> -<p>Fabre, Mlle. Claire, the author’s daughter, <a href="#pb334" class="pageref">334</a>, <a href="#pb336" class="pageref">336</a>. -</p> -<p>Fabre, Jules, the author’s son, <a href="#pb385" class="pageref">385</a>. -</p> -<p>Favier, the author’s factotum, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a>–30, <a href="#pb333" class="pageref">333</a>–4, <a href="#pb336" class="pageref">336</a>. -</p> -<p>Flesh-fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.sarcophaga">Sarcophaga</a>). -</p> -<p>Flourens, Marie Jean Pierre, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>–6, <a href="#pb163" class="pageref">163</a>, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.fly">Fly (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.house-fly">House-fly</a>), <a href="#pb118" class="pageref">118</a>–23, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a>, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>, <a href="#pb255" class="pageref">255</a>, <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>, <a href="#pb262" class="pageref">262</a>, <a href="#pb263" class="pageref">263</a>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>–70, <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>–7, <a href="#pb318" class="pageref">318</a>, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a>, <a href="#pb329" class="pageref">329</a>, <a href="#pb384" class="pageref">384</a>. -</p> -<p>Fox, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">G</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Gad-fly, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>–70, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>–4, <a href="#pb279" class="pageref">279</a>–80, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>, <a href="#pb384" class="pageref">384</a>. -</p> -<p>Geometrid Moth, <a href="#pb240" class="pageref">240</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Geonemus flabellipes</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Geron gibbosus</i>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.gnat">Gnat (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.tachina">Tachina</a>, <a href="#ix.miltogramma">Miltogramma</a>), <a href="#pb68" class="pageref">68</a>. -</p> -<p>Golden Apple-beetle, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Gonia atra</i>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p>Goshawk, <a href="#pb278" class="pageref">278</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="fr">Grasset</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bush-pipit">Bush-Pipit</a>). -</p> -<p>Grasshopper (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.ephippiger">Ephippiger</a>), <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.great.cerceris">Great Cerceris, <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a>–39, <a href="#pb65" class="pageref">65</a>, <a href="#pb75" class="pageref">75</a>, <a href="#pb78" class="pageref">78</a>–81, <a href="#pb98" class="pageref">98</a>, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>, <a href="#pb306" class="pageref">306</a>–10. -</p> -<p id="ix.greenbottle">Greenbottle, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a>–60, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p>Green-fly, <a href="#pb230" class="pageref">230</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.grey.lizard">Grey Lizard, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.grey.worm">Grey Worm, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb332" class="pageref">332</a>–43, <a href="#pb344" class="pageref">344</a>, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>–7, <a href="#pb350" class="pageref">350</a>–3, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>–8, <a href="#pb364" class="pageref">364</a>, <a href="#pb366" class="pageref">366</a>, <a href="#pb367" class="pageref">367</a>–75. -</p> -<p>Ground-beetle (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.calathus">Calathus</a></i>, <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.carabus">Carabus</a></i>, <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.chlaenius">Chlænius</a></i>, <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.nebria">Nebria</a></i>, <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.procrustes">Procrustes</a></i>, <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.sphodrus">Sphodrus</a></i>), <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">H</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.hairy.ammophila" class="first">Hairy Ammophila, <a href="#pb205" class="pageref">205</a>, <a href="#pb215" class="pageref">215</a>, <a href="#pb222" class="pageref">222</a>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a>–8, <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a>, <a href="#pb234" class="pageref">234</a>, <a href="#pb239" class="pageref">239</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>–50, <a href="#pb330" class="pageref">330</a>–58, <a href="#pb364" class="pageref">364</a>, <a href="#pb366" class="pageref">366</a>–77. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Helophilus trivittatus</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p>Herring, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb390">[<a href="#pb390">390</a>]</span></p> -<p id="ix.hister">Hister, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>, <a href="#pb343" class="pageref">343</a>, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.hive-bee">Hive-bee, <a href="#pb83" class="pageref">83</a>–5, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>–5,177–8, <a href="#pb215" class="pageref">215</a>, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>, <a href="#pb368" class="pageref">368</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.hornet">Hornet, <a href="#pb124" class="pageref">124</a>, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a>–7. -</p> -<p id="ix.horseshoe.bat">Horseshoe Bat, <a href="#pb348" class="pageref">348</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.house-fly">House-fly, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>, <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>–9. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">I</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Inchworm (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.looper">Looper</a>). -</p> -<p>Infusoria, <a href="#pb345" class="pageref">345</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">J</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Jay, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a>. -</p> -<p>Jules’ Bembex (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.bembex.julii">Bembex Julii</a></i>). -</p> -<p>Jules’ Cerceris (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.cerceris.julii">Cerceris Julii</a></i>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">K</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.kakerlak" class="first">Kakerlak, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>–12. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">L</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Lacordaire, Jean Théodore, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a> and <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb118" class="pageref">118</a>. -</p> -<p>Ladybird (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.seven-spot.ladybird">Seven-spot Ladybird</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.lamia">Lamia, <a href="#pb32" class="pageref">32</a>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.languedocian.sphex">Languedocian Sphex, <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>–9, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>, <a href="#pb109" class="pageref">109</a>–10, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>, <a href="#pb129" class="pageref">129</a>–95, <a href="#pb216" class="pageref">216</a>, <a href="#pb236" class="pageref">236</a>, <a href="#pb243" class="pageref">243</a>, <a href="#pb358" class="pageref">358</a>. -</p> -<p>Lark (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.crested.lark">Crested Lark</a>, <a href="#ix.shore-lark">Shore-lark</a>, <a href="#ix.skylark">Skylark</a>, <a href="#ix.titlark">Titlark</a>), <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>. -</p> -<p>Latreille, Pierre André, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a> and <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a>. -</p> -<p>Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, Amédée Comte, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a> and <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>, <a href="#pb289" class="pageref">289</a>. -</p> -<p>Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, Felix, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, Louis Michel, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Linnæus, <a href="#pb60" class="pageref">60</a>. -</p> -<p>Linnet, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a>. -</p> -<p>Lizard (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.eyed.lizard">Eyed Lizard</a>, <a href="#ix.grey.lizard">Grey Lizard</a>), <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.locust">Locust, <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>, <a href="#pb88" class="pageref">88</a>, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>–8, <a href="#pb111" class="pageref">111</a>–13, <a href="#pb114" class="pageref">114</a>–16, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a>–91, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>–4, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb328" class="pageref">328</a>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p>Longicornes (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.lamia">Lamia</a>, <a href="#ix.saperda">Saperda</a>), <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb56" class="pageref">56</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.looper">Looper, <a href="#pb240" class="pageref">240</a>, <a href="#pb246" class="pageref">246</a>. -</p> -<p>Louse (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.plant-louse">Plant-louse</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Lucilia Cæsar</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.greenbottle">Greenbottle</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">M</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Macmillan and Co., Ltd., <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p><i>Mademoiselle Mori</i>, author of, <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Magendie, François, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>–6. -</p> -<p>Maia (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.spider-crab">Spider-crab</a>). -</p> -<p>Mammoth, <a href="#pb365" class="pageref">365</a>. -</p> -<p>Mantis, <i lang="la">Mantis religiosa</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis</a>). -</p> -<p>Martial, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p>Martin, <a href="#pb230" class="pageref">230</a>. -</p> -<p>Meade-Waldo, Geoffrey, <a href="#pb.vi" class="pageref">vi</a>. -</p> -<p>Measuring-worm (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.looper">Looper</a>). -</p> -<p>Melasoma-beetle (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.asidae">Asidæ</a>, <a href="#ix.cellar-beetle">Cellar-beetle</a>, <a href="#ix.scaurus">Scaurus</a>), <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb56" class="pageref">56</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Merodon spinipes</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p>Miall, Bernard, <a href="#pb84" class="pageref">84</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Midge (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.gnat">Gnat</a>, <a href="#ix.miltogramma">Miltogramma</a>). -</p> -<p>Millipede, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.miltogramma">Miltogramma, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a>–97. -</p> -<p>Mimic-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.hister">Hister</a>). -</p> -<p>Mole, <a href="#pb344" class="pageref">344</a>. -</p> -<p>Moth, <a href="#pb241" class="pageref">241</a>–2. -</p> -<p>Mouse, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Musca domestica</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.house-fly">House-fly</a>). -<span class="pageNum" id="pb391">[<a href="#pb391">391</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">N</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.nebria" class="first">Nebria, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus, <a href="#pb343" class="pageref">343</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Noctua segetum</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.turnip.moth">Turnip Moth</a>). -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">O</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Onesia viarum</i>, <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p>Ophthalmic Cleonus (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.cleonus.ophthalmicus">Cleonus ophthalmicus</a></i>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la"><span class="corr" id="xd31e5527" title="Source: Otiorhyncus">Otiorhynchus</span> maleficus</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la"><span class="corr" id="xd31e5536" title="Source: Otiorhyncus">Otiorhynchus</span> raucus</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p>Owl, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>–6. -</p> -<p id="ix.ox">Ox, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a>, <a href="#pb360" class="pageref">360</a>–6. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">P</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Palarus, <a href="#pb84" class="pageref">84</a>, <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Papilio machaon</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.swallowtail">Swallowtail</a>). -</p> -<p>Philanthus (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.philanthus.apivorus">Philanthus apivorus</a></i>). -</p> -<p id="ix.philanthus.apivorus"><i lang="la">Philanthus apivorus</i>, <a href="#pb84" class="pageref">84</a> and <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb138" class="pageref">138</a>, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>, <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>, <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Phynotomus murinus</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>–7. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Phynotomus punctatus</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -</p> -<p>Pigeon (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.carrier-pigeon">Carrier-pigeon</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pipiza nigripes</i>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.plant-louse">Plant-louse, <a href="#pb229" class="pageref">229</a>, <a href="#pb352" class="pageref">352</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Polistes gallica</i>, <a href="#pb122" class="pageref">122</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pollenia floralis</i>, <a href="#pb265" class="pageref">265</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pollenia rudis</i>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pollenia rufescens</i>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pollenia ruficollis</i>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis, <a href="#pb106" class="pageref">106</a>, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb175" class="pageref">175</a>–178, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.procrustes">Procrustes, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">R</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Rabbit, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a>, <a href="#pb252" class="pageref">252</a>–3, <a href="#pb329" class="pageref">329</a>–30. -</p> -<p>Racine, Jean, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Racine, Louis, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="fr">Rassade</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.eyed.lizard">Eyed Lizard</a>). -</p> -<p>Reindeer, <a href="#pb365" class="pageref">365</a>. -</p> -<p>Rhinolophus (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.horseshoe.bat">Horseshoe Bat</a>). -</p> -<p>Rodwell, Miss Frances, <a href="#pb.v" class="pageref">v</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.rostrate.bembex">Rostrate Bembex, <a href="#pb253" class="pageref">253</a>–60, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>–269, <a href="#pb384" class="pageref">384</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">S</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.sacred.beetle" class="first">Sacred Beetle, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>–3, <a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a>, <a href="#pb144" class="pageref">144</a>, <a href="#pb248" class="pageref">248</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.sacred.scarab">Sacred Scarab (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.sacred.beetle">Sacred Beetle</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.sandy.ammophila">Sandy Ammophila, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>, <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a>, <a href="#pb235" class="pageref">235</a>, <a href="#pb239" class="pageref">239</a>, <a href="#pb241" class="pageref">241</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.saperda">Saperda, <a href="#pb32" class="pageref">32</a>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.sarcophaga">Sarcophaga (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.sarcophaga.agricola">Sarcophaga agricola</a></i>), <a href="#pb266" class="pageref">266</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.sarcophaga.agricola"><i lang="la">Sarcophaga agricola</i>, <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p>Sardine, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.scarab">Scarab (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.sacred.beetle">Sacred Beetle</a>), <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>–4, <a href="#pb275" class="pageref">275</a>. -</p> -<p><i>Scarabæus</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.scarab">Scarab</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.scaurus">Scaurus, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p>Scolia, <a href="#pb84" class="pageref">84</a>, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a>. -</p> -<p>Scolytus, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>. -</p> -<p>Sea-spider (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.spider-crab">Spider-crab</a>). -</p> -<p>Sea-urchin, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a>, <a href="#pb326" class="pageref">326</a>–7. -</p> -<p id="ix.seven-spot.ladybird">Seven-spot Ladybird, <a href="#pb228" class="pageref">228</a>–30. -</p> -<p>Sheep, <a href="#pb14" class="pageref">14</a>, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.shore-lark">Shore-lark, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>. -</p> -<p>Shrike (<i>see</i> Lesser Grey Shrike). -</p> -<p>Silk Moth, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>. -</p> -<p>Silkworm, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.silky.ammophila">Silky Ammophila, <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a>, <a href="#pb234" class="pageref">234</a>, <a href="#pb239" class="pageref">239</a>–40, <a href="#pb245" class="pageref">245</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>, <a href="#pb384" class="pageref">384</a>–6. -</p> -<p id="ix.silpha">Silpha, <a href="#pb343" class="pageref">343</a>, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.silvery.ammophila">Silvery Ammophila, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>, <a href="#pb232" class="pageref">232</a>, <a href="#pb235" class="pageref">235</a>, <a href="#pb239" class="pageref">239</a>, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sitona lineata</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>–7. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sitona tibialis</i>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb392">[<a href="#pb392">392</a>]</span></p> -<p id="ix.skylark">Skylark, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>–7. -</p> -<p>Snail, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p>Snake, <a href="#pb327" class="pageref">327</a>. -</p> -<p>Social Bee (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.hive-bee">Hive-bee</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.social.wasp">Social Wasp, <a href="#pb84" class="pageref">84</a>–5, <a href="#pb121" class="pageref">121</a>–8, <a href="#pb237" class="pageref">237</a>, <a href="#pb368" class="pageref">368</a>. -</p> -<p>Spallanzani, Lazaro, <a href="#pb348" class="pageref">348</a> and <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p>Spanworm (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.looper">Looper</a>). -</p> -<p>Sparrow, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>. -</p> -<p>Sparrow-hawk, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a>–1. -</p> -<p>Sphærophoria (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.sph.rophoria.scripta">Sphærophoria scripta</a></i>), <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>–9, <a href="#pb274" class="pageref">274</a>, <a href="#pb276" class="pageref">276</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.sph.rophoria.scripta"><i lang="la">Sphærophoria scripta</i>, <a href="#pb267" class="pageref">267</a>–9. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sphenoptera geminata, S. lineola</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.double-lined.buprestis">Double-lined Buprestis</a>). -</p> -<p>Sphex (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>–195, <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a>, <a href="#pb231" class="pageref">231</a>, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb272" class="pageref">272</a>–3, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb297" class="pageref">297</a>–8, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sphex afra</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.african.sphex">African Sphex</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sphex albisecta</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.white-edged.sphex">White-edged Sphex</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sphex flavipennis</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.yellow-winged.sphex">Yellow-winged Sphex</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Sphex occitanica</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.languedocian.sphex">Languedocian Sphex</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.sphodrus">Sphodrus, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p>Spider, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.spider-crab">Spider-crab, <a href="#pb325" class="pageref">325</a>–6. -</p> -<p>Spurge Hawk-moth, <a href="#pb165" class="pageref">165</a>. -</p> -<p>Stag-beetle, <a href="#pb359" class="pageref">359</a>. -</p> -<p>Starling, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a>. -</p> -<p>Stizus (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.stizus.ruficornis">Stizus ruficornis</a></i>), <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.stizus.ruficornis"><i lang="la">Stizus ruficornis</i>, <a href="#pb373" class="pageref">373</a>. -</p> -<p>Stomoxys (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.stomoxys.calcitrans">Stomoxys calcitrans</a></i>), <a href="#pb260" class="pageref">260</a>, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.stomoxys.calcitrans"><i lang="la">Stomoxys calcitrans</i>, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>. -</p> -<p>Surveyor (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.looper">Looper</a>). -</p> -<p>Swallow, <a href="#pb230" class="pageref">230</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.swallowtail">Swallowtail, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a>. -</p> -<p>Syrphus (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.syrphus.coroll.">Syrphus corollæ</a></i>), <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.syrphus.coroll."><i lang="la">Syrphus corollæ</i>, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">T</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Tabanus</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.tachina"><i lang="la">Tachina</i> (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.miltogramma">Miltogramma</a>), <a href="#pb68" class="pageref">68</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Tachytes nigra</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.black.tachytes">Black Tachytes</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Tachytes obsoleta</i>, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Tachytes tarsina</i>, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>. -</p> -<p>Tarsal Bembex (<i>see</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.bembex.tarsata">Bembex tarsata</a></i>). -</p> -<p>Teixeira de Mattos, Alexander, <a href="#pb2" class="pageref">2</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#pb258" class="pageref">258</a> <i>n</i>. -</p> -<p id="ix.titlark">Titlark, <a href="#pb226" class="pageref">226</a>. -</p> -<p>Tortoise-beetle, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -<p>Triboulet, <a href="#pb119" class="pageref">119</a>, <a href="#pb204" class="pageref">204</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.turnip.moth">Turnip Moth, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.two-pronged.bembex">Two-pronged Bembex, <a href="#pb268" class="pageref">268</a>, <a href="#pb270" class="pageref">270</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">V</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Verlot, Bernard, <a href="#pb207" class="pageref">207</a>–11. -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Vespa crabro</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.hornet">Hornet</a>). -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Vespa vulgaris</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.social.wasp">Social Wasp</a>). -</p> -<p>Virgil, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>, <a href="#pb358" class="pageref">358</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">W</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Wagtail (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.white.wagtail">White Wagtail</a>). -</p> -<p>Warbler, <a href="#pb290" class="pageref">290</a>. -</p> -<p>Wasp (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.social.wasp">Social Wasp</a>). -</p> -<p>Weevil (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.cleonus">Cleonus</a>), <a href="#pb23" class="pageref">23</a>, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>–39, <a href="#pb49" class="pageref">49</a>–50, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb54" class="pageref">54</a>, <a href="#pb56" class="pageref">56</a>, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>, <a href="#pb78" class="pageref">78</a>, <a href="#pb80" class="pageref">80</a>–1, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>–5, <a href="#pb242" class="pageref">242</a>, <a href="#pb275" class="pageref">275</a>, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a>, <a href="#pb372" class="pageref">372</a>–3. -</p> -<p id="ix.wheat-ear">Wheat-ear, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>–4. -</p> -<p>Whin-chat, <a href="#pb223" class="pageref">223</a>. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb393">[<a href="#pb393">393</a>]</span></p> -<p id="ix.white-edged.sphex">White-edged Sphex, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>, <a href="#pb86" class="pageref">86</a>, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a>, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a>–92. -</p> -<p>White-tail (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wheat-ear">Wheat-ear</a>). -</p> -<p id="ix.white.wagtail">White Wagtail, <a href="#pb225" class="pageref">225</a>. -</p> -<p>White worm, <a href="#pb351" class="pageref">351</a>. -</p> -<p id="ix.wide-necked.scarab">Wide-necked Scarab, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>. -</p> -<p>Wood-louse, <a href="#pb224" class="pageref">224</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">Y</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.yellow-winged.sphex" class="first">Yellow-winged Sphex, <a href="#pb54" class="pageref">54</a>, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>–107, <a href="#pb110" class="pageref">110</a>, <a href="#pb113" class="pageref">113</a>–16, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>, <a href="#pb148" class="pageref">148</a>, <a href="#pb149" class="pageref">149</a>, <a href="#pb156" class="pageref">156</a>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>, <a href="#pb191" class="pageref">191</a>, <a href="#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>–5. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">Z</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Zodion notatum</i>, <a href="#pb269" class="pageref">269</a>. -</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 imprint"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e227">Printed in Great Britain by <span class="sc">T.</span> and <span class="sc">A. Constable</span>, Printers to His Majesty<br> -at the Edinburgh University Press -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="transcriberNote"> -<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> -<h3 class="main">Availability</h3> -<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project -Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</p> -<p>This eBook is produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>. -</p> -<p>Scans for this book are available from the Internet Archive (copy <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/b31344586">1</a>, -<a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/huntingwaspstran00fabruoft">2</a>, -<a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/huntingwasps00fabr">3</a>, -<a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/huntingwasps00fabriala">4</a>, -<a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://archive.org/details/huntingwasps01fabrgoog">5</a>). -</p> -<h3 class="main">Metadata</h3> -<table class="colophonMetadata" summary="Metadata"> -<tr> -<td><b>Title:</b></td> -<td>The hunting wasps</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Author:</b></td> -<td>Jean-Henri-Casimir Fabre (1823–1915)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/51689251/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Translator:</b></td> -<td>Alexander Teixeira de Mattos (1865–1921)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/55502069/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Language:</b></td> -<td>English</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Original publication date:</b></td> -<td>1916</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -</table> -<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> -<ul> -<li>2022-01-03 Started. -</li> -</ul> -<h3 class="main">External References</h3> -<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These links may not work -for you.</p> -<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3> -<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p> -<table class="correctionTable" summary="Overview of corrections applied to the text."> -<tr> -<th>Page</th> -<th>Source</th> -<th>Correction</th> -<th>Edit distance</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e741">26</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd31e5527">391</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd31e5536">391</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">Otiorhyncus</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">Otiorhynchus</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1330">117</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">Liége</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">Liège</td> -<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td> -</tr> -</table> -<h3 class="main">Abbreviations</h3> -<p>Overview of abbreviations used.</p> -<table class="abbreviationtable" summary="Overview of abbreviations used."> -<tr> -<th>Abbreviation</th> -<th>Expansion</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="bottom">F.Z.S.</td> -<td class="bottom">Fellow of the Zoological Society</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HUNTING WASPS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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