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diff --git a/old/68186-0.txt b/old/68186-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a57322a..0000000 --- a/old/68186-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8683 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Insect life, by Jean-Henri Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Insect life - Souvenirs of a naturalist - -Author: Jean-Henri Fabre - -Editor: F. Merrifield - -Translator: Margaret Roberts - -Illustrator: M. Prendergast Parker - -Release Date: May 27, 2022 [eBook #68186] - -Language: English - -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/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INSECT LIFE *** - - - - - INSECT LIFE - SOUVENIRS OF A NATURALIST - - - J.-H. FABRE - DOCTEUR ÈS SCIENCES - ‘that inimitable observer.’—Charles Darwin - - TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH - BY THE - AUTHOR OF ‘MADEMOISELLE MORI’ - - WITH A PREFACE BY - DAVID SHARP, M.A., F.R.S. - - AND EDITED BY - F. MERRIFIELD - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - M. PRENDERGAST PARKER - - - MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED - ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON - 1913 - - - - - - - - - - To the attentive eye the sight of industrial insects exhibiting - the most refined art in their labours is a spectacle both strange - and sublime. Human Reason is confounded by Instinct thus raised to - the highest pitch of which Nature can offer an example, and the - perturbation of intelligence increases on observing, patiently and - minutely, the details of the life of those creatures most highly - endowed with instinct. - - E. Blanchard. - - First Edition 1901. Reprinted 1913 - - - - - - - - - -PREFACE - - -This little volume introduces the work of a great French naturalist to -the reader of English. Réaumur, another Frenchman, is the greatest -naturalist devoting himself to the observation of insects the world has -yet seen. His six quarto volumes—Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire des -insectes—were published between 1734 and 1742. J.-H. Fabre, who happily -is still with us, is second only to Réaumur in this part of the great -field of Natural History. - -Though compatriots the two men are remarkably different in the nature -of their genius. Réaumur, stately and slow, both discursive and -diffuse. Fabre,—styled by Charles Darwin the immortal Fabre,—a most -patient, indefatigable observer, ready to sacrifice everything to the -carrying on of his work, but making deductions too rapidly from his -observations, and taking a philosophical position from which he refuses -to budge, even though he stand alone among the naturalists of this -generation. - -Fabre’s great merit is his graphic portraiture of the living insect as -it really is. This proves to be very different from insect life as it -is usually supposed to be by the uninstructed, and as it is only too -frequently represented to be in books. In the volume now offered to the -reader he is almost entirely concerned with the instinct of -Hymenoptera, the highest of the insect world in this respect. His -studies of this subject have been continued in several other volumes, -and he has also included in the series the results of many years of -observation of the habits of other and very different insects. - -His philosophical position may be briefly stated to be a determined -refusal to recognise evolution as a legitimate idea. In this we may -think him wrong; but it must be admitted that his views form a valuable -antithesis to those of the many evolutionists who take the position -that all that remains for the naturalist to do is to repeat the words -Natural Selection and variation, and declare that thereby we understand -the Cosmos. - -Fabre is a difficult writer to translate. Probably no one has ever -written on this subject with equal brilliancy and vivacity. But he is -the most Gallic of Frenchmen. If his words are literally translated, -they scarcely make English; if freely translated, the charm of his -diction is too easily missed. - -We hope that this volume may induce the student to read Fabre’s -subsequent volumes. [1] Taken altogether they are, if not superior, at -least not inferior to this one—preferred simply because it is the first -of the series. - -In his works there is a good deal of delightful autobiography. Starting -as a child amidst the direst poverty, he has become a highly -accomplished man, a great naturalist, a brilliant writer; and he has -done this with a complete contempt for money, and a great indifference -to the other rewards that Society is ready to bestow for such work. - - - D. SHARP. - - Cambridge, 20th August 1901. - - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - I. The Sacred Beetle 1 - II. The Enclosure 27 - III. Cerceris Bupresticida 40 - IV. Cerceris Tuberculata 51 - V. One Skilful to Slay 67 - VI. The Yellow-winged Sphex 80 - VII. Three Strokes of a Dagger 93 - VIII. Larva and Nymph 101 - IX. Advanced Theories 116 - X. The Sphex of Languedoc 132 - XI. The Science of Instinct 146 - XII. The Ignorance of Instinct 164 - XIII. An Ascent of Mont Ventoux 179 - XIV. The Emigrants 193 - XV. The Ammophila 205 - XVI. The Bembex 219 - XVII. Hunting Diptera 233 - XVIII. A Parasite—The Cocoon 243 - XIX. The Return to the Nest 258 - XX. Mason Bees 271 - XXI. Experiments 289 - XXII. An Exchange of Nests 306 - Descriptive Notes 317 - - - - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - The Sacred Beetle Frontispiece - Dung Beetles gathering Provender Facing page 6 - Geotrupes stercorarius fighting for the Pellet 12 - Cerceris bupresticida and its Prey; Bupresticis micans and - Buprestis flavomaculata 46 - Cerceris tuberculata dragging Weevil to its Burrow 54 - Cerceris ferreri and its Prey, the Weevil; Rhynchites betulæ - on Birch Leaves, showing two leaves rolled up by the Weevil 58 - Sphex flavipennis about to seize Grasshopper 120 - Sphex occitanica taking a Sun Bath 136 - The Sphex of Languedoc dragging to its Burrow an Ephippiger - of the Vine 156 - The Sphex of Languedoc and its enemy, the Praying Mantis 166 - Ammophila hirsuta attacking a Grub 194 - Ammophila sabulosa taking stone to cover its Burrow; - A. argentata Mining 207 - Ammophila hirsuta hunting for Caterpillars; Ammophila - sabulosa on the Wing 208 - Bembex rostrata taking Gadfly to its Nest; Bembex rostrata - Mining 240 - Mason Bees—Chalicodoma muraria on Old Nest 272 - Mason Bees—Chalicodoma sicula and Nest 280 - - - - - - - - - -I - -THE SACRED BEETLE - - -This was how it came about. We were five or six, I the oldest and their -professor, still more their comrade and friend; they, young fellows -with warm hearts and lively imaginations, overflowing with that -youthful vitality which makes one so open to impressions and so eager -for knowledge. - -Talking of one thing and another we followed a path bordered with elder -and hawthorn, where already the Rose Beetle was revelling in the -overwhelming scent of the clustering blossoms. We were going to see if -the Sacred Scarabæus had yet appeared on the sandy plateau of Les -Angles, rolling the ball of dung which ancient Egypt looked on as -emblematic of the world; we wanted to discover whether the running -stream at the bottom of the hill might not hide young newts under the -net of water weeds—newts whose branchiæ look like tiny sprays of coral; -to see if that elegant little fish of the rivulet, the stickleback, had -donned his wedding cravat of azure and purple; if the new-come swallows -were dipping on pointed wings over the meadows chasing the midges which -scatter their eggs in their airy dance; to see if the Eyed Lizard was -sunning his blue-spotted body at the mouth of a hole made in the -sandstone; or if the flocks of Laughing Gulls, come up from the sea -after the legions of fish which ascend the Rhône to spawn, were -hovering over the river, and now and again uttering their cry like the -laugh of a maniac. But enough; suffice it to say that, like simple folk -who find much pleasure in living with the brute creation, we were -intending to spend a morning in enjoying the ineffable awakening of -life in springtime. - -We were not disappointed. The stickleback was in full dress, his scales -would have made silver look dim; his throat was of the brightest -vermilion. On the approach of a great horse-leech with no good -intentions, up rose the spines on back and side as if moved by a -spring. Thus bravely encountered, the bandit beat an ignominious -retreat down among the water-plants. The dull race of molluscs, -Planorbinæ, and water-snails were sucking in air on the surface of the -water, and the great Water Beetle, with its hideous larva, went by -wringing the neck now of one, now of another, without the stupid band -seeming to notice it. But let us leave the waters of the plain and -climb the steep cliff dividing us from the tableland where sheep are -feeding and horses are being exercised for the approaching races, one -and all bestowing largesse on the rejoicing dung beetles. - -For here at work are the scavenger beetles to whom is entrusted the -high office of clearing the ground of impurities. It is impossible to -admire sufficiently the variety of tools with which they are furnished, -both to stir the dung with, to divide and shape it, and to hollow the -deep retreats into which they shut themselves with their booty. These -tools form a kind of technological museum, where there is a specimen of -every kind of digging instrument. Some might be copied from those -devised by human industry, others are of an original type, and might -serve as models for new tools for man. Copris hispanica wears a strong -horn on its head, forked and bent back, like the long spike of a -pickaxe. To a similar horn C. lunaris adds two strong points, shaped -liked a ploughshare, projecting from the thorax, and between them a -sharp-edged protuberance, serving as a wide rake. Bubas bubalus and B. -bison, both exclusively Mediterranean species, have foreheads armed -with two stout, diverging horns, between which projects a horizontal -share from the corslet. Geotrupes typhæus carries three points on the -front of its thorax, parallel and standing straight out, the middle one -shorter than the others. Onthophagus taurus owns as implements two long -curving appendages like the horns of a bull, while the furcate -Onthophagus has a two-pronged fork on its flat head. Even those least -well off have on one part or other hard tubercules—tools blunt indeed, -but which the patient insect knows very well how to utilise. All are -furnished with a shovel, i.e. a large, flat, sharp-edged head; all use -a rake—in other words, they collect materials with their toothed front -legs. - -As compensation for their unpleasant work, more than one gives out a -strong scent of musk, and its ventral parts gleam like polished metal. -Geotrupes hypocrita has the under part of its body bright with metallic -lights of copper and gold, and G. stercorarius with amethystine violet. -But the usual colour is black. It is in tropical regions that we find -dung beetles in gorgeous array—absolutely living jewels. Under camel -droppings in Upper Egypt is found a beetle rivalling the dazzling green -of an emerald; Guiana, Brazil, Senegal, can show Copridæ of a metallic -red, rich as the red of copper, bright as that of a ruby. If such a -jewelled race be wanting to our country, still its dung beetles are not -less remarkable for their habits. - -What eagerness is displayed around a dropping! Never did adventurers -from the four corners of the world show such eagerness in working a -Californian claim! Before the sun grows too hot there they are by -hundreds, large and small, pell-mell, of every kind and form and shape, -hastening to secure a slice of the cake! Some work in the open air and -rake the surface, some open galleries in the thickest part, seeking -choice morsels, others toil in the under part and bury their treasure -as soon as possible in the adjacent ground, and the smallest crumble -some scrap fallen from the excavations of their strong fellow-workers. -Some again—newcomers, and doubtless the hungriest—eat then and there, -but the aim of the greater number is to lay up a store which will allow -them to pass long days of plenty down in some sure retreat. A fresh -dropping is not to be found just when wanted in a plain where no thyme -grows; such a gift is indeed a piece of good fortune, and only comes to -the lucky. So when found, the wealth is prudently stored. The smell has -carried the good news a couple of miles round, and all have rushed to -gather up provender. Some laggards are still coming in on the wing or -on foot. - -What is the one now trotting towards the heap, fearing to arrive too -late? His long legs work with a brusque, awkward action, as if moved by -some machine inside him; his little red antennæ spread their fans—sure -sign of anxious greediness. He is coming, has arrived, not without -upsetting some of the guests. It is the Sacred Beetle, all in black, -the largest and most celebrated of our dung beetles. - -Here he is at table, beside his fellow-guests, who are giving last -touches to their balls with the flat of their large front legs, or -enriching them with a last layer before retiring to enjoy the fruit of -their labours in peace. Let us follow this famous ball in each stage of -construction. - -The edge of the beetle’s head is large and flat, and armed with six -angular teeth arranged in a semicircle. It is the tool for digging and -dividing, the rake to lift or reject such vegetable fibres as are not -nutritious, to seek out what is best and rake it together. A choice is -thus made, for these keen connoisseurs like one thing better than -another—a somewhat careless choice, indeed, if the beetle alone be -concerned, but one which is rigorously scrupulous if the maternal ball -be in question, with its central hollow where the egg will hatch. Then -every scrap of fibre is rejected, and only the quintessence of the -stercorous matter is used to build the inner layer of the cell. Then, -as soon as it is hatched, the young larva finds in the walls of its -dwelling a dainty food which strengthens digestion and enables it later -to attack the coarse outer layers. For its own needs the beetle is less -fastidious, contenting itself with a general selection. The toothed -head hollows and seeks, rejects and gathers, somewhat at haphazard. The -forelegs aid mightily. They are flattened, bent into the arc of a -circle, are furnished with strong nerves and armed with five stout -teeth. If an effort has to be made, an obstacle overthrown, a path -forced through the thickest part of the heap, the dung beetle elbows -its way; in other words, throws its toothed legs right and left, and -clears a half circle with a vigorous sweep of its rake. Room being -made, these same feet have a new task; they collect bundles of the -material raked up by the head, and pass it under the insect to the four -hind-feet. These are planned for the turner’s trade. The legs, -especially the last pair, are long and slender, slightly bent in an -arc, and ending in a very sharp spur or talon. A glance shows that they -form a spherical compass, capable of holding a globe in the bent legs -to verify and correct its shape. In fact, their mission is to shape the -ball. Bundle after bundle the material accumulates under the insect, -held between the four legs which by a slight pressure lend it their own -curve and something of shape. Then from time to time the rough hewn -ball is set in motion between the legs of the double spherical compass, -turned underneath the beetle, and rolled into a perfect sphere. Should -the outer layer fail in plasticity and threaten to scale off, or if -some part be too fibrous, and refuse to be shaped by rotation, the -faulty part is retouched by the forefeet; little taps of their broad -surface give consistency to the new layer and imbed the recalcitrant -fibre in the general mass. When the sun shines and work is urgent, one -is amazed by the feverish activity with which the turner labours. Work -goes on fast; first there was a pellet, now it is as large as a nut, by -and by it will be of the size of an apple. I have seen some greedy -beetles make up a ball as large as an apple. Assuredly there is food in -the larder for some days to come! - -Provender being gathered, the next thing is to retire from the mêlée, -and carry it to a fitting place. Now we see some of the most -characteristic habits of the Scarabæus. He sets out at once, embracing -the ball with the long hind legs, whose talons, planted in the mass, -serve as pivots—leans on the intermediary legs as pivots, and using as -levers the flat of the toothed forefeet, which press the ground -alternately, journeys backward with his load, the body bent, the head -low, and the hinder part upraised. The hind feet, which are the chief -organs in the mechanism, move continually, going and coming and -changing the place where the talons are stuck in, to alter the axis of -rotation, to keep the load balanced and advance by an alternate push -right and left. Thus the ball comes in contact with the ground in every -part of it, which gives it a perfect shape and lends consistency to the -outer layer by a uniform pressure. Courage! it moves, it rolls, and the -journey’s end will be reached, though not without trouble. Here is a -first difficulty. The beetle has to cross a slope, and the heavy ball -would naturally follow the incline, but for reasons best known to -itself, the insect prefers to cross this natural slope—an audacious -plan, which one false step or a grain of sand to upset the balance will -defeat. The false step is made, the ball rolls to the bottom of the -valley, and the insect, upset by the impetus of its load, staggers, -gets again on its legs, and hastens to harness itself afresh. The -mechanism works capitally. But look out, scatterbrain! follow the -hollow of the valley, it will spare labour and misadventure. The road -is good and quite level, and your ball will roll along with no -exertion. Not a bit of it. The insect has made up its mind to remount -the slope already so fatal to it. Perhaps it suits it to return to the -heights. Against that I have nothing to say, the Scarabæus knows better -than I do whether it be advisable to dwell in lofty regions. At all -events, take this path which will lead you up by a gentle incline. Not -at all. If there be near at hand some very stiff slope impossible to -climb, then that slope this wrong-headed insect prefers. Then begins -the labour of Sisyphus. With endless precautions the monstrous load is -painfully hoisted, step by step to a certain height, the beetle always -going tail first. One asks one’s self by what miracle of statics such a -mass can be kept on the slope. Ah! a clumsy movement brings all this -toil to naught. Down goes the ball, dragging the beetle with it. The -escalade is repeated, soon followed by a fresh fall. The attempt is -renewed, and better managed at the difficult points; a nasty -grass-root, which occasioned the previous tumbles, is prudently turned; -we have almost got to the top. But gently! gently! the ascent is -perilous, and a mere nothing may ruin all. A leg slips on a bit of -smooth gravel, and ball and scavenger roll down together. The beetle -begins all over again, with tireless obstinacy. Ten times, twenty -times, will it attempt that further ascent, until persistency -vanquishes all obstacles, or until, better advised, it takes the level -road. - -The scavenger does not always roll his ball single-handed, but -frequently takes a partner, or rather, a partner takes him. The affair -is usually managed thus: the ball being prepared, a beetle comes out of -the throng, pushing it backwards. One of the newcomers, whose own work -is hardly begun, leaves its task and runs to the ball, now in motion, -to lend a hand to the lucky proprietor, who appears to accept the -proffered aid in an amiable spirit. The two work as partners, each -doing its best to convey the ball to a place of safety. Was a treaty -made in the workshop, a tacit agreement to share the cake? While one -kneaded and shaped, was the other tapping rich veins whence to extract -choice material for their common use? I have never observed such -collaboration, but have always seen every beetle exclusively occupied -by his own affairs on the field of labour, so that the last comer has -no acquired rights. - -Is it, then, an association of the two sexes, a couple about to set up -house? For a time I thought so. The two scavengers pushing a ball, one -before and one behind, with equal zeal, used to remind me of certain -couplets once on a time popular on barrel-organs— - - - Pour monter notre ménage, hélas comment ferons-nous? - Toi devant, moi derrière, nous pousserons le tonneau. - - -But the evidence of the scalpel forces me to give up this family idyll. -There is no outward sign of sex in the Scarabæus, but on dissecting a -couple employed on one and the same ball they often turned out to be of -the same sex. In fact, there is neither community of family nor -community of labour. What, then, is the reason of the apparent -partnership? Merely an attempt at filching. The eager fellow-worker, -under pretence of giving a helping hand, cherishes the project of -carrying off the ball at the earliest opportunity. To make one for -itself at the heap demands labour and patience; to abstract a -ready-made one, or at least to foist one’s self in as a sharer of the -feast, is much more convenient. If the owner’s watchfulness should -slacken, one will flee with the treasure; if too closely looked after, -one can at least sit down at table on the pretext of services rendered. -With such tactics all turns to profit, so that pillage is carried on as -one of the most lucrative of trades. Some, as I have just said, play an -underhand game, hastening to the aid of some comrade who has not the -least need of them, and under the cloak of charitable assistance -conceal a highly indelicate greed. Others, bolder or more confident in -their strength, go straight to the goal and rob by main force. Every -moment some such scene as this will take place. A beetle departs alone, -rolling his ball, his own property, acquired by conscientious labour; -another comes flying, whence I know not, drops heavily, folds his smoky -wings under their elytra, and with the back of his toothed feet -oversets the proprietor, which, being hindside before, cannot defend -itself. While the latter struggles to its feet the aggressor stations -itself on the top of the ball, as a point of vantage whence to repel -attack, folds its feet under its breast, ready for action, and awaits -events. The bereaved owner moves round the ball, seeking a favourable -point whence to attempt an assault; the thief revolves on the top of -the citadel, constantly facing him. If the former raises itself for an -escalade, the latter gives it a cuff which stretches it flat on its -back. Secure on the top of the fortress, the besieged would bring to -nought for all time the efforts of its adversary to recover its lost -property if the besieger did not alter his tactics. Sapping threatens -to bring down both citadel and garrison. The ball being undermined, -staggers and rolls, carrying with it the robber, struggling his hardest -to keep at the top, which he generally succeeds in doing, thanks to the -hurried gymnastics that enable him to regain the altitude lost by the -rotation of his standing place. If a false movement should bring him to -the ground, the chances become equal, and the contest turns to a -wrestling match. Robber and robbed grapple body to body, breast to -breast. Their feet twist and untwist, their joints intertwine, their -horny armour clashes and grinds with the harsh sound of filed metal. -Then one will succeed in throwing its adversary on the back, and, -freeing itself, hastily takes up a position on the top of the ball, and -the siege is recommenced, now by the robber, now by the robbed, as the -chances of the fight may have decided. The former, no doubt a hardy -brigand and adventurer, often gets the best of it. After two or three -defeats the ex-owner wearies of the contest and returns philosophically -to the heap and makes a new ball. As for the other, when all fear of a -surprise is over, he harnesses himself to the conquered ball and pushes -it whither it seems good to him. I have occasionally seen a third thief -rob the robber. And upon my word I was not sorry. - -Vainly do I ask myself what Prudhon introduced into Scarabæus-morality -the audacious paradox that “Property spells theft,” or what diplomatist -taught the dung-beetle that “they may take who have the power, and they -may keep who can.” I have not the evidence required to lead me to the -origin of these spoliations which have become a habit, or of this abuse -of strength in order to seize a ball of dirt. All that I can affirm is -that among beetles theft is universal. These dung rollers pillage one -another with a cool effrontery really matchless. I leave it to future -observers to elucidate this curious problem in the psychology of -animals, and return to the couple rolling their balls in partnership. - -But first let us dissipate an error current in books. In the -magnificent work of M. Emile Blanchard, Metamorphoses, Habits, and -Instincts of Animals, I find the following passage: “Sometimes our -insect is stopped by an insurmountable obstacle: the ball has fallen -into a hole. At such a time the Ateuchus [2] displays a really -astonishing grasp of the situation, and a yet more astonishing power of -communication between individuals of the same species. Recognising the -impossibility of getting the ball over the obstacle, the Ateuchus -seemingly abandons it, and flies away. If you are sufficiently endowed -with that great and noble virtue called Patience, remain near this -forsaken ball. After a while the Ateuchus will return, and not alone; -it will be followed by two, three, or four companions who, alighting at -the appointed spot, will join in trying to lift up the load. The -Ateuchus has been to seek reinforcements, and this explains why several -beetles uniting to transport a single ball is such a common sight in -dry fields.” I also read in Illiger’s Entomological Magazine: “A -Gymnopleurus pilularius, [3] while constructing the ball of dung -destined to contain its eggs, let it roll into a hole, whence the -insect tried long and vainly to extract it. Finding this only waste of -time, he hastened to a neighbouring heap of manure to seek three of his -kind, which, uniting their efforts to his, succeeded in getting out the -ball, and then went back to their own work.” - -I humbly beg pardon of my illustrious master, M. Blanchard, but -assuredly things do not happen thus. First, the two accounts are so -much alike that they must have had a common origin. After observations -not followed up closely enough to merit blind confidence, Illiger put -forward the story of his Gymnopleurus, and the same fact has been -attributed to the Scarabæus because it really is a common thing to find -two of these insects busy rolling a ball, or getting it out of some -difficult position. But the partnership does not at all prove that one -went to ask help from the other in some difficulty. I have had a large -measure of the patience recommended by M. Blanchard; I may claim to -have spent long days in the intimacy of Scarabæus sacer; I have tried -every means to comprehend its manners and customs, and to study them -from life, and never did I see anything which suggested that one had -called its companions to its aid. As I shall presently relate, I have -put the dung-beetle to proofs far more serious than that of a ball -fallen into a hole, and into far graver difficulties than having to -climb a slope—a thing which is mere sport for the obstinate Sisyphus, -who seems to enjoy the rough gymnastics required by steep places, as if -the ball grew thereby firmer, and therefore more valuable. I have -invented situations where the insect had extreme need of help, and -never could I detect any proof of good offices between comrades. I have -seen pillaged and pillagers, and nothing else. If a number of beetles -surrounded the same ball, it meant battle. My humble opinion is that -several Scarabæi gathered round a pellet with intent to thieve was what -gave rise to these stories of comrades called in to give a helping -hand. Incomplete observations have turned an audacious robber into a -serviceable companion who put his own work aside to do a friendly turn. -It is no slight thing to admit that an insect has a truly surprising -grasp of the situation and a facility of communication between -individuals more surprising still; therefore I insist on this point, -Are we to suppose that a Scarabæus in distress conceives the idea of -begging for help?—flies off, explores the country round to find -comrades at work on a dropping, and having found them, by some -pantomime, especially by movements of the antennæ, addresses them more -or less thus: “Hullo, you there! My load is upset in a hole yonder; -come and help me to get it out. I will do as much for you another -time.” And are we to suppose too that his colleagues understand him? -And, more wonderful still, that they leave their work, their ball newly -begun, their beloved ball, exposed to the greed of others, and certain -to be filched during their absence, in order to help the supplicant! I -am profoundly incredulous of so much self-sacrifice, and my incredulity -is borne out by all which I have seen during many long years, not in -collection boxes, but on the spots where the Scarabæi work. Outside of -the cares of maternity—cares in which it almost always shows itself -admirable, the Insect—unless, indeed, it lives in society like bees and -ants and some others—thinks and cares for nothing but itself. - -Let us drop this discussion, excused by the importance of the subject. -I have already said that a Scarabæus, owner of a ball which it is -pushing backwards, is often joined by another which hastens to its aid -with interested views, ready to rob if it gets the chance. Let us call -the pair associates, though that is hardly the name for them, since one -forces itself on the other, who perhaps only accepts help for fear of -worse. The meeting is, however, perfectly peaceable. The arrival of the -assistant does not distract the proprietor for an instant from his -labours; the newcomer seems animated by the best intentions, and -instantly sets to work. The way they harness themselves is different -for each. The owner of the ball occupies the chief position, the place -of honour; he pushes behind the load, his hind feet upraised, his head -downward. The helper is in front, in a reverse position, head raised, -toothed arms on the ball, long hind legs on the ground. Between the two -moves the ball, pushed before it by the one, dragged towards it by the -other. The efforts of the couple are not always harmonious, especially -as the assistant turns his back to the road to be traversed, and the -view of the owner is bounded by his load. Hence repeated accidents and -ludicrous tumbles, taken cheerfully, each hastening to pick himself up -and resume his former position. On level ground this style of draught -does not answer to the expenditure of energy, for want of precision in -combined movements; the Scarabæus behind would do as well or better -alone, and the assistant, having proved his goodwill at the risk of -disturbing the mechanism, decides to keep quiet of course without -abandoning the precious globe, which he looks on as already his. A ball -touched is a ball acquired. He will not be so imprudent as to let go; -the other would instantly take advantage of it. So he folds his legs -under him, flattens himself, incrusts himself, as it were, on the ball, -and becomes part of it. Ball and beetle roll together, pushed along by -the lawful owner. Whether it should go over the body of the other, -whether he be above, below, or on one side of the rolling load, matters -not—the intruder lies low. A singular helper this, who lets himself be -run over for the sake of a share in the provender! But let them come to -a steep incline, and he gets a chance of displaying his usefulness. On -the steep slope he takes the lead, holding up the heavy load with his -toothed feet while his comrade steadies himself to hoist the load a -little higher. Thus, by a combination of judicious efforts, I have seen -them mount ascents, the one above holding up, the lower one pushing, -where all the obstinate efforts of a single beetle must have failed. -All, however, have not the same zeal in difficult moments; some, just -when their assistance is most wanted on a slope, do not appear in the -least aware that there is anything to overcome. While the unhappy -Sisyphus is exhausting himself in efforts to surmount his difficulties, -the other remains passive, incrusted on the ball, rolling down with it, -and forthwith hoisted up again. - -I have often tried the following experiment on two associates in order -to judge of their inventive faculties in a serious predicament. Let us -suppose them on level ground, the assistant firmly seated on the ball, -the other pushing. Without disturbing the latter, I nail the ball to -the ground with a long, strong pin; it comes to a sudden stop. The -beetle, unaware of my treachery, doubtless believes in some rut, some -dandelion root or pebble stopping the way. He redoubles his efforts, -struggles his hardest, but nothing moves. What has happened? Let us go -and see. Twice or thrice he walks round his pellet. Discovering nothing -which can explain its immovableness, he goes behind and pushes again. -The ball remains motionless. Let us look above. He climbs up to find -nothing but his motionless colleague, for I have taken care to drive -the head of the pin in deep enough to hide the head in the mass of the -ball. He examines the summit and again descends; fresh thrusts are -vigorously applied in front and on either side with the same want of -success. Certainly no scavenger beetle ever yet found himself -confronted by such a problem of inertia. It is the very moment for -claiming assistance, a thing all the more easy that the colleague is -close at hand, squatted on the top of the dome. Will the Scarabæus give -him a shake, or address him somewhat thus: What are you about, lazy -bones? Come and look here; something has broken down. Nothing proves -that he does so, for the beetle long persists in trying to move the -immovable, examining now on this side, now on that, now above, now -below, while his friend still remains quiescent. In the end, however, -the latter becomes aware that something unusual is going on; it is -brought home to him by the uneasy comings and goings of his companion -and by the immobility of the ball, so in his turn he comes down to look -into the matter. Double harness does not prove more effectual than -single, and matters grow complicated. The little fans of their antennæ -open and shut, open again, quiver and betray their lively anxiety. Then -a stroke of genius ends their perplexities. Who knows what may be -underneath? They explore below the ball, and a slight excavation -reveals the pin. They recognise at once that the crux is there. Had I a -voice in the matter I should have said, “An excavation must be made, -and the stake which holds the ball must be got out.” This very -elementary proceeding, and one so easy to such expert excavators, was -not adopted nor even attempted. The scavenger beetle was cleverer than -the man. The two colleagues, one on this side, one on that, insinuated -themselves under the ball, which slipped up along the pin in proportion -as the living wedges raised it, the softness of the material allowing -of this clever manœuvre. Soon the ball was suspended at a height equal -to that of the beetles’ bodies. What remained to do was more difficult. -From lying flat they gradually got on their legs and pushed upward with -their backs. It was hard to accomplish, the feet losing strength the -more they stretched upward, but they did it. Then came a moment when -they could no longer use their backs to push, the highest point -possible being reached. There was a last resource, but one much less -favourable to the development of strength. Now in one of the postures -in which it drags a ball, now in the other,—that is to say, either head -downward or the reverse,—the insect pushes with hind or fore feet. -Finally, unless the pin be too long, the ball drops to the ground. The -perforation is repaired as best it can be, and the ball is at once -dragged onward. - -But if the pin should be too long, the ball remains suspended at a -height which the insect cannot increase by rearing itself up. In this -case, after vain evolutions around the inaccessible maypole, the -beetles give up the struggle, unless you are kind-hearted enough to -complete the work yourself, and restore their treasure, or unless you -aid them by raising the floor with a little flat stone, a pedestal from -whence the insect can continue its work. Its use does not seem to be -immediately understood, for neither beetle shows any readiness to -profit by it. However, by chance or otherwise, one gets on the stone. -Oh, joy! as it passed it felt the ball touch its back. Thereupon -courage returns, and the struggle begins again. Standing on its -platform the beetle stretches its joints, rounds its back, and hoists -the pellet. When that no longer avails, it manœuvres with its feet, now -upright, now head downward. There is a new pause and new signs of -uneasiness when the limit of extension is reached. Without disturbing -the creature let us put another little stone on the first. By the help -of the new step, which gives a support for its levers, the insect -pursues its task. Adding one step to another as required, I have seen -the Scarabæus, perched on a shaky pile of three or four fingers’ -breadth, persisting in its labour until the ball was completely freed. - -Had it some vague consciousness of the services rendered by the -elevation of its point of leverage? I cannot believe it, although the -beetle profited very cleverly by my platform of little stones, for if -the very elementary idea of using a higher base to reach something too -elevated was not beyond it, how was it that neither beetle bethought -him of offering his back to the other, thus rendering the task -possible? One assisting the other, they might have doubled the height -attained. They are far indeed from any such combinations. Here, each -pushes the ball with all its might, but pushes as if alone, without -seeming to suspect the happy result which would be brought about by a -combined effort. When the ball is fastened to the ground by a pin, they -behave as they would when the ball is stopped by a loop of dandelion, -or held by some slender bit of stalk which has got into the soft, -rolling mass. My artifice brought about a stoppage not unlike those -which occur when the ball is rolling amid the many inequalities of the -ground, and the insect acts as it would have acted in some -circumstances where I had not interfered. It uses its back as a wedge -and lever and pushes with its feet without at all varying its means of -action, even when it might call a comrade to its help. - -If it has to face the difficulties of a ball nailed to the ground with -no assistant, its dynamic manœuvres are exactly the same, and it -succeeds, so long as we give the indispensable help of a platform -gradually built up. Should this help be refused, the Scarabæus, no -longer stimulated by the touch of its beloved ball, loses hope, and -sooner or later, no doubt with bitter regret, flies off, whither I know -not. What I do know is, that it does not return with a squadron of -companions whom it has implored to help it. What could it do with them, -since it cannot utilise even the single comrade when one shares the -ball? Perhaps, however, an experiment which suspends the pellet at a -height inaccessible to the insect when its means of action are -exhausted may be too much outside of ordinary conditions. Let us try a -miniature ditch, deep enough and steep enough to prevent a beetle when -placed at the bottom with its load from rolling it up. These are the -exact conditions named by Blanchard and Illiger. What happens? When -persistent yet fruitless efforts show the beetle that it can do -nothing, it spreads its wings and flies off. Long, very long have I -waited, on the faith of what these learned men say, expecting it to -return with its friends, but I have always waited in vain. Often, too, -many days later I have found the ball just where I tried the -experiment, either at the top of the pin or at the bottom of the hole, -proving that nothing fresh had happened. A pellet abandoned from -necessity is abandoned for good and all, without salvage by the help of -other beetles. Dexterous use of wedge and lever to move the arrested -ball is the highest intellectual effort I have ever seen in the -Scarabæus sacer. As a counterpoise to what experiment refutes, namely, -an appeal for help to brother beetles, I very willingly chronicle this -feat of mechanics for the glorification of the Scarabæus. Straying over -sandy plains thickset with thyme, ruts, and slopes, the ball is rolled -for a while by the two partners, the material thus acquiring a firmness -which they probably find palatable. By and by a favourable spot is -selected. The proprietor, who has always kept the place of honour -behind the ball and is the one who performs almost the whole work of -draught, begins to hollow out the dining-room. Beside him is the ball, -to which his associate clings, motionless. Head and toothed legs attack -the sand, flinging quantities backward, and the excavation advances -rapidly. Soon the insect disappears therein. Each time that he brings a -load to upper air he never fails to glance at the ball to make sure -that all is going on well. Now and again he brings it nearer to the -edge of the cavity, feels it, and seems to gain new zeal from its -contact. The other beetle, hypocrite that he is, continues to inspire -confidence by his motionless attitude on the ball. Meanwhile, the -underground hall grows larger and deeper, and the excavator appears -more rarely, hindered by the extent of his labours. The moment is -favourable, the sleeper rouses up. The crafty partner decamps with the -ball, dragging it behind him with the haste of a thief fearing to be -caught in the act. This abuse of trust rouses my ire, but I let it pass -in the interest of the story—time enough to interfere on behalf of -morality if the upshot threaten to turn out ill. - -Already the thief is some yards away. The robbed beetle comes up from -his hole, looks, and finds nothing. No doubt he has himself had a hand -in like proceedings. Scent and sight soon put him on the track and he -hurriedly comes up with the robber, whereupon this sly dog promptly -changes his position, gets on his hind legs and clasps the ball with -his toothed arms as he does when acting helper. Ah, you rascal! I see -through you! you would excuse yourself by declaring that the ball -rolled down the slope, and that you are trying to stop it and take it -home. I, however, who am an impartial witness, assert that the ball, -being well balanced at the mouth of the hole, did not move of its own -accord. Besides, the ground is level. I affirm that I saw you set it in -motion and make off with unequivocal intentions. It was an attempt at -larceny or I know nothing about it. My evidence not being taken into -consideration, the owner listens mildly to his companion’s excuses, and -the two roll the ball back as if nothing had happened. - -But if the thief can get far enough away, or can conceal his track by -adroitly doubling back, the loss is irreparable. To have collected -provisions under a fiery sun, to have conveyed them a weary way, to -have hollowed out a comfortable banqueting hall in the sand, and then, -just when all is ready, and appetite whetted by toil lends charms to -the prospect of the approaching feast, to find one’s self suddenly -robbed by a companion is certainly a reverse of fortune that would try -most people’s courage. But the dung beetle does not allow itself to be -cast down by this malicious blow of fate; it rubs its cheeks, spreads -its antennæ, sniffs the air, and flies to the nearest heap to begin -again. This is a trait of character which I admire and envy. - -Let us suppose the Scarabæus lucky enough to have met with a reliable -partner, or, better still, that he has no self-invited associate. The -hole is ready, made in friable earth, usually in sand, rather shallow, -about the size of one’s fist, communicating with the outer air by a -short passage, just wide enough to let the ball pass. As soon as the -provender is introduced, the Scarabæus shuts itself in, stopping up the -mouth of the passage with fragments kept in reserve in a corner. Once -the door is closed, nothing outside betrays the banqueting hall. And -now hurrah! all is for the best, in the best of all possible worlds. -The table is sumptuously laid, the ceiling tempers the heat of the sun, -only allowing a gentle moist heat to penetrate; the calm, the darkness, -the concert given by the field-cricket overhead, all favour digestion. -Carried away by my interest, I have caught myself listening at the -door, believing that I heard sung at table the famous - - - Ah! how sweet ’tis nought to do - When all around is endless stir. - - -from the opera of Galathea. - -Who would dare disturb the beatitude of such a banquet? Alas! the -desire for knowledge makes one capable of anything, and I have not -shrunk from even this. I now give the result of thus violating the -sanctity of home-life. The ball filled almost the whole space, the -magnificent store of victuals rising from floor to ceiling, a narrow -passage separated it from the walls. In this sat the banqueters, two at -most, often but one, their faces to the table, their backs to the wall. -When once they have taken their places nobody stirs, all their vital -powers are absorbed by the digestive faculties. No little movement -which might cause the loss of a mouthful, no daintiness which might -waste the food—everything must be done decently and in order. To see -them thus absorbed round a lump of dung, one would say that they were -aware of their rôle as earth-cleansers, and consciously devoted -themselves to that marvellous chemistry which out of impurity brings -the flower that gladdens the eye, and the wing-cases of the Scarabæus -which adorn the turf in springtime. To fit it for this all-important -work, which turns into living matter the residue that horse and sheep -cannot utilise, in spite of the perfection of their digestive organs, -the dung beetle needs special tools. Accordingly anatomy shows the -immense length of its intestine, which, folded repeatedly on itself, -slowly deals with the material in its manifold circuits, and exhausts -the very last atom capable of being used. Where the stomach of the -herbivorous animal can extract nothing, this powerful alembic draws -riches which under its influence become the ebony mail of the Scarabæus -sacer, and a cuirass of gold and rubies for other species. Sanitary -principles require that this marvellous change be made as rapidly as -possible; therefore the Scarabæus is endowed with a matchless power of -digestion. Once shut up with food, it never ceases to eat and digest -until the whole store is devoured. Proof of this is easily come by. -Open the cell where it has retired from the world at any hour and you -find the insect eating, and behind it, still attached to the creature, -is a continuous cord, rolled carelessly like a bundle of cables. -Without going into particulars, we can guess what this cord represents. -Mouthful by mouthful the great ball passes into the digestive organs, -yielding up its nutritive principle, and reappearing spun into a rope. -Now this unbroken cord, often without a joint and always hanging from -the orifice, proves, with absolute certainty, how continuous is the -action of digestion. By the time that the food is nearly eaten, the -rope is astonishingly long. Where else could one find another stomach, -that, to avoid any loss in the debit and credit ledger of life, can -feast for a week or a fortnight on such miserable cheer? When the whole -mass has been digested, the hermit returns to daylight, seeks, finds, -and shapes a new ball, and begins all over again. This royal life lasts -one or two months, from June to July; then, with the coming of the -fierce heat, which the grasshoppers love, the Scarabæi take up summer -quarters and bury themselves in the cool earth. With the first rains -they reappear, less numerous and less active than in spring, but -apparently taken up by the all-important task of continuing their race. - - - - - - - - - -II - -THE ENCLOSURE - - -If you seek among writers for information as to the habits of Scarabæus -sacer in particular, and on the dung robbers in general, you find that -science has not got beyond some of the beliefs current in the time of -the Pharaohs. We are told that the ball which is dragged along contains -an egg, and is a cradle where the larva will find board and lodging. -The parents roll it over rough ground to make it round, and when shocks -and shakes and tumbles all along the slopes have shaped it properly, -they bury it and abandon it to mother earth. - -So rough a start in life always seemed to me unlikely. How could a -beetle’s egg, so tender and fragile as it is, endure the rocking of its -rolling cradle? There exists in the germ a spark of life which the -slightest touch, the merest trifle, can extinguish, and is it likely -that the parents should take it into their heads to lug it about over -hill and dale for hours? Not they; maternal tenderness does not subject -its progeny to the martyrdom of Regulus. - -However, something more than logical reasoning was required to sweep -away received opinions. I therefore opened hundreds of balls rolled by -the dung beetles and others out of holes dug under my eyes, and never, -never did I find either a central niche or an egg in the pellets. They -are invariably rough heaps of food, hastily shaped, with no particular -structure inside them, merely provender with which the beetles shut -themselves up to enjoy an orgy in peace for some days. They covet and -steal them with an energy which they certainly would not show if it -implied new family cares. It would be absurd for one Scarabæus to steal -the eggs of another, each having enough to do in securing the future of -its own. So on that point no more doubt can exist; the balls rolled by -beetles never contain eggs. - -My first attempt to resolve the thorny question as to the bringing up -of the larva was by constructing an ample enclosure with an artificial -soil of sand and soil constantly renewed. Some twenty Scarabæus sacer -were introduced, together with Copris, Gymnopleurus, and Onthophagus, -and never did entomological experiment cost me so many mortifications. -The main difficulty was to renew the food. My landlord owned a stable -and a horse. I gained the confidence of his servant, who first laughed -at my plans, and then allowed himself to be gained over by a silver -coin. Every breakfast for my beetles cost twopence halfpenny; never -before did the budget of a scavenger beetle amount to such a sum, I can -still see and shall always see Joseph, as, when after grooming his -horse of a morning, he would raise his head a little above the wall -between the two gardens and call “Heigh! heigh!” on which I would hurry -to receive a pot of manure. Discretion on both sides was necessary, as -will be seen. One day his master appeared at the moment of transfer, -and made up his mind that all his manure went over the wall, and that -what he wanted for his cabbages went to grow my verbenas and narcissus. -Vainly did I try to explain; my explanations seemed to him mere jests. -Joseph got a sound scolding, was called this and that, and threatened -with dismissal if it happened again. It did not. - -I still had the resource of going bashfully along the road with a twist -of paper to gather up stealthily provisions for my pupils. I did so, -and do not blush for it. Sometimes fate was kind. A donkey carrying the -produce of the market-gardens of Château-Renard and Barbentane to -Avignon would depose an offering as he passed my door. Such a gift, -instantly collected, enriched me for several days. In short, by hook or -by crook, by watching for a dropping, or turning diplomatist to get -one, I succeeded in feeding my captives. If success is earned by an -experiment conducted with a fervour that nothing can discourage, my -experiment deserved to prosper. It did not. After some time my -Scarabæi, consumed by home-sickness in a space which deprived them of -their wider movements, let themselves die miserably without revealing -their secret. Gymnopleurus and Onthophagus responded better to my -expectations. In due time I shall use the information furnished by -them. - -Along with my attempts at education in an enclosed space, I carried on -direct researches, the results of which were far from what I desired. I -felt that I must have assistants. Just then a joyous band of children -were crossing the high land. It was a Thursday, and oblivious of school -and hated lessons, an apple in one hand and a piece of bread in the -other, they were coming from the neighbouring village of Les Angles and -wending their way to search on the bare hill where the bullets drop -when the garrison is shooting at a mark. A few bits of lead, worth -about a halfpenny, were the object of this early morning expedition. - -The tiny rosy flowers of wild geranium enamelled the turf which for a -brief moment beautified this Arabia Petrea; the water wagtail, half -black, half white, uttered its scornful cry as it fluttered from one -point of rock to another; on the threshold of burrows, dug at the foot -of tufts of thyme, the field-crickets filled the air with their -monotonous symphony. And the children were happy in this festival of -spring—happier still at their prospective riches—that halfpenny which -they would get in return for the bullets they would find, that -halfpenny which would enable them next Sunday to buy at the stall set -up before the church two peppermint bull’s-eyes—two great bull’s-eyes -at a farthing apiece! - -I accosted the tallest, whose wide-awake air gave me hopes of him; the -little ones formed a circle, each munching his apple; I explained the -matter and showed them Scarabæus sacer rolling his ball, and told them -that in a like ball, buried somewhere, I knew not where, a hollow is -sometimes found, and in this hollow a grub. The thing to be done was to -search about and watch the beetles in order to find such a ball. Those -with no maggot would not count. To stimulate the children by a fabulous -sum which would henceforward secure to me the time hitherto devoted to -some farthing’s worth of lead, I promised a franc, a lovely new coin -worth twenty halfpennies, for each inhabited ball. At the mention of -this sum eyes opened wide with delightful naïveté. I had quite upset -their ideas on the subject of money by naming this exorbitant price as -the value of a piece of dirt. Then, to show I was in good earnest, I -distributed some halfpence to clinch the bargain. The following week at -the same day and hour I was to appear at the same place and faithfully -perform the conditions of our compact towards all who should have made -the precious discovery. Having thoroughly posted up all the party, I -dismissed the children. “He really means it!” they said as they went -away; “he really means it! If we could only get one apiece!” and with -hearts swelling with sweet hope, they clinked their pence in the hollow -of the hand. The flattened bullets were forgotten. I saw the children -scatter over the plain and hunt about. - -On the appointed day the week after I returned to the tableland -confident of success. My young helpers would no doubt have mentioned -this lucrative trade in beetle-balls to their comrades and shown their -handsels to convince the incredulous. Accordingly I found a larger -party assembled than the first time. On seeing me they ran up, but -there was no eagerness, no shout of joy. I saw that things had gone -ill. Many times on coming out of school had they sought for what I had -described, but in vain. Some balls, found underground with the -Scarabæus, were brought, but they were mere heaps of food, and there -was no grub. Fresh explanations were given and a new appointment was -made for the following Thursday. Again the same want of success. The -seekers, discouraged, were now few. I made a last appeal, but nothing -came of it. Finally, I paid the most zealous, those who had been -faithful to the last, and we dissolved partnership. I could count on no -one but myself for researches, which seemed simple enough, but really -were exceedingly difficult. Even up to the present time, after many -years, excavations made in favourable spots and hopeful opportunities -have not yet given any clear, consistent result. I am reduced to -combining incomplete observations and to filling up gaps by analogy. -[4] The little which I have seen, together with observations on other -dung beetles—Gymnopleurus, Copris, and Onthophagus—in my enclosure is -summed up in the following statement. - -The ball destined for the egg is not fashioned in public, in the -hurry-scurry of the general workshop. It is a work of art and much -patience, demanding minute care impossible amid a crowd. One must -retire to meditate one’s plans and set to work, so the mother makes a -hollow from four to eight inches deep in the sand. It is a rather -spacious hall, communicating with the outside by a much narrower -gallery. The insect carries down choice materials, no doubt first -rolled into pellets. She must make many journeys, for the contents of -the hole are out of all proportion with the door, and could not be -carried in at once. I recollect a Spanish Copris which, at the moment I -came upon it, was finishing a ball as large as an orange at the bottom -of a burrow only communicating with the outside world by means of a -gallery where I could but just insert my finger. It is true that the -Copris do not roll balls or make long journeys to fetch food. They dig -a hole immediately under the dung, and crawl backward with successive -loads to the bottom of their cavity. The facility for provisioning and -the security offered by working under the manure favour a taste for -luxury not to be expected in the same degree among beetles belonging to -the rude trade of ball-rollers; but should it return two or three -times, Scarabæus sacer can amass wealth of which Copris hispanica might -well be jealous. - -So far the insect has only raw material, put together anyhow. The first -thing to do is to select very carefully, taking what is most delicate -for the inner layers, upon which the larva will feed, and the coarser -for the outer ones which merely serve as a protecting shell. Then -around a central hollow which receives the egg the materials must be -arranged layer after layer, according to their decreasing fineness and -nutritive value; the strata must be made consistent and adhere one to -another; and finally, the bits of fibre in the outside crust, which has -to protect the whole thing, must be felted together. How can the -Scarabæus, clumsy and stiff as it seems, accomplish such a work in -complete darkness, at the bottom of a hole so full of provisions that -there is barely room to move? When I think how delicate is the work -done and how rude the tools of the workman,—of the angular feet fitted -to hollow the ground, and, if need be, even tufa,—I am reminded of an -elephant trying to make lace. Explain who can this miracle of maternal -industry; I give it up, especially as it has not been my good fortune -to see the artist at work. Let us restrict ourselves to describing this -masterpiece. - -The ball which contains the egg is generally as large as a middle-sized -apple. In the midst is an oval cavity about a centimetre in diameter. -At the bottom is the egg, fixed vertically; it is cylindrical, rounded -at each end, yellowish-white, about as large as a grain of wheat, but -shorter. The wall of the hollow is washed over with a greenish-brown, -semi-fluid matter, manure cream, destined as the first food of the -larva. Does the mother collect the quintessence of the dung to make -this delicate food? The look of it tells me that it is a pap prepared -in the maternal stomach. The pigeon softens grain in its crop, and -turns it into a kind of milk food which it disgorges for its nestlings. -It would seem that the beetle shows the same tender care. It half -digests the choice food, and disgorges it in the shape of a delicate -film to line the walls of the cavity where the egg is laid. Thus, when -first hatched, the larva finds food easy of digestion, which rapidly -strengthens its stomach and allows it to attack the under layers which -lack the same refinement of preparation. Under the semi-fluid paste is -a choice pulp, compact and homogeneous, whence every particle of fibre -is banished. Beyond are the coarser strata where vegetable fibres -abound, and finally the outside of the ball is composed of the coarsest -materials felted together into a resistant shell. Manifestly there is a -progressive change of diet. On issuing from the egg the feeble grub -licks the fine paste on the walls of its dwelling. There is but little -of it, still it is strengthening and of high nutritious value. To the -bottle of early infancy succeeds the pap of the weanling, intermediate -between the dainty fare of the start and the coarse nourishment at the -end. This layer is thick enough and abundant enough to make the maggot -into a robust grub. Then, strong food for the strong, barley bread with -its husks, raw dung full of sharp bits of hay. The larva is -superabundantly provisioned with it, and, having attained its growth, -comes to the imprisoning outer layer. The capacity of the dwelling has -increased with that of its inhabitant. The small original cavity with -its excessively thick walls is now a large cell with sides only a few -lines thick. The inner layers have turned into larva, nymph, or -Scarabæus, as the case may be. In short, the ball is now a shell, -hiding within its spacious interior the mysteries of metamorphosis. - -My observations go no further; my certificates of the birth and -condition of the Scarabæus do not go beyond the egg; I have not -actually seen the larva which, however, is known and described by -various authors. Neither have I seen the perfect insect while yet -enclosed in the cell, previous to exercising its functions as -ball-roller and excavator, and that is exactly what I should most have -desired to see. I should have liked to find the creature in its -birthplace, recently transformed, new to all labour, so that I might -have examined the worker’s hand before it set to its tasks, and for the -following reason. - -Insects have each foot terminated by a kind of finger or tarsus, -composed of a series of delicate portions which may be compared to the -joints of our fingers. They end in a crooked nail. One claw to each -foot is the rule, and this claw, at least in the case of the superior -Coleoptera, especially the scavenger beetles, contains five joints. Now -by a strange exception, the Scarabæus has no tarsi on its forefeet, -while possessing well-shaped ones with five joints on the two other -pairs. They are imperfect, maimed, wanting in their front limbs in that -which represents, roughly indeed, our hand in an insect. A like anomaly -is found in the Onitis and Bubas, also of the scavenger family. -Entomology has long noted this curious fact without being able to give -a satisfactory explanation. Is it a birth imperfection? Does the beetle -come into the world without fingers on its front limbs, or does it lose -them as soon as it enters on its toilsome labours? - -One might easily suppose such mutilation a consequence of the insect’s -hard work. To grope, to excavate, to rake, to divide now among the -gravel in the soil, now in the fibrous mass of manure, is not a work in -which organs so delicate as the tarsi can be used without danger. Yet -graver is it that when the insect is rolling its ball backward, head -downward, it is with the end of the forefeet that it grips the ground. -What becomes of the weak feet, no thicker than a thread, in this -perpetual contact with all the inequalities of the soil? They are -useless—merely in the way, and sooner or later they are bound to -disappear, crushed, torn off, worn out. Our workmen, alas! are too -often maimed by handling heavy tools, and lifting great weights, and -the same may be the case with the Scarabæus which rolls a ball that to -it is a huge load. In that case the maimed arms would be a noble -certificate of a life of toil. - -But serious doubts at once suggest themselves. If these mutilations be -accidental, and the result of laborious work, they should be the -exception, not the rule. Because a workman or several workmen have had -a hand crushed in machinery, it does not follow that all others should -be maimed. If the Scarabæus often, or even very often, loses the -fore-claws in its trade of ball-roller, there must be some which, -cleverer or more fortunate, have preserved their tarsi. Let us then -consult facts. I have observed a very large number of the species of -Scarabæus which inhabit France, the S. sacer, common in Provence; S. -semipunctatus, which is seldom found far from the sea, and frequents -the sandy shores of Cette, Palavas, and of the Gulf of Juan; also S. -longicollis, which is much more widely spread than the two others, and -found at least as far up the Rhône Valley as Lyons. Finally, I have -observed an African kind, S. cicatricosus, found in the environs of -Constantine, and the want of tarsi on the forefeet has proved -invariable in all four species, at all events as far as my observations -go. Therefore the Scarabæus is maimed from birth, and it must be no -accident but a natural peculiarity. - -Moreover, we have further proof in another reason. Were the absence of -fore-claws accidental, and the consequence of rough labour, there are -other insects, especially among the scavenger beetles, which undertake -excavations yet more difficult than those of the Scarabæus, and which -ought therefore to be still more liable to lose their front claws, as -these are useless and in the way when the foot has to serve as a strong -tool for excavation. For instance, the Geotrupes, who deserve their -name of Earth-piercer so well, make hollows in the hard and beaten soil -of paths among pebbles cemented by clay—vertical pits so deep that to -reach the lowest cell one has to use powerful digging tools, and even -then one does not always succeed. Now these miners par excellence, who -easily open long galleries in surroundings whose surface the Scarabæus -sacer could hardly disturb, have their front tarsi intact, as if to -perforate tufa were a work calling for delicacy rather than strength. -Everything then points to the belief that, if observed in its natal -cell, the baby Scarabæus would be found mutilated like the veteran who -has travelled the world and grown worn with labour. - -On this absence of fingers might be based an argument in favour of the -theories now in fashion—the struggle for life and the evolution of the -species. One might say that the Scarabæus had originally tarsi on all -its feet in conformity with the general laws of insect organisation. -One way or another, some have lost these embarrassing appendages on -their forefeet, they being hurtful rather than useful. Finding -themselves the better for this mutilation, which proved favourable to -their work, little by little they gained a superiority over the less -favoured ones, founded a race by transmitting their fingerless stumps -to their descendants, and finally, the primitively fingered insect -became the fingerless Scarabæus of our time. I am willing to agree to -this reasoning if it could first be demonstrated why, with like -labours,—labours even far harder,—the Geotrupes has preserved his -tarsi. Meantime let us continue to believe that the first Scarabæus who -rolled a ball, perhaps on the shores of some lake where bathed the -Palæotherium, was as much without tarsi as him of our own day. - - - - - - - - - -III - -CERCERIS BUPRESTICIDA - - -Every one has met with books which, according to his turn of mind, have -been epoch-making, opening to him horizons whose very existence he had -never guessed. They throw wide open the gates of a new world where -henceforward he will use his mental powers; they are the spark which, -falling on a hearth, kindles into flame materials otherwise never -utilised. And very often it is mere chance which puts into our hands -some book which makes a new starting-point in the evolution of our -ideas. The most casual circumstance, a few lines which happen to come -under our eye, decide our future and impel us into the path which -thenceforward we shall follow. One winter evening, beside a stove where -the ashes were yet warm, while my family slept, I was forgetting, while -I read, all the cares of the morrow—the black cares of the professor of -physics, who, after having piled one university diploma on another and -rendered for a quarter of a century services whose merit was not -denied, earns for himself and family 1600 francs—less than a groom in a -well-to-do household. Such was the shameful parsimony of that day in -educational matters; thus did Red tape will it. I was a free-lance, son -of my solitary studies. Thus, amid my books I was putting aside acute -professorial worries when I chanced to light on an entomological -pamphlet which had come into my hands I forget how. It was by the -patriarch of entomology of that day, the venerable savant Léon Dufour, -on the habits of a Hymenopteron whose prey was the Buprestis. Certainly -long ere this I had felt a great interest in insects; from childhood I -had delighted in beetles, bees, and butterflies; as far back as I can -recollect I see myself enraptured by the splendours of a beetle’s -elytra, or the wings of the great Swallowtail butterfly. The materials -lay ready on the hearth, but the spark to kindle them had been lacking. -The accidental perusal of Léon Dufour’s pamphlet was that spark. I had -a mental revelation. So then to arrange lovely beetles in a cork box, -to name and classify was not the whole of science; there was something -far superior, namely, the close study of the structure, and still more -of the faculties of insects. Thrilled by emotion I read of a grand -instance of this. A little later, aided by those fortunate -circumstances which always befriend the ardent seeker, I published my -first entomological work, the complement of Léon Dufour’s. It gained -the honours of the Institute of France, a prize for experimental -physiology being adjudged to it, and—far sweeter reward!—shortly after -I received a most flattering and encouraging letter from the very man -who had inspired me. From far away in the Landes the venerated master -sent me the cordial expression of his enthusiasm, and urged me to -continue my studies. At that recollection my old eyes still grow wet -with a holy emotion. Oh, bright days of illusion, of faith in the -future, what has become of you! - -I hope that the reader will not be sorry to meet with an extract from -the pamphlet which was the starting-point of my own researches, the -more so that it is necessary for the understanding of what follows. So -I will let my Master speak, only abridging slightly:— - - - In all insect history I know of no fact more curious and - extraordinary than that which I am about to relate. It concerns a - species of Cerceris which feeds its progeny on the most splendid - kinds of Buprestis. Let me share with you, my friend, the vivid - impressions gained by studying the habits of this Hymenopteron. In - July 1839 a friend, who lives in the country, sent me two Buprestis - bifasciata, an insect new to my collection, telling me that a kind - of wasp which was carrying one of these pretty beetles had dropped - it on his coat, and that a few minutes later a similar wasp had let - fall another on the ground. In July 1840, having been called in as - physician by my friend, I reminded him of his capture of the - preceding year, and asked about the circumstances. Season and place - corresponding with it, I hoped to do as much myself, but that - particular day was dark and chilly, unfavourable therefore to the - flight of Hymenoptera. Nevertheless, we made a tour of inspection - in the garden walks, and seeing no insects I bethought myself of - seeking in the ground for the homes of burrowing Hymenoptera. A - tiny heap of sand recently thrown up, like a miniature mole-hill, - attracted my attention. Scratching it away, I saw that it masked - the orifice of a gallery descending far down. We carefully dug up - the ground with a spade, and soon caught sight of the shining - elytra of the coveted Buprestis. Soon I not only found wing-cases - but a whole Buprestis, nay, three and four displayed their gold and - emerald. I could not believe my eyes. But that was only the prelude - to my feast. In the chaos caused by my own exhumations a - Hymenopteron appeared and was taken by me; it was the captor of the - Buprestis, trying to escape from amid her victims. I recognised an - old acquaintance, a Cerceris which I have found some two hundred - times in Spain and around Saint Sever. - - But my ambition was far from satisfied. It was not enough to know - ravisher and prey: I wanted the larva for which all this rich store - was laid up. After exhausting the first vein of Buprestis I - hastened to make new excavations. Digging down more carefully I - finally discovered two larvæ, which completed the good fortune of - this campaign. In less than an hour I turned over three haunts of - the Cerceris, and my booty was some fifteen whole Buprestids with - fragments of a yet greater number. I calculated, and I believe it - fell far short of the truth, that there were twenty-five nests in - this garden, a fact representing an immense number of buried - Buprestids. What must it be, I said to myself, in localities where - in a few hours I have caught as many as sixty Cerceris on - blossoming garlic, with nests most probably near, and no doubt - provisioned quite as abundantly! Imagination, backed by - probability, showed me underground, within a small space, B. - bifasciata by thousands, although I who have observed the - entomology of our parts for over thirty years have never noticed a - single one. Once only, perhaps twenty years ago, did I see, - sticking in a hole of an ancient oak, the abdomen and elytra of - this insect. This fact was a ray of light, for it told me that the - larva of B. bifasciata must live in the wood of the oak, and - entirely explained the abundance of this beetle in a district where - the forests consist chiefly of that tree. As Cerceris bupresticida - is rare on the clayey hills of the latter stretch of country - compared to the sandy plains where grows Pinus maritima, it became - an interesting question whether this Hymenopteron when it inhabits - the pine region provisions its nest as it does in the oak district. - I had good reason to believe that it did not, and you will soon see - with some surprise how exquisite is the entomological tact of our - Cerceris in her choice of the numerous kind of Buprestids. - - Let us hasten to the pine region to taste new pleasures. The spot - to be explored is a garden belonging to a property in the midst of - forests of the maritime pines. The haunts of the Cerceris were soon - recognised; they were exclusively found in the main paths, where - the beaten and compact soil offered the burrowing Hymenoptera - sufficient solidity for the construction of their subterranean - dwellings. I visited some twenty, and I did it, I may say, by the - sweat of my brow. It is a very laborious kind of exploration, for - the nests and provisions are only found at the depth of one foot, - so that it is necessary to invest the place by a line of square - trenches seven or eight inches from the mouth of the hole, first - inserting a stalk of grass in the gallery by way of clue. One must - sap with a garden spade, so that the central clod, thoroughly - detached all round, may be raised in one piece, then reversed on - the ground and broken up carefully. Such is the manœuvre which I - found successful. You would have shared our enthusiasm at the sight - of the beautiful species of Buprestis which this new style of - research revealed to our eager gaze. You ought to have heard our - exclamations as each time the clod was reversed, new treasures were - revealed rendered yet more brilliant by the hot sun, or when we - discovered the larvæ of every age attached to their prey, or the - cocoons of these larvæ incrusted with copper, bronze, and emerald. - I who had been for three or four times ten years, alas! a practical - entomologist had never beheld such an enchanting sight or had had - such good fortune. We only wanted you to double our enjoyment. With - ever increasing admiration we dwelt now on the brilliant Coleoptera - and now on the marvellous sagacity of the Cerceris which had buried - and laid them up for food. Can you believe it? Out of more than 400 - beetles dug up, there was not one which did not belong to the old - genus Buprestis! Our Hymenopteron had not committed the smallest - error. How much there is to learn from this intelligent industry in - so small an insect! What value Latreille would have attached to the - vote of this Cerceris in favour of the natural system! [5] - - Let us pass on to the various contrivances of the Cerceris in - making and provisioning her nest. I have already said that she - chooses ground whose surface is beaten, compact, and solid. I - should add that this ground must be dry and in full sunshine. This - choice shows an intelligence, or, if you like, an instinct, which - one is tempted to believe is the result of experience. Crumbly - earth or mere sand would of course be easier to work, but then how - construct an orifice which will remain wide open for ingress and - exit, and a gallery whose walls will not constantly fall in, yield, - and become blocked by the least rain? The choice is therefore both - reasonable and perfectly well calculated. - - Our burrowing Hymenopteron hollows her gallery with her mandibles - and front tarsi, which accordingly are furnished with stiff points - to act as rakes. The orifice must not only have the diameter of the - miner’s body, but be able to admit a prey of larger bulk. This - shows admirable forethought. As the Cerceris digs deeper she brings - out the rubbish, and this makes the heap which I compared to a tiny - molehill. The gallery is not vertical, as this would have exposed - it to be filled up by wind or other causes. Not far from the - starting-point it makes an angle; its length is from seven to eight - inches. At the far end the industrious mother establishes the - cradle of her progeny. Five cells, separate and independent of one - another, are hollowed in the shape and nearly of the size of an - olive; within they are solid and polished. Each can contain three - Buprestids, the ordinary allowance for a larva. The Cerceris lays - an egg amid the three victims, and then stops up the gallery with - earth, so that when once the provisions for the brood are laid in, - the cells have no communication with the outside. - - Cerceris bupresticida must be an indefatigable, daring, and skilful - huntress. The cleanness, the freshness of the beetles which she - buries in her den testify that they are seized just as they emerge - from the wooden galleries where their final metamorphosis takes - place. But what inconceivable instinct urges a creature that lives - solely on the nectar of flowers to seek amid a thousand - difficulties animal food for carnivorous offspring, which it will - never see, and to post itself on trees quite unlike one another, - which hide deep in their trunks the insects which are to fall her - victims? What entomological tact, yet more inconceivable, makes her - lay down a strict law to select them in a single generic group, and - to catch species differing very considerably in size, shape, and - colour? You observe how unlike are Buprestis biguttata, with its - slender long body and dark colour; B. octoguttata, oval-oblong, - with great stains of a beautiful yellow on a blue or green ground; - and B. micans, three or four times the size of B. biguttata, with a - splendid metallic greeny gold. - - There is another very singular fact in the manœuvres of our - assassin of Buprestids. The buried ones, like those which I have - seized in the grasp of their murderers, give no sign of life, and - are unquestionably quite dead, yet, as I observed with surprise, no - matter when they are dug up, not only do they keep all their - freshness of colour, but every bit of them—feet, antennæ, palpi, - and the membranes which unite the various parts of their bodies—is - perfectly supple and flexible. At first one supposes the - explanation, as far as concerns the buried ones, to be in the - coolness of the ground, and absence of air and light, and for those - taken from their murderers, in the very recent date of death. But - observe that after my explorations, having isolated in cones of - paper the numerous Buprestids dug up, I have often left them over - thirty-six hours before pinning them out. And yet, notwithstanding - the dryness and great heat of July, I have always found the same - flexibility in the joints. More than this, after that lapse of - time, I have dissected several, and their visceræ were as perfectly - preserved as if I had used my scalpel on the live insect. Now, long - experience has taught me that even in a beetle of this size, when - twelve hours have passed in summer after its death, the interior - organs are either dried up or corrupted so that it is impossible to - be sure of form or structure. There is some peculiarity about - Buprestids put to death by the Cerceris which prevents corruption - or desiccation for a week, or perhaps two. But what is this - peculiarity? - - -To explain this wonderful preservation which makes an insect dead for -several weeks into a piece of game not even high, but, on the contrary, -as fresh as when first caught, and that during the greatest heat of -summer, the skilful historian of Cerceris bupresticida supposes that -there must be an antiseptic liquid acting as do the preparations used -in preserving anatomical specimens. This liquid can only be the poison -injected by the Hymenopteron into the body of the victim. A minute -globule of the venomous humour accompanying the dart or lancet, -destined for this purpose, acts as a kind of pickle or antiseptic fluid -to preserve the flesh on which the larva is to feed. But then how -superior to our processes are those of the Cerceris with regard to -preserved food! We salt or smoke or enclose in tins hermetically sealed -provisions which remain eatable, to be sure, but which are far, very -far from having the qualities of fresh meat. Sardines drowned in oil, -Dutch smoked herrings, cod hardened into slabs by salt and sun,—can any -of these sustain comparison with the same fish brought alive to the -kitchen? For meat properly so-called it is still worse. Beyond salting -and drying we have nothing which even for a short period can keep meat -eatable. At the present time, after innumerable fruitless attempts of -the most varied kind, special ships are equipped at great cost, which, -furnished with powerful freezing apparatus, convey to us the flesh of -sheep and oxen slaughtered in the Pampas of South America, frozen and -kept from corruption by intense cold. How far superior is the method of -the Cerceris, so rapid, so cheap, so expeditious! What lessons we -should have to learn from such transcendental chemistry when an -imperceptible drop of liquid poison renders in an instant the prey -incorruptible! What am I saying?—incorruptible?—that is far from being -all; the game is put into a condition which prevents desiccation, -leaves their suppleness to the limbs, and maintains all the organs in -pristine freshness, both the internal and external. In short, the -Cerceris puts the insect into a state differing only from life by a -corpse-like immobility. - -Such is the conclusion arrived at by Léon Dufour before this -incomprehensible marvel of the dead Buprestis untouched by corruption. -An antiseptic fluid, incomparably superior to anything that human -science could produce, would explain the mystery. He, the Master, -skilful of the skilful, thoroughly used to most delicate anatomy; he -who with magnifying glass and scalpel has scrutinised the whole circuit -of entomology, leaving no corner unexplored; he, in short, for whom the -organisation of insects has no secrets,—can advance no better -conjecture than an antiseptic liquid to give at least a kind of -explanation of a fact which leaves him confounded. Let me insist on -this comparison between the instinct of the animal and the reason of -the sage in order the better to demonstrate in due time the -overwhelming superiority of the former. - -I will add but a few words to the history of the C. bupresticida. This -Hymenopteron, common in the Landes, as we have heard, seems to be rare -in the department of Vaucluse. It is only at long intervals that I have -met with it, in autumn, and always isolated specimens, on the spiny -heads of Eryngium campestre, in the environs of Avignon or round Orange -and Carpentras. In the latter spot, so favourable to burrowing -hymenoptera, from its sandy soil of Mollasse, I had the good fortune, -not indeed of being present at the exhumation of such entomological -riches as Léon Dufour describes, but of finding some old nests which I -feel certain belonged to Cerceris bupresticida, from the shape of the -cocoons, the kind of provender stored up, and the existence of the -Hymenopteron in the neighbourhood. These nests, hollowed in a very -friable sandstone, called safre in those parts, were filled with -remains of beetles, easily recognised, and consisting of detached -wing-cases, empty corslets, and whole feet. Now these remains of the -larva’s feast all belonged to one species, and this was a Buprestis, -Sphænoptera geminata. Thus from the west to the east of France, from -the department of the Landes to Vaucluse, the Cerceris remains faithful -to its favourite prey; longitude does not affect its predilections, a -hunter of Buprestids among the maritime pines of the ocean sand-hills, -it is equally so amid the evergreen oaks and olives of Provence. The -species is changed according to place, climate, and vegetation—causes -influencing greatly the insect population, but the Cerceris keeps to -its chosen genus, the Buprestis. For what strange reason? That is what -I shall try to demonstrate. - - - - - - - - - -IV - -CERCERIS TUBERCULATA - - -With my mind full of the great deeds of the Buprestis hunter, I watched -for an opportunity of observing in my turn the labours of the Cerceris, -and I watched so closely that finally I got my chance. True, it was not -the Hymenopteron celebrated by Dufour, with such sumptuous provisions -that when dug up they made one think of the powder from a nugget broken -by the miner’s pickaxe in some gold field: it was a closely related -species, a giant brigand which contents itself with more modest prey—in -short, Cerceris tuberculata or C. major, the largest and strongest of -the genus. - -The last fortnight in September is the time when our Hymenopteron makes -its burrows, and buries in the depths the prey destined for its brood. -The position of the domicile, always sagaciously chosen, is governed by -those mysterious laws varying with the species, but unchangeable for -any one of them. The Cerceris of Léon Dufour requires a horizontal, -beaten, compact soil, like that of a path, to avoid landslips and -changes which would ruin its gallery with the first rain. Ours, on the -contrary, selects vertical ground. By this slight architectural -modification she avoids most of the dangers which might threaten her -tunnel; therefore she is not particular as to the nature of the soil, -and hollows her gallery either in friable earth with a little clay, or -in the crumbling soil of the Mollasse, which makes the labour of -excavation much easier. The only indispensable condition seems to be -that the soil should be dry, and exposed to the sun for the greater -part of the day. It is therefore in the steep bank along a road, and in -the sides of hollows made by rain in the sandy Mollasse, that our -Hymenopteron makes its abode. Such conditions are frequent near -Carpentras in what is known as the hollow way, and it is there that I -have found C. tuberculata in the greatest abundance, and have collected -most of the facts relating to its history. - -It is not enough to choose this vertical situation; other precautions -are taken to guard against the already advanced season. If some bit of -hard sandstone project like a shelf, or if a hole the size of one’s -fist should have been hollowed naturally in the ground, it will be -under this shelter or in this cavity that the gallery is made, a -natural vestibule being thus added by the Cerceris to its own edifice. -Although there is no kind of community among them, these insects like -to associate in small parties, and I have always found their nests in -groups of about ten, with orifices, though usually far apart, sometimes -touching. - -When the sun shines it is wonderful to see the ways of these -hard-working miners. Some patiently extract bits of gravel from the -bottom of a hole with their mandibles, and push out the heavy mass; -others scratch the walls of their tunnel with the sharp rakes of their -tarsi, forming a heap of rubbish which they sweep out backward, and -send sliding down the steep incline in long dusty streams. It was these -periodical sand waves thrown out of galleries in process of -construction which betrayed my first Cerceris, and led to the discovery -of the nests. Others, either weary, or having completed their hard -task, rested and polished their antennæ and wings under the natural -caves which usually protect their dwelling, or else sat motionless at -the mouth of their holes, only displaying their wide, square faces, -barred with yellow and black. Others again were flying with a deep hum -on the bushes near the cochineal oak, where the males, always on the -watch near the burrows in process of construction, speedily join them. -Couples form, often troubled by the arrival of a second male, which -tries to supplant the happy possessor. The humming grows menacing, -quarrels begin, and often both males roll in the dust until one -acknowledges the superiority of his rival. Not far off the female waits -with indifference the upshot of the struggle, accepting finally the -male bestowed on her by the chances of the fight, and the pair fly out -of sight to seek peace in some distant thicket. Here the part of the -male ends. One half smaller than the females, they prowl about the -burrows but never enter, and never take any part in the hard work of -excavation, or that perhaps yet harder of provisioning the cells. - -In a few days the galleries are ready, especially as after some repairs -those of the preceding year are used again. Other Cerceris, as far as I -know, have no fixed home, transmitted from one generation to another. -True Bohemians, they establish themselves wherever the chances of their -vagabond life may lead them, so long as the soil suits them. But C. -tuberculata is faithful to her penates. The projecting shelf of -sandstone used by its predecessors is used again; it hollows out the -same layer of sand hollowed by its forbears, and, adding its own labour -to theirs, obtains deep-seated retreats sometimes only visited with -difficulty. The diameter of the galleries would admit a thumb, and the -insect can move about easily, even when laden with the prey which we -shall see it capture. Their direction is horizontal, from four to eight -inches, then makes a sudden turn downward more or less obliquely, now -in one direction, now in another. Except the horizontal part, and the -angle of the tunnel, the direction seems to depend on the difficulties -of the ground, as is proved by the windings and changes in the farthest -part of this kind of canal, which is half a yard in length. At the far -end are the cells, not numerous, and provisioned with five or six dead -beetles. But let us leave the details of how a Cerceris builds, and -turn to more wonderful facts. - -The victim chosen to feed the larvæ is a large weevil (Cleonus -ophthalmicus). One sees the captor arrive, carrying the victim between -its feet, body to body, head to head. It alights heavily some way from -the hole to complete the journey without the aid of wings, and drags -the prey laboriously with its jaws, on ground if not vertical, at least -very steeply inclined, which often results in sending captor and -captive headlong to the bottom, but the indefatigable mother finally -darts into her burrow, covered with dust, but with the prey of which -she has never let go. If she does not find walking with such a burden -easy, it is otherwise with her flight, which is surprisingly powerful, -if one considers that the strong little creature is carrying a prey -nearly as large as and heavier than herself. I have had the curiosity -to weigh the Cerceris and her prey separately, and the first weighed -150 milligrammes, and the second about 250, almost double. - -These weights speak eloquently for the vigorous huntress, and I never -wearied of watching how swiftly and easily she resumed her flight, and -rose out of sight with the game between her feet when approached too -closely. But she did not always fly away, and then, though it was -difficult to do so, and yet avoid hurting her, I would make her drop -the prey by worrying and upsetting her with a straw. Then I would take -possession of the victim, and the Cerceris, thus despoiled, would hunt -about, go into her hole for a moment, come out, and resume the chase. -In less than ten minutes the sharp-sighted insect would find a new -victim, murder it and carry it off, not seldom to my profit. Eight -times running have I stolen from the same individual; eight times did -the indefatigable Cerceris resume her fruitless journey. Her -perseverance tired out mine, and I let her keep the ninth capture. - -By this means, and by breaking open cells already filled with -provisions, I got nearly a hundred weevils, and in spite of what I had -a right to expect from what Léon Dufour has told us of the habits of -the Cerceris bupresticida, I could not repress my astonishment at the -sight of the singular collection which I had made. His Cerceris, though -it limits itself to one genus, yet takes any species within that limit, -but the more exclusive C. tuberculata preys exclusively on Cleonus -ophthalmicus. On looking through my booty I met with but one single -exception, and that belonged to a closely allied species, C. -alternans—one which I never met with again in my frequent visits to the -Cerceris. Later researches furnished me with a second exception, -Bothynoderes albidus, and these are all. Can a specially succulent and -savoury prey explain this predilection for a single species? Do the -larvæ find in this unvaried diet juices which suit them peculiarly, and -which they would not find elsewhere? I do not think so, and if Léon -Dufour’s Cerceris hunted all the kinds of Buprestids, no doubt it was -because they all have the same nutritive properties. But this must -generally be the case with all the Curculionidæ; their alimentary -properties must be identical, and in that case this amazing choice can -only be one of size, and therefore of economy of labour and time. Our -Cerceris, the giant of its race, chooses C. ophthalmicus as the largest -in our district, and perhaps the commonest. But if this favourite prey -fail, it must fall back upon other species, even if smaller, as is -proved by the two exceptions above mentioned. - -Moreover, it is by no means the only one to hunt the long-nosed class -of weevils. Many other Cerceris, according to their size, strength, and -the chances of the chase, capture Curculionidæ most various in genus, -species, shape, and size. It has long been known that Cerceris arenaria -feeds her young with similar food. I myself have found in its burrows -Sitona lineata, S. tibialis, Cneorhinus hispidus, Brachyderes gracilis, -Geonemus flabellipes, Otiorhynchus maleficus. Cerceris aurita is known -to prey on Otiorhynchus raucus and Phytonomus punctatus. In the larder -of Cerceris ferreri I saw Phytonomus murinus, P. punctatus, Sitona -lineata, Cneorhinus hispidus, Rhynchites betuleti. This weevil, which -rolls up vine leaves into the shape of cigars, is sometimes of a superb -metallic blue, but more usually of a splendid golden copper. I have -found as many as seven of these brilliant insects laid up in one cell, -and the gorgeous colours of the little heap might almost bear -comparison with the jewels buried by the huntress of the Buprestids. -Other species, especially the weaker, hunt smaller game, the lesser -size being compensated by numbers. Thus, Cerceris quadricincta heaps in -each cell some thirty Apion gravidum, but does not disdain on occasion -bigger weevils, such as Sitona lineata, Phytonomus murinus. Cerceris -labiata also lays up small species. Finally, the smallest Cerceris in -my part of France, C. julii, hunts the least weevils, Apion gravidum -and Bruchus granarius, game proportioned to its own size. To end this -list of provender, let us add that some Cerceris follow other -gastronomic laws, and bring up their families on Hymenoptera. Such is -C. ornata. These tastes being alien to our subject, let us pass on. - -We see that out of eight species of Cerceris which lay up Coleoptera as -food, seven hunt weevils and one Buprestids. What singular reason -confines the chase of these Hymenoptera within such narrow limits? What -are the motives of such an exclusive selection? What internal likeness -is there between the Buprestids and the weevils, outwardly quite -dissimilar, that both should become food for carnivorous and nearly -related larvæ? No doubt between such and such a victim there are -differences as to taste and nutritive qualities which the larvæ -thoroughly appreciate, but there must be a far graver reason than these -gastronomic considerations to explain these strange predilections. - -After all that has been so admirably said by Léon Dufour on the long -and marvellous preservation of the insects destined as food for the -carnivorous larvæ, it is needless to say that the weevils which I dug -up, as well as those taken from between the feet of their murderer, -were perfectly fresh, though permanently motionless. Freshness of -colour, suppleness of the membranes and smallest articulations, normal -condition of the viscera, all combine to make one doubt whether the -inert body under one’s eyes can really be a corpse, all the more that -even under the magnifying glass it is impossible to perceive the -smallest wound; and in spite of one’s self one expects every moment to -see the insect move and walk. Yet more, in weather so hot that insects -which had died naturally would in a few hours have become dried up and -crumbly, or again in damp weather which would with equal rapidity have -made them decay and grow mouldy. I have kept specimens in glass tubes -or cones of paper over a month with no precautions, and wonderful to -say, after all this length of time, the intestines were as fresh as -ever, and I found dissection as easy as if the creatures were alive. -No, in presence of such facts one cannot talk of an antiseptic, and -believe in real death; life is still there—life latent and -passive—vegetative life. It alone, struggling successfully for a time -against the destructive invasion of chemical forces, can thus preserve -the organism from decomposition. Life is still there, but without -motion, and we have under our eyes such a marvel as chloroform or ether -might produce—a marvel caused by the mysterious laws of the nervous -system. - -The functions of this vegetative life are slackened and troubled no -doubt, but still they are feebly exercised. I have the proof of this in -that action of the viscera which takes place normally and at intervals -in the weevils during the first week of that deep slumber, which will -never be broken, and yet which is not death. It only ceases when the -intestine is empty, as is shown by autopsy. But the faint rays of life -which the creature manifests do not stop there; and though sensation -appears annihilated for ever, I have succeeded in reawakening some -vestige of them. Having placed weevils, recently exhumed and absolutely -motionless, in a bottle with sawdust moistened with benzine, I was not -a little surprised to see a quarter of an hour later moving antennæ and -feet. For a moment I thought I could recall them to life. Vain hope! -these movements, last trace of a sensitiveness about to cease, soon -stopped, and could not be excited a second time. I have repeated this -experiment from some hours to several days after the murder, and always -with the same success; only movement is tardy in appearing in -proportion as the date of the victim’s death is distant. The movements -are always from the forepart backward. First, the antennæ move, then -the front tarsi tremble and share in the oscillations; next, the second -pair do the same; and finally, the third. Once movement is excited, all -these members oscillate without any order until all become again -motionless, as they do sooner or later. Unless death has been quite -recent, movement does not go beyond the tarsi, and the legs remain -motionless. - -Ten days after the murder I could not obtain the least sign of -irritability by the proceeding described, and I had recourse to the -Voltaic battery. This is more effective, and provokes muscular -contractions where the vapour of benzine fails. One or two elements of -Bunsen suffice, which are armed with the rheophores of slender needles. -Plunging the point of the one under the furthest ring of the abdomen, -and the point of the other under the neck, you obtain each time that -the current is established, not only the quivering of the tarsi, but a -strong flexion of the feet, which fold themselves under the body, and -relax when the current is interrupted. These movements, very energetic -during the first days, gradually lose intensity, and after a certain -time appear no more. On the tenth day I have still been able to obtain -visible motions, but on the fifteenth the pile was unable to provoke -them, notwithstanding the suppleness of the limbs and freshness of the -viscera. I have submitted also to the action of the pile Coleoptera -really dead, Blaps, Saperda, Lamia, asphyxiated by benzine or -sulphureous gas, and two hours later it was impossible to provoke the -movements obtained so easily from weevils lying already for several -days in the singular state, intermediate between life and death, into -which their redoubtable enemy plunges them. - -All these facts contradict the supposition of an animal completely -dead, and the hypothesis of a real corpse rendered incorruptible by -some antiseptic liquid. One can only explain them by admitting that the -animal is struck in the principle of its movements, and that -sensitiveness, suddenly benumbed, dies slowly out, while the more -tenacious, vegetative functions die yet more slowly and preserve the -intestines during the time necessary for the larva. - -The most important detail to show was how the murder is committed. -Evidently, the chief part must be played by the poisoned dart of the -Cerceris. But where and how does it penetrate the body of the weevil, -covered with a hard cuirass, with pieces so closely joined? Even under -the magnifying glass nothing told where the sting entered. Direct -examination, therefore, was required to discover the murderous ways of -the Cerceris—a problem before whose difficulties Léon Dufour had -already recoiled, and the solution of which seemed to me for a time -impossible. I tried, however, and had the satisfaction of succeeding, -though not without some groping about. - -When they fly from their holes to the chase, the Cerceris go here and -there, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, and return from -all directions, loaded with prey, so that they must seek it on all -sides; but as they barely take ten minutes between going and returning, -the space worked over could not be very great, especially considering -the time necessary to discover the prey, to attack and render it an -inert mass. I, therefore, set myself to examine all the adjacent ground -with close attention, hoping to discover some Cerceris on the hunt. One -afternoon devoted to this weary work convinced me of the uselessness of -my researches, and of the little chance I had of surprising any of the -few Cerceris, scattered here and there, and soon lost to view by their -rapid flight; above all, in difficult ground, planted with olives, I -gave up the attempt. But by carrying live weevils to the neighbourhood -of the nests might I not tempt the Cerceris by a prey found without -trouble, and so observe the drama? The notion seemed good, and the very -next day I set out to find live Cleonus ophthalmicus. Vineyards, -wheat-fields, and crops of lucerne, and heaps of stones did I visit and -examine one and all, and after two days of close search I -possessed—dare I own it?—three weevils! bare, dusty, maimed of antennæ -or tarsi, shabby old creatures which, perhaps, the Cerceris would not -touch! Since the day of that fevered search, when, for a weevil’s sake, -I bathed myself in perspiration during my wild expedition, many a year -has passed, and yet, in spite of almost daily entomological researches, -I am still ignorant of the life and habits of this Cleonus, which I met -here and there, straying on the edge of paths. Wonderful powers of -instinct! in the same spots, and in a fraction of time, one -Hymenopteron would have found hundreds of these insects which man -cannot find, and found them fresh and shining, no doubt just emerged -from the cocoon! - -No matter; let us experiment with my wretched victim. A Cerceris has -just gone into her gallery with her prey; before she comes out for a -new expedition I place a weevil a few inches from her hole. The weevil -moves about; when it strays too far I bring it back to its place. At -last the Cerceris shows her wide face at the mouth of her hole; my -heart beats fast. She walks for a few minutes near her dwelling, sees -the weevil, brushes against it, turns, passes several times over its -back, and flies off without even honouring my captive with a bite—my -captive which cost me so much labour! I was confounded—knocked over. -New attempts at other holes, new disappointments. Decidedly these -dainty hunters will have none of the game which I offer them. Perhaps -they find it too old, too tasteless; perhaps, in handling it, I -communicated some smell to it which displeases them. Foreign contact -disgusts these connoisseurs. - -Should I be more fortunate if I obliged the Cerceris to defend herself? -I enclosed one with a Cleonus in a bottle, irritating them by shaking -it. The Hymenopteron, sensitive by nature, was more impressed than the -other prisoner, with its dull, heavy organisation; she thought of -escape, not attack. Their parts were exchanged; the weevil became the -aggressor, sometimes seizing with the end of its trunk a foot of its -mortal foe, who made no attempt at defence, so terrified was she. I -could devise nothing more; my desire to be present at the dénoûment had -only added to former difficulties. Well, let us try again. - -A luminous idea flashed upon me, bringing hope, so naturally did it -touch the very heart of the question. Of course, it was the right thing -and must succeed. My disdained game must be offered to the Cerceris in -the heat of the chase—then, absorbed and preoccupied, she will not -discover its imperfections. I have already said that on returning from -the chase the Cerceris alights at the foot of the incline at some -distance from the hole, whither she laboriously drags the prey. What I -then had to do was to deprive her of her victim, drawing it away by one -foot with pincers, and instantly throwing her the living weevil in -exchange. This manœuvre succeeded perfectly. As soon as the Cerceris -felt the prey slip under her body and escape her, she stamped with -impatience, turned round, and perceiving the weevil which had replaced -hers, flung herself upon it and clasped it in order to carry it away. -But she promptly perceived that this prey was alive, and then the drama -began and ended with inconceivable rapidity. The Cerceris faced her -victim, seized its proboscis with her powerful jaws and grasped it -vigorously, and while the weevil reared itself up, pressed her forefeet -hard on its back as if to force open some ventral articulation. Then -the tail of the murderess slid under the Cleonus, curved and darted its -poisoned lancet swiftly two or three times at the joining of the -prothorax, between the first and second pair of feet. In a twinkling -all was over. Without one convulsive movement, with no motion of the -limbs such as accompany the death of an animal, the victim fell -motionless for ever, as if annihilated. It was at once wonderful and -terrible in its rapidity. Then the assassin turned the Weevil on its -back, placing herself body to body with it, her legs on either side of -it, and flew off. Three times I renewed the experiment with my three -Weevils, and the same scene was always enacted. - -Of course, each time I gave the Cerceris back her first prey and -withdrew my Cleonus to examine it at greater leisure. This examination -only confirmed my opinion of the terrible skill of the assassin. It is -impossible to find the slightest trace of a wound, or the smallest flow -of vital liquids from the point which was struck. But the most striking -thing is the rapid, complete annihilation of all movement. Vainly did I -seek even immediately after the murder for any trace of sensibility in -the three Weevils done to death under my eyes—neither pinching nor -pricking provoked it; to do so required the artificial means already -mentioned. Thus these robust Cleonus, which, pierced alive with a pin -and fixed by a collector on his fatal sheet of cork, would have -struggled for days, weeks, nay, whole months, instantly lose all power -of motion from the effect of a little prick which inoculates them with -a minute drop of poison. Chemistry knows none so active in so small a -dose; scarcely could prussic acid produce such an effect, if, indeed, -it could do so at all. It is not then to toxology, but to physiology -and anatomy that we must turn to find the cause of such instantaneous -catalepsy; it is not so much the great virulence of the poison -injected, as the importance of the organ injured by it which we must -consider in order to explain these marvels. What, then, is found at the -point where the sting penetrates? - - - - - - - - - -V - -ONE SKILFUL TO SLAY - - -The Hymenopteron has partly revealed her secret by showing us where the -sting strikes. But does that explain the question? Not yet, by any -means. Let us retrace our steps, forget for a moment what the insect -has taught us, and consider the problem set before the Cerceris. The -problem is this: to lay up in an underground cell a certain number of -heads of game which may suffice to nourish the larva hatched from the -egg laid upon the heap of provender. - -At first sight this storing of food appears simple enough, but -reflexion soon discovers graver difficulties. Our own game is brought -down by a shot and killed with horrible wounds. The Hymenopteron has -refinements unknown to us; she chooses to have her prey intact, with -all its elegance of form and colour. No broken limbs, no gaping wounds, -no hideous disembowelment. Her prey has all the freshness of the living -insect; she does not destroy an atom of the fine-coloured powder which -the mere contact of our fingers deflowers. If the insect were really -dead, really a corpse, how difficult it would be for us to obtain such -a result! Any one can slay an insect by stamping brutally on it, but to -kill it neatly leaving no sign is no easy operation, within every one’s -power. How many of us would be at our wits’ end if we had to kill on -the spot, without crushing it, a little creature so tenacious of life -that even beheaded it still goes on struggling! One must have been a -practical entomologist before thinking of asphyxiation, and here, -again, success would be doubtful with the primitive methods of vapour -of benzine or burnt sulphur. In this deleterious atmosphere the insect -struggles too long, and tarnishes its brightness. One must have -recourse to more heroic methods—for instance, to the terrible -exhalations of prussic acid slowly disengaging themselves from strips -of paper impregnated with cyanide of potassium, or better still, as -being without danger to the collector, to the thunderbolt of vapour of -bisulphide of carbon. It requires a real art, an art calling to its aid -the redoubtable arsenal of chemistry, to kill an insect neatly; to do -that is what the elegant method of the Cerceris brings about so -quickly, if we admit the stupid supposition that her prey really -becomes a dead body. - -A dead body! But that is by no means the diet of the larvæ, little -ogres greedy for fresh meat, to whom game ever so slightly tainted -would inspire insurmountable disgust. They must have fresh meat with no -high taste—that first sign of decay. Yet the prey cannot be laid up -alive in the cell like animals destined to furnish fresh meat to the -crew and passengers of a vessel. What would become of a delicate egg -laid among living food? What would become of the feeble larva, a worm -bruised by the slightest thing among vigorous Coleoptera moving their -long spurred legs for whole weeks? It is absolutely necessary—and here -we seem caught in a blind alley—to obtain deathly immobility with the -freshness of life for the interior organs. Before such an alimentary -problem the best instructed man of the world would stand helpless—even -the practised entomologist would own himself at a loss. The larder of -the Cerceris would defy their reasoning powers. - -Let us then imagine an academy of entomologists and physiologists, a -congress where the question should be discussed by Flourens, Majendies, -Claude Bernards. To obtain at once complete immobility and long -preservation of food, the first and most natural and simple idea would -be that of preserved meats. One would invoke some antiseptic liquid, as -the illustrious savant of the Landes did with regard to his Buprestids, -and attribute such virtue to the poisonous fluid of the Cerceris, but -this strange quality has yet to be proved. Gratuitous hypothesis -replacing the unknown quantity of the preserving liquid may perhaps be -the final verdict of the learned assembly, as it was that of the -naturalist of the Landes. - -Should one insist and explain that the larvæ require not preserved food -which could never have the properties of flesh still palpitating, but -prey yet alive, so to say, in spite of complete absence of motion, the -learned Congress, after ripe consideration, will fall back upon -paralysis: “Yes, of course; the creature has to be paralysed without -being killed.” There is but one means of arriving at this result, -namely, to injure, cut, and destroy the nervous system of the insect in -one or more skilfully chosen points. - -If the question be thus left in hands unfamiliar with the secrets of a -delicate anatomy it will not have advanced far. What is the arrangement -of this nervous system which must be paralysed without killing the -insect? First, where is it? In the head no doubt and along the back, -like the brain and spinal marrow in the superior animals. “A grave -mistake!” our congress would reply; the insect is so to say an animal -reversed, which walks on its back—that is, it has the spinal marrow -below instead of above, all along breast and stomach; therefore on the -lower surface alone can the operation to paralyse the insect be -performed. - -This difficulty removed, a far graver one presents itself. Armed with -his scalpel, the anatomist can direct its point where he will in spite -of obstacles which he may have to set aside. The Hymenopteron has no -choice. Its victim is a solidly cuirassed beetle, its lancet a dart, -extremely delicate, which the horny mail would certainly turn aside. -Only certain points are vulnerable to the frail tool, namely, the -joints, protected simply by a membrane with no power of resistance. But -the joints of the limbs, although vulnerable, do not in the least -fulfil the necessary conditions, for through these the utmost that -could be obtained is local paralysis, not one affecting the whole -organism of motion. Without any prolonged struggle, without repeated -operations, which, if too numerous, might endanger the victim’s life, -the Hymenopteron has, if possible, to abolish all motive power at one -blow. Therefore she must direct her dart at the nervous centres, the -source of the power of motion whence radiate the nerves running up to -the various organs of movement. Now these sources of locomotion, these -nervous centres, consist of a certain number of ganglia, more numerous -in the larva, less so in the perfect insect, and arranged on the median -line of the under surface in a string of beads more or less distant and -connected by a double ribbon of nervous tissue. In all insects which -have reached the perfect state the ganglia called thoracic, i.e. those -furnishing nerves to wings and feet and governing their movements, are -three in number. Here are the points to be struck: if their action can -be in any way destroyed, the possibility of movement is destroyed also. - -Two ways of reaching these motive centres offer themselves to the -feeble dart of the Hymenopteron; one, the joint between neck and -corslet; the other the spot where the latter joins the continuation of -the thorax, between the first and second pair of feet. The way through -the neck does not answer; it is too far from the ganglia, which lie -near the base of the feet which they animate. The blow must be dealt at -the other spot, and through that only. Thus would an academy decide -where Claude Bernards illuminated the question by their profound -science. And it is precisely there, between the first and second pairs -of feet on the median line of the under surface, that the Cerceris -plunges her lancet. By what learned intelligence must she be inspired! - -To choose as the spot in which to plant her sting the one vulnerable -point, the point which only a physiologist versed in the anatomy of -insects could determine beforehand is by no means enough; the -Hymenopteron has a far greater difficulty to overcome, and she -overcomes it with a mastery which fills one with amazement. We said -that the nervous centres controlling the organs of motion in an insect -are three. These are more or less distant from each other, but -sometimes, though rarely, near together. They possess a certain -independence of action, so that an injury to one does not cause, at all -events immediately, more than paralysis of members connected with it, -while the other ganglia and their corresponding members are not -affected by it. To reach these three sources of motion one after the -other, the second farther off than the first, and the last farther -still, and by a single way, between the first and second pairs of feet, -seems impossible for the sting, which is too short, and besides, so -difficult to aim well in such conditions. True, certain Coleoptera have -the three ganglia of the thorax almost touching, and others have the -two last completely united, soldered, smelted together. It is also -recognised that in proportion as the different nervous centres combine -and centralise, the characteristic functions of animality become more -perfect, and also, alas, more vulnerable. Those Coleoptera with centres -of motion so near that they touch or even gather into one mass, and so -are made part of each other, would be instantly paralysed by one sting; -or if several were needed, at all events the ganglia to be paralysed -are all collected under the point of the dart. - -Now which are the Coleoptera so specially easy to paralyse? That is the -question. The lofty science of a Claude Bernard, floating in the -fundamental generalities of organisation and life, is no longer enough -for us; it is unable to inform and guide us in this entomological -selection. I appeal to every physiologist under whose eye these lines -may fall. Without having recourse to his book-shelves, could he name -the Coleoptera where such a nervous centralisation is found, and even -with the help of his library, could he instantly lay his hand on the -information wanted? The truth is, we are entering on the minute details -of the specialist; the highway is quitted for a path known to few. - -I find the necessary documents in the fine work of M. E. Blanchard -(Annales des Sciences Naturelles, 3me série, tome v.) on the nervous -system of Coleoptera. There I find that this centralisation of nerve -power belongs especially to the Scarabæus, but most of these are too -large; the Cerceris could neither attack nor carry them away; besides, -many live in filth, where the cleanly Hymenopteron could not go to seek -them. Motive centres very close together are also found among the -Histers, which live on impurity, amid the smell of decay, and again -that will not do; also in the Scolytus, which is too small, and finally -in Buprestids and Weevils. - -What unexpected light amid the pristine obscurities of the problem! -Amid the immense number of the Coleoptera which the Cerceris seem able -to prey upon, two groups alone, Weevils and Buprestids, fulfil the -indispensable conditions. They live far from decay and dung, which -perhaps cause invincible repugnance in this dainty Cerceris; they are -of most varied size, proportioned to that of their different captors, -which may thus choose according to their convenience. They are far more -vulnerable than all the others at the one point where the sting of the -Hymenopteron can penetrate successfully, for at that point, all easily -accessible to the dart, crowd the motor centres of feet and wings. At -this point the three thoracic ganglia of Weevils lie very close, the -hind two are contiguous. At that same spot in the Buprestids the second -and third are welded in one large mass a little distance from the -first. And as it is precisely Buprestids and Weevils which are hunted, -to the absolute exclusion of all other game, by the eight species of -Cerceris, whose food stores of Coleoptera have been ascertained, a -certain internal likeness, namely, in centralisation of the nervous -system must be the explanation why there are heaped in the dens of -various Cerceris victims, outwardly so unlike. - -In this choice, upon which even transcendent knowledge could not -improve, such an assembly of difficulties is splendidly resolved, that -one asks if one be not the dupe of some involuntary illusion, and if -preconceived theories have not obscured the reality of facts, in short, -whether the pen has not described imaginary marvels. A scientific -result is only solidly established when confirmed by experiments -repeated in every possible way. Now let us submit to experimental proof -the physiological operation taught us by Cerceris tuberculata. If it be -possible to obtain artificially what the Hymenopteron obtained by her -sting, i.e. abolition of movement, and long preservation of the victim -in a state of perfect freshness; if it be possible to bring about this -wonder with the Coleoptera hunted by the Cerceris, or with those -possessing a like nervous centralisation, while one fails with those -whose ganglia are far apart, one must admit, however exacting one may -be in the matter of proof, that the Hymenopteron possesses in the -unconscious inspirations of instinct the resources of sublime science. -Let us see then what experiment shows. The manner of operation is very -simple. With a needle, or, better still, with the point of a fine steel -pen, we must introduce a tiny drop of some corrosive liquid into the -thoracic motive centres, pricking the insect slightly at the jointing -of the prothorax behind the first pair of feet. The liquid which I use -is ammonia, but it is evident that any other liquid whose action is -equally strong would produce the same results. The metal pen being -charged with ammonia as it might be with a droplet of ink, I give the -prick. The effects thus obtained differ enormously, according to -whether the experiment be made upon species with thoracic ganglia near -together or upon those where these same ganglia are far apart. With -regard to the first category, my experiments were made on Scarabæus, S. -sacer and S. longicollis; on a bronze Buprestis; and on weevils, -especially that Cleonus hunted by the heroine of these observations. In -the second category I have experimented on Caraboidea, Carabus, -Procrustes, Chlœnius, Sphodrus, Nebria; Longicornia, Saperda, and -Lamia; on Melasomes; Blaps, Scaurus, and Asida. - -Among the Scarabæus class, the Buprestids, and the Weevils, the effect -is instantaneous. Every movement stops suddenly, without any -convulsion, as soon as the fatal drop has touched the nerve centres. -The sting of the Cerceris does not produce prompter extinction. Nothing -can be more striking than this sudden immobility in a vigorous -Scarabæus sacer, but the likeness between the effects produced by the -dart of the Cerceris and the steel pen charged with ammonia does not -stop here. Scarabæids, Buprestids, and Weevils artificially stung, in -spite of their complete immobility, preserve for three weeks, one -month, or even two, the perfect flexibility of every joint and the -normal freshness of the interior organs. With them defecation takes -place on the first days as in the normal condition, and movement can be -excited by the Voltaic current. In a word, they behave exactly as do -Coleoptera sacrificed by the Cerceris. There is complete identity -between the state into which she plunges her victims and that produced -at will by injecting ammonia into the nerve centres of the thorax. Now, -as it is impossible to attribute the perfect preservation of the insect -during so long a time to the drop injected, one must altogether reject -the notion of an antiseptic fluid, and grant that in spite of utter -immobility the creature is not really dead. A spark of life exists, -keeping the organs for some time in normal freshness, but dying out by -degrees and leaving them at last subject to corruption. Moreover, the -ammonia in some cases produces extinction of movement in the feet only, -and then the deleterious action of the fluid having doubtless not -extended far enough, the antennæ preserve some mobility, and one sees -that the creature, even a month after inoculation, draws them back -quickly at the least touch—an evident proof that life has not -completely abandoned the inert body. This movement is not rare with -Weevils wounded by the Cerceris. - -Injection of ammonia always stops motion at once in Buprestids, -Weevils, and Scarabæus, but it is not always possible to put the -creature into the state just described. If the wound be too deep, or -the little drop instilled be too strong, at the end of two or three -days the victim really dies, and after two or three days there is but a -decaying body. If, on the contrary, the prick be too slight, it -recovers the power of motion, at least partially, after being inanimate -for more or less time. The Cerceris herself may operate clumsily, just -like man, for I have seen this kind of resurrection in a victim struck -by the dart of a Hymenopteron. Sphex flavipennis, whose history will -presently occupy us, heaps in her dens young crickets struck by her -venomed lancet. From one of her holes I have taken three poor crickets -whose extreme flabbiness would, in any other circumstances, have -denoted death. But here, again, death was only apparent. Placed in a -bottle, these crickets kept quite fresh but motionless for nearly three -weeks, after which two grew mouldy, while the third came partly to -life—that is to say, it regained motion of the antennæ, mouth-parts, -and, which is more remarkable, of the first two pairs of feet. If even -the skill of the Hymenopteron sometimes fails to benumb a victim for -good and all, can one expect constant success with the rough -experiments of man? - -In Coleoptera of the second category—those where the ganglia of the -thorax are distant one from another—the effect of ammonia is quite -different. Those which show themselves least vulnerable are the -Caraboidea. A puncture which would instantly have annihilated motion in -the large Scarabæus sacer, in the middle size Caraboidea only causes -violent, disordered convulsions. By degrees the creature quiets down, -and after some hours’ rest resumes its habitual movements as if nothing -had happened to it. If the experiment be repeated on it twice, thrice, -even four times, the results are the same, until the wound becomes too -serious, and it dies outright, as is proved by the drying up and -putrefaction which soon follow. - -The Melasomes and the Longicorns are more sensitive to the action of -ammonia. The injection of a small corrosive drop quickly renders them -motionless, and after some twitching they seem dead. But the paralysis -which would have persisted in Weevils, Scarabids, and Buprestids is but -momentary. Before long motion reappears as energetic as before. It is -only when the dose of ammonia is of a certain strength that movement -does not reappear. But then the creature is really dead, and -putrefaction rapidly comes on. It is then impossible to cause complete -and persistent paralysis in Coleoptera with ganglia far apart by the -means so efficacious in those with ganglia near together. At the utmost -one can only obtain momentary paralysis, which passes quickly away. The -demonstration is decisive. Cerceris which prey on Coleoptera conform in -their choice to what the most learned physiology and finest anatomy -alone can teach. It would be vain to endeavour to see nothing here but -chance agreement; it is not chance which explains such harmony. - - - - - - - - - -VI - -THE YELLOW-WINGED SPHEX - - -In their impenetrable coat of mail the Coleoptera offer but one -vulnerable point to their dart-bearing foe. This defect in the cuirass -is known to the assassin, and the poisoned sting is there inserted, -striking at one blow the three centres of motion, the Weevil and -Buprestid, which alone have a nervous organisation sufficiently -centralised, being selected. But what happens when the insect wears no -armour and is soft-skinned, so that the Hymenopteron can pierce it -anywhere that the chances of the struggle may direct? Is there then a -choice as to where the blow is given? Like the assassin who strikes at -the heart to shorten the dangerous struggles of his victim, does the -Sphex follow the tactics of the Cerceris, and strike by preference at -the motor ganglia? If so, what happens when these are distant from one -another, acting so independently that paralysis of one does not affect -the others? These questions will be answered by the history of an -insect which hunts field crickets, Sphex flavipennis. - -It is towards the end of July that this Sphex tears open the cocoon -which until then has protected it, and flies away from its subterranean -cradle. During the whole of August one constantly sees it seeking drops -of honey on the spiny heads of Eryngium campestre, the commonest of -such robust plants as brave the dog days. But this careless life is -brief, for in the earliest days of September the Sphex has begun the -hard existence of miner and hunter. It is usually on some small flat -spot on banks along a road that the dwelling is established, only there -must be two indispensable conditions—a sandy soil easy to work, and -sun. Beyond this no precaution is taken to shelter the domicile against -autumn rain and winter frost. A horizontal position, unsheltered, -beaten by rain and wind, suit the Sphex perfectly, so long as it is -exposed to the sun. But when the work is half-way through, if heavy -rain should come, it is sad to see next day galleries in course of -construction choked with sand and finally abandoned. - -Rarely does the Sphex work in solitude; it is in small bands of ten, -twenty, or more excavators that the claim selected is worked. One must -have spent some days watching one of these colonies in order to form -any idea of the restless activity, the feverish haste, the abrupt -movements, of these hard-working miners. They rapidly attack the ground -with the rakes of their forefeet, canis instar, as Linnæus says. A -puppy does not show more energy in scratching up the ground in play. At -the same time each labourer hums a joyous song—shrill, high-pitched, -interrupted at short intervals, and modulated by vibrations of wings -and thorax. One would think they were a troop of merry comrades, -stimulating one another to work by a cadenced rhythm. Meanwhile, the -sand flies, falling in fine dust on their quivering wings, and the -heavier gravel, pulled out bit by bit, rolls far away. If a bit resist -too much, the insect goes at it with a high note, reminding one of the -cry with which a woodcutter accompanies the stroke of his axe. Under -the redoubled efforts of tarsi and mandibles the cavity is already -sketched out, and the Sphex can already dart into it. Then comes a -lively interchange of forward movements to detach material, and of -backward to brush out fragments. In this hurried coming and going the -Sphex does not so much walk as dart forward, as though impelled by a -spring. With panting abdomen, antennæ vibrating, the whole body moved -by a strong thrill, she springs forward and is out of sight. You still -hear the unwearied hum underground, and one sees from time to time hind -legs pushing backward a wave of sand to the mouth of the burrow. From -time to time labour underground is interrupted either that the Sphex -may dust herself in the sunlight, and get rid of grains of dust which -insinuate themselves into delicate joints and hamper the liberty of her -movements, or that she make a reconnaissance in the neighbourhood. -Notwithstanding these short interruptions, in a few hours the gallery -is hollowed out and the Sphex appears on her threshold, to voice her -triumph, and give the last touch to her labours by effacing some -inequality, or carrying away some particles of earth, the objection to -which only the eye of a Sphex could perceive. - -Of the many tribes of Sphegidæ visited by me, there is one of which I -retain a specially lively recollection, on account of its singular -installation upon the edge of a high road, where were little heaps of -mud thrown up from side ditches by the cantonnier’s shovel. One, well -sun-dried, had a conical shape like a sugar-loaf over fifteen inches -high. The situation pleased the Sphegidæ, who had established a more -populous community than I have ever again met with. From base to summit -the cone of dried mud was pierced with burrows, giving it the -appearance of a huge sponge. In every story was feverish animation, and -a busy coming and going which brought to mind the scene in some great -workshop when orders are pressing. Crickets were being dragged by the -antennæ up the slopes of the conical city; there was storing of -provisions in the larders of the cells; dust was pouring from galleries -in process of construction; at intervals the grimy faces of the miners -appeared at mouths of passages—there was a constant going and coming. -Now and then, in a short interval of leisure, a Sphex ascended the top -of the cone, perhaps to take a general and well-satisfied view from -this belvedere. What a tempting sight!—one to make me long to carry -away the entire city with its inhabitants. It was useless to try; the -mass was too heavy. One cannot take up a village by the roots to plant -it elsewhere. - -Let us look at the Sphex at work in flat ground, as is much more -frequently the case. As soon as the burrow is hollowed out, the chase -begins. Let us profit by the absence of the Hymenopteron in search of -game, and take a look at her dwelling. The spot chosen by a Sphex -colony is generally horizontal, though the ground is not so level but -that there are little mounds crowned by a tuft of grass or thrift, or -inequalities consolidated by the slender roots of the vegetation which -covers them. It is on the sides of such furrows that the Sphex places -her den. For two or three inches in depth the gallery is horizontal, -serving as an approach to the hidden shelter for the provender and the -larvæ. In this vestibule the Sphex takes refuge in bad weather, rests -there at night, and occasionally by day for a few instants, showing -only her expressive face and impudent eyes. Beyond the vestibule an -abrupt turn descends more or less obliquely to a depth of two or three -inches more, ending in an oval cell rather larger in diameter, whose -axis lies parallel with the horizontal gallery. The cell walls are not -covered with any particular cement, but in spite of their bareness they -have evidently been the object of most careful labour. The sand is -heaped and levelled on the floor, on the ceiling, and sides, so as to -do away with the risk of landslips, or any roughness which might injure -the delicate skin of the larva. This cell communicates with the passage -by a narrow entrance, just wide enough to allow the Sphex, burdened -with prey, to enter. When this first cell is furnished with an egg and -necessary provisions, the Sphex walls up the entrance, but does not yet -abandon her burrow. A second cell is hollowed beside the first, and -provisioned in the same manner; there is then a third made, and -sometimes a fourth. Only then does the Sphex cast back into the burrow -the rubbish heaped at the entrance, completely effacing all outward -trace of her work. Three cells are usually found in each burrow, rarely -two, and yet more rarely four. As one learns by dissecting the insect, -one may estimate the number of eggs laid at about thirty, which would -make the number of burrows needed ten. Now these are hardly begun -before September, and are finished before the end of the month. -Consequently the Sphex cannot devote more than two or three days at -most to each burrow and its stores. Evidently the active little -creature has not a minute to lose, when in so short a time she has to -hollow out the lair, procure a dozen crickets, sometimes brought from a -distance through endless difficulties, to store them, and finally to -stop up the burrow. Moreover, there are days when wind makes hunting -impossible; rainy days or overcast ones suspending all work. The Sphex -cannot give to her building the enduring solidity that Cerceris -tuberculata gives to its deep galleries. This species transmit their -solid abodes from one generation to another, each year hollowed more -deeply, so that I was often bathed in perspiration when I tried to -reach them, and frequently my efforts and my implements proved useless. -The Sphex inherits nothing, and must herself do everything, and that -rapidly. Her dwelling is but a tent, hastily erected and moved on the -morrow. In compensation the larvæ, covered but by a thin layer of sand, -know how to supply the shelter which their mother has not given them; -they can clothe themselves with a double and triple waterproof -covering, far superior to the thin cocoon of the Cerceris. - -But here comes a Sphex with noisy hum, returning from the chase. She -pauses on a neighbouring bush, holding in her mandibles one of the -antennæ of a big cricket, weighing far more than herself. Tired out by -the weight, she rests a moment, then grasps her captive between her -feet, and with a supreme effort flies right across the ravine between -her and her abode. She alights heavily on the flat ground where I am -watching, in the very middle of a Sphex village. The rest of the -journey is made on foot, the Sphex, not in the least intimidated by my -presence, comes astride her victim, holding her head proudly aloft -while she drags along the cricket between her feet by one of its -antennæ held in her jaws. If the soil be bare there is no difficulty, -but should a network of grass spread its runners across the way, it is -curious to see the astonishment of the Sphex at finding her efforts -baffled by this little obstacle—curious to witness her marches and -countermarches and repeated attempts until the difficulty is surmounted -either by the aid of her wings or a well-planned détour. The cricket is -at last conveyed to its destination and placed so that its antennæ come -exactly to the mouth of the burrow. Then the Sphex abandons it and -descends in haste to the bottom of the cave. A few seconds later she -puts her head out with a little cry of joy. The antennæ of the cricket -are within reach; she seizes them and promptly conveys it down to her -den. - -I still ask myself in vain why these complicated manœuvres at the -moment of conveying the cricket into the burrow. Why, instead of going -down alone and returning to resume the prey left on the threshold, does -not the Sphex drag it into the gallery, as she did in the open air, -since the space is wide enough, or take it with her while she enters -backwards? The various predatory Hymenoptera which I have been able to -observe all drag their prey at once to the bottom of their cells, -holding it underneath them by their mandibles and intermediary feet. -Léon Dufour’s Cerceris does indeed somewhat complicate her movements, -since after putting down her Buprestis for a moment at the door of her -underground abode, she instantly goes backward into the gallery, seizes -her victim with her mandibles and drags it down; but that is very -unlike the tactics adopted in a like case by the Sphex. Why this -domiciliary visit, which invariably precedes the introduction of the -prey? May it not be that before descending hampered by a load, the -Sphex thinks it prudent to give a look round the bottom of her dwelling -to make sure that all is in order and to drive out, if necessary, some -impertinent parasite which may have slipped in during her absence? -Several Diptera, predatory flies, especially Tachinidæ, watch at the -doors of all the hunting Hymenoptera, spying out the favourable moment -to lay their eggs on other people’s game, but none penetrate into the -dwelling, nor venture into the dark passages, where, if by ill-luck the -owner caught them, they might have to pay dearly for their audacity. -The Sphex, like others, pays her tribute to the predatory Tachinidæ, -but they never enter her burrow to commit their misdeeds. Besides, have -they not all the time they need to lay their eggs on the cricket? If -they look sharp, they may very well profit by the Sphex’s momentary -absence from her victim to confide their posterity to it. What yet -greater danger menaces the Sphex which renders this preliminary descent -to the bottom of the burrow such an imperious necessity? - -The one observed fact which can throw any light on the problem is this. -Amid a colony of Sphegidæ in full activity, whence all other -Hymenoptera are habitually excluded, I one day surprised a sportsman of -a different kind, Tachytes nigra, carrying one by one, without any -haste and with the greatest composure, amid the crowd where he was but -an intruder, grains of sand, little bits of dry stalk, and other small -materials, to stop up a burrow of the same shape and size as the -neighbouring ones of the Sphegidæ. This labour was pursued too -conscientiously to admit of any doubt as to the presence of the -worker’s egg in the underground dwelling. A Sphex with anxious -movements, apparently the legitimate owner of the burrow, never failed -each time that the Tachytes entered the gallery to dart in pursuit, but -emerged swiftly, as if frightened, followed by the other, who continued -her task unmoved. I visited this burrow, the evident cause of strife -between them, and found a cell provisioned with four crickets. -Suspicion almost gave place to certainty, for this allowance far -exceeded the needs of a Tachytes’ larva, which is at least one-half -smaller than the Sphex. The calm insect whose care to stop up the -burrow at first suggested that it was the owner was really a usurper. -How comes it that the Sphex, larger and more robust than her adversary, -allows herself to be robbed with impunity, limiting herself to a -fruitless pursuit, and flying like a coward when the intruder, who -seems not even to perceive her, turns round to come out of the burrow? -Is it with insects as with men, the first quality needed for success is -audacity—audacity—audacity? Certainly the usurper had no lack of it. I -can still see that Tachytes, imperturbably calm, going and coming -before the meek Sphex, which stamped with impatience, but did not -venture to fall upon the thief. - -Let us add that in other circumstances I have repeatedly found this -Hymenopteron, I suppose to be a parasite—this Tachytes nigra, dragging -a cricket by one of its antennæ. Was it a prey lawfully acquired? I -would fain think so, but the indecision of the insect which strayed -about the ruts in the paths as if seeking a convenient burrow always -left me suspicious. I have never been present when it burrowed, if -indeed it ever does undertake that labour, and what is more, I have -seen it abandon its game to decay, perhaps not knowing what to do with -it for want of a hole where to put it. Such wastefulness seems to -indicate goods ill-gotten, and I ask myself if the cricket were not -stolen when the Sphex left it on her threshold? I also suspect Tachytes -obsoleta, banded with white round the abdomen like Sphex albisecta, -which nourishes its larvæ with crickets such as are hunted by the -latter. I have never seen it digging galleries, but I have caught it -dragging crickets that the Sphex would not have disdained. This -similarity of food in species of different genera makes me doubtful -whether the booty were lawfully come by. Let me add, however, to atone -in some measure for the injury which my suspicions may do to the -character of the genus, that I have seen the perfectly lawful capture -of a little cricket yet wingless by Tachytes tarsina, and have also -seen it hollow cells and store them with prey bravely acquired. Thus I -have only suspicions to offer as to why the Sphex persists in -descending to the bottom of her hole before carrying in prey. Is there -some other end besides that of dislodging a parasite which may have got -in during the owner’s absence? I despair of finding out; who can -interpret the thousand manœuvres of instinct? Poor human reason which -cannot even explain the wisdom of a Sphex! - -At all events, it is proved that these manœuvres are singularly -invariable, àpropos of which I will mention an experiment which greatly -interested me. At the moment when the Sphex makes her domiciliary -visit, I take the cricket and put it some way off. The Sphex comes up, -utters her usual cry, looks round with astonishment, and seeing the -game too far off, comes out to seize and put it in the right position. -Then she goes down again without the cricket. Same manœuvre on my part, -same disappointment when she reappears. Again the prey is brought to -the mouth of the hole, and again the Sphex goes down alone, and so on -as long as my patience holds out. Forty times on end have I tried the -experiment on the same individual; her persistence vanquished mine, and -her tactics never varied. - -Having proved the inflexible pertinacity of all the Sphegidæ in one -colony on whom I cared to experiment, I could not but perplex myself -over it. “Does then the insect obey a fixed tendency which -circumstances cannot modify?” I asked myself. “Are its actions all done -by rule, and is it unable to acquire the least experience from its own -proceedings?” Later observations modified this too absolute judgment. - -The following year, at the proper time, I visited the same spot. The -new generation had inherited for their burrows the place chosen by the -preceding ones; it had also faithfully inherited their tactics, for the -cricket experiment gave the same results. Such as were the Sphegidæ of -the past year such are those of the present one, equally persistent in -a fruitless attempt. My error grew confirmed until good luck brought me -to another colony in a different place. I renewed my experiments. After -two or three trials with the old, well-known result, the Sphex got -astride of the cricket, seized its antennæ with her mandibles, and -dragged it at once into the burrow. Who looked a fool then? The -experimenter baffled by the clever Hymenopteron. At the other holes her -neighbours, some sooner, some later, found me out, and went down with -their prey instead of persisting in leaving it on the threshold to -seize it later. What is the meaning of this? This colony, descended -from another stock, for sons return to the spot selected by their -forefathers, is cleverer than the one observed last year. Craft is -inherited; there are sharper-witted tribes and duller ones, apparently -according to the faculties of their forefathers. With Sphegidæ, as with -us, the kind of intellect changes with the province. Next day I tried -the cricket experiment in another locality, and it invariably -succeeded. I had come upon a dense-minded tribe, a true colony of -Bœotians, as in my earlier observations. - - - - - - - - - -VII - -THREE STROKES OF A DAGGER - - -There can be no doubt that the Sphex uses her greatest skill when -immolating a cricket; it is therefore very important to explain the -method by which the victim is sacrificed. Taught by my numerous -attempts to observe the war tactics of the Cerceris, I immediately used -on the Sphex the plan already successful with the former, i.e. taking -away the prey and replacing it by a living specimen. This exchange is -all the easier because, as we have seen, the Sphex leaves her victim -while she goes down her burrow, and the audacious tameness, which -actually allows her to take from your fingertips, or even off your -hand, the cricket stolen from her and now offered, conduces most -happily to a successful result of the experiment by allowing the -details of the drama to be closely observed. - -It is easy enough to find living crickets; one has only to lift the -first stone, and you find them, crouched and sheltering from the sun. -These are the young ones of the current year, with only rudimentary -wings, and which, not having the industry of the perfect insect, do not -yet know how to dig deep retreats where they would be beyond the -investigations of the Sphex. In a few moments I find as many crickets -as I could wish, and all my preparations are made. I ascend to the top -of my observatory, establish myself on the flat ground in the midst of -the Sphex colony and wait. - -A huntress comes, conveys her cricket to the mouth of her hole and goes -down alone. The cricket is speedily replaced by one of mine, but placed -at some distance from the hole. The Sphex returns, looks round, and -hurries to seize her too distant prey. I am all attention. Nothing on -earth would induce me to give up my part in the drama which I am about -to witness. The frightened cricket springs away. The Sphex follows -closely, reaches it, darts upon it. Then there is a struggle in the -dust when sometimes conqueror, sometimes conquered is uppermost or -undermost. Success, equal for a moment, finally crowns the aggressor. -In spite of vigorous kicks, in spite of bites from its pincer-like -jaws, the cricket is felled and stretched on its back. - -The murderess soon makes her arrangements. She places herself body to -body with her adversary, but in a reverse position, seizes one of the -bands at the end of the cricket’s abdomen and masters with her forefeet -the convulsive efforts of its great hind-thighs. At the same moment her -intermediate feet squeeze the panting sides of the vanquished cricket, -and her hind ones press like two levers on its face, causing the -articulation of the neck to gape open. The Sphex then curves her -abdomen vertically, so as to offer a convex surface impossible for the -mandibles of the cricket to seize, and one beholds, not without -emotion, the poisoned lancet plunge once into the victim’s neck, next -into the jointing of the two front segments of the thorax, and then -again towards the abdomen. In less time than it takes to tell, the -murder is committed, and the Sphex, after setting her disordered -toilette to rights, prepares to carry off her victim, its limbs still -quivering in the death-throes. Let us reflect a moment on the admirable -tactics of which I have given a faint sketch. The Cerceris attacks a -passive adversary, incapable of flight, whose sole chance of safety is -found in a solid cuirass whose weak points the murderers know. But here -what a difference! The prey is armed with redoubtable mandibles, -capable of disembowelling the aggressor if they can seize her, and a -pair of strong feet, actual clubs, furnished with a double row of sharp -spines, which can be used alternatively to enable the cricket to bound -far away from an enemy or to overturn one by brutal kicks. Accordingly, -note what precautions on the part of the Sphex before using her dart. -The victim, lying on its back, cannot escape by using its hind levers, -for want of anything to spring from, as of course it would were it -attacked in its normal position, as are the big Weevils by Cerceris -tuberculata. Its spiny legs, mastered by the forefeet of the Sphex, -cannot be used as offensive weapons, and its mandibles, held at a -distance by the hind-feet of the Hymenopteron, open threateningly but -can seize nothing. But it is not enough for the Sphex to render it -impossible for her victim to hurt her: she must hold it so firmly -garrotted that no movement can turn the sting from the points where the -drop of poison must be instilled, and probably it is in order to hinder -any motion of the abdomen that one of the end segments is grasped. If a -fertile imagination had had free play to invent a plan of attack it -could not have devised anything better, and it is questionable whether -the athletes of the classic palestra when grappling an adversary would -have assumed attitudes more scientifically calculated. - -I have just said that the dart is plunged several times into the -victim’s body, once under the neck, then behind the prothorax, lastly -near the top of the abdomen. It is in this triple blow that the -infallibility, the infused science of instinct, appear in all their -magnificence. First let us recall the chief conclusions to which the -preceding study of the Cerceris have led us. The victims of Hymenoptera -whose larva live on prey are not corpses, in spite of entire -immobility. There is merely total or partial paralysis, and more or -less annihilation of animal life, but vegetative life—that of the -nutritive organs—lasts a long while yet, and preserves from -decomposition the prey which the larvæ are not to devour for a -considerable time. To produce this paralysis the predatory Hymenoptera -use just those methods which the advanced science of our day might -suggest to the experimental physiologist—namely, wounding, by means of -a poisoned dart, those nervous centres which animate the organs of -locomotion. We know too that the various centres or ganglia of the -nervous chain in articulate animals act to a certain degree -independently, so that injury to one only causes, at all events -immediately, paralysis of the corresponding segment, and this in -proportion as the ganglia are more widely separated and distant from -each other. If, on the contrary, they are soldered together, injury to -the common centre causes paralysis of all the segments where its -ramifications spread. This is the case with Buprestids and Weevils, -which the Cerceris paralyses by a single sting, directed at the common -mass of the nerve centres in the thorax. But open a cricket, and what -do we find to animate the three pairs of feet? We find what the Sphex -knew long before the anatomist, three nerve centres far apart. Thence -the fine logic of the three stabs. Proud science! humble thyself. - -Crickets sacrificed by Sphex flavipennis are no more dead, in spite of -all appearances, than are Weevils struck by a Cerceris. The flexibility -of the integuments displays the slightest internal movement, and thus -makes useless the artificial means used by me to show some remains of -life in the Cleonus of Cerceris tuberculata. If one closely observes a -cricket stretched on its back a week or even a fortnight or more after -the murder, one sees the abdomen heave strongly at long intervals. Very -often one can notice a quiver of the palpi and marked movements in the -antennæ and the bands of the abdomen, which separate and then come -suddenly together. By putting such crickets into glass tubes I have -kept them perfectly fresh for six weeks. Consequently, the Sphex larvæ, -which live less than a fortnight before enclosing themselves in their -cocoons, are sure of fresh food as long as they care to feast. - -The chase is over; the three or four crickets needed to store a cell -are heaped methodically on their backs, their heads at the far end, -their feet toward the entrance. An egg is laid on each. Then the burrow -has to be closed. The sand from the excavation lying heaped before the -cell door is promptly swept out backward into the passage. From time to -time fair-sized bits of gravel are chosen singly, the Sphex scratching -in the fragments with her forefeet, and carrying them in her jaws to -consolidate the pulverised mass. If none suitable are at hand, she goes -to look for them in the neighbourhood, apparently choosing with such -scrupulous care as a mason would show in selecting the best stones for -a building. Vegetable remains and tiny bits of dead leaf are also -employed. In a moment every outward sign of the subterranean dwelling -is gone, and if one has not been careful to mark its position, it is -impossible for the most attentive eye to find it again. This done, a -new burrow is made, provisioned and walled up as soon as the Sphex has -eggs to house. Having finished laying, she returns to a careless and -vagabond life until the first cold weather ends her well-filled -existence. - -The Sphex’s task is accomplished. I will finish mine by an examination -of her weapon. The organ destined for the elaboration of her poison is -composed of two elegantly branched tubes communicating separately with -a common reservoir or pear-shaped vial, whence proceeds a slender -channel leading to the axis of the sting and conducting to its end the -little poisoned drop. The dart is extremely small, and not such as one -would expect from the size of the Sphex, especially from the effect -which her sting produces on crickets. The point is quite smooth, -without the barbs found in the sting of the hive bee. The reason of -this is evident. The bee uses her sting to avenge an injury only at the -cost of life, the barbs preventing its withdrawal from the wound, and -thus causing mortal ruptures in the viscera at the end of the abdomen. -What could the Sphex have done with a weapon which would have been -fatal the first time it was used? Even supposing that the barbed dart -could have been withdrawn, I doubt if any Hymenopteron using its -weapon, especially to wound game destined for its progeny, would be -provided with one. For here the dart is not a fine gentleman’s weapon, -unsheathed for vengeance, which is said to be the pleasure of the gods, -but a very costly one, since the vindictive bee sometimes pays for it -with life. It is a worker’s tool, on which depends the future of the -larvæ, thus it should be one easily used in a struggle with captured -prey, plunging into and coming out of the flesh without any delay—a -condition much better fulfilled by a smooth blade than by a barbed one. - -I wished to ascertain at my own expense if the Sphex’s sting be very -painful—that sting which knocks over robust victims with frightful -rapidity. Well, I own with great admiration that it is slight and -cannot be at all compared as to pain with those of the bee and the -irascible wasp. It hurts so little that, instead of using pincers, I -never hesitated to catch with my fingers any Sphegidæ which I wanted -for my researches. I may say the same of the various Cerceris, -Philanthides, Palares, and even of the huge Scoliides, whose very look -is terrifying, and in general of all predatory Hymenoptera which I have -been able to observe. I except, however, those that hunt spiders, the -Pompili, and even their sting is far less severe than that of a bee. - -One last remark. We know how furiously Hymenoptera armed with a sting -used only for defence rush at the bold man who disturbs their nest, and -punish his temerity. Those on the contrary whose sting is used only for -hunting are very pacific, as if they guessed how important for their -family is the little poison drop in their vase. That droplet is the -safeguard of their race—I might really say their means of subsistence; -therefore they use it economically, in the serious business of the -chase, with no parade of vengeful courage. I was not once punished by a -sting when I established myself amid colonies of our various predatory -Hymenoptera, whose nests I overturned, carrying off larvæ and -provisions. To induce the creature to use its weapon, one must lay hold -of it, and even then the skin is not always pierced, unless one puts -within reach a part more delicate than the fingers, such as the wrist. - - - - - - - - - -VIII - -LARVA AND NYMPH - - -The egg of Sphex flavipennis is white, elongated, and cylindrical, -slightly curved, and measuring three to four millimetres in length. -Instead of being laid fortuitously on any part of the victim, it is -invariably placed on one spot, across the cricket’s breast—a little on -one side, between the first and second pairs of feet. The eggs of the -white bordered, and of the Languedocian Sphex occupy a like -position—the first on the breast of a cricket, the second on that of an -ephippiger. This chosen spot must possess some highly important -peculiarity for the security of the young larva, as I have never known -it vary. - -Hatching takes place at the end of two or three days. A most delicate -covering splits, and one sees a feeble maggot, transparent as crystal, -somewhat attenuated and even compressed in front, slightly swelled out -behind, and adorned on either side by a narrow white band formed by the -chief trachea. The feeble creature occupies the same position as the -egg; its head is, as it were, engrafted on the same spot where the -front end of the egg was fixed, and the remainder of its body rests on -the victim without adhering to it. Its transparency allows us readily -to perceive rapid fluctuations within its body, undulations following -one another with mathematical regularity, and which, beginning in the -middle of the body, are impelled, some forward and some backward. These -are due to the digestive canal, which imbibes long draughts of the -juices drawn from the sides of the victim. - -Let us pause a moment before a spectacle so calculated to arrest -attention. The prey is laid on its back, motionless. In the cell of -Sphex flavipennis it is a cricket, or three or four, piled up; in that -of the Languedocian Sphex there is a single victim, but proportionately -large, a plump-bodied ephippiger. The grub is a lost grub if torn from -the spot whence it draws nourishment. Should it fall, all is over, for -weak as it is, and without means of locomotion, how would it again find -the spot where it should quench its thirst? The merest trifle would -enable the victim to get rid of the animalcule gnawing at its entrails, -yet the gigantic prey gives itself up without the least sign of -protestation. I am well aware that it is paralysed, and has lost the -use of its feet from the sting of its assassin, but at this early stage -it preserves more or less power of movement and sensation in parts -unaffected by the dart. The abdomen palpitates, the mandibles open and -shut, the abdominal styles and the antennæ oscillate. What would happen -if the grub fixed on one of the spots yet sensitive near the mandibles, -or even on the stomach, which, being tenderer and more succulent, would -naturally suggest itself as fittest for the first mouthfuls of the -feeble grub? Bitten on the quick parts, cicada, cricket, and ephippiger -would display at least some shuddering of the skin, which would detach -and throw off the minute larva, for which probably all would be over, -since it would risk falling into the formidable, pincer-like jaws. - -But there is a part of the body where no such peril is to be feared—the -thorax wounded by the sting. There and there only can the experimenter -on a recent victim dig down the point of a needle—nay, pierce through -and through without evoking any sign of pain. And there the egg is -invariably laid—there the young larva always attacks its prey. Gnawed -where pain is no longer felt, the cricket does not stir. Later, when -the wound has reached a sensitive spot, it will move of course as much -as it can; but then it is too late—its torpor will be too deep, and -besides, its enemy will have gained strength. That is why the egg is -always laid on the same spot, near the wounds caused by the sting on -the thorax, not in the middle, where the skin might be too thick for -the new-born grub, but on one side—toward the junction of the feet, -where the skin is much thinner. What a judicious choice! what reasoning -on the part of the mother when, underground, in complete darkness, she -perceives and utilises the one suitable spot for her egg! - -I have brought up Sphex larvæ by giving them successively crickets -taken from cells, and have thus been able, day by day, to follow the -rapid progress of my nurslings. The first cricket—that on which the egg -is laid—is attacked, as I have already said, toward the point where the -dart first struck—between the first and second pairs of legs. At the -end of a few days the young larva has hollowed a hole big enough for -half its body in the victim’s breast. One may then sometimes see the -cricket, bitten to the quick, vainly move its antennæ and abdominal -styles, open and close its empty jaws, and even move a foot, but the -larva is safe and searches its vitals with impunity. What an awful -nightmare for the paralysed cricket! This first ration is consumed in -six or seven days; nothing is left but the outer integument, whose -every portion remains in place. The larva, whose length is then twelve -millimetres, comes out of the body of the cricket through the hole it -had made in the thorax. During this operation it moults, and the skin -remains caught in the opening. It rests, and then begins on a second -ration. Being stronger it has nothing to fear from the feeble movements -of the cricket, whose daily increasing torpor has extinguished the last -shred of resistance, more than a week having passed since it was -wounded; so it is attacked with no precautions, and usually at the -stomach, where the juices are richest. Soon comes the turn of the third -cricket, then that of the fourth, which is consumed in ten hours. Of -these three victims there remains only the horny integument, whose -various portions are dismembered one by one and carefully emptied. If a -fifth ration be offered, the larva disdains or hardly touches it, not -from moderation, but from an imperious necessity. - -It should be observed that up to now the larva has ejected no -excrement, and that its intestine, in which four crickets have been -engulfed, is distended to bursting. Thus, a new ration cannot tempt its -gluttony, and henceforward it only thinks about making a silken -dwelling. Its repast has lasted from ten to twelve days without a -pause. Its length now measures from twenty-five to thirty millimetres, -and its greatest width from five to six. Its usual shape, somewhat -enlarged behind and narrowed in front, agrees with that general in -larvæ of Hymenoptera. It has fourteen segments, including the head, -which is very small, with weak mandibles seemingly incapable of the -part just played by them. Of these fourteen segments the intermediary -ones are provided with stigmata. Its livery is yellowish-white, with -countless chalky white dots. - -We saw that the larva began on the stomach of the second cricket, this -being the most juicy and fattest part. Like a child who first licks off -the jam on his bread, and then bites the slice with contemptuous tooth, -it goes straight to what is best, the abdominal intestines, leaving the -flesh, which must be extracted from its horny sheath, until it can be -digested deliberately. But when first hatched it is not thus dainty: it -must take the bread first and the jam later, and it has no choice but -to bite its first mouthful from the middle of the victim’s chest, -exactly where its mother placed the egg. It is rather tougher, but the -spot is a secure one, on account of the deep inertia into which three -stabs have thrown the thorax. Elsewhere, there would be, generally, if -not always, spasmodic convulsions which would detach the feeble thing -and expose it to terrible risks amid a heap of victims whose hind legs, -toothed like a saw, might occasionally kick, and whose jaws could still -grip. Thus it is motives of security, and not the habits of the grub, -which determine the mother where to place its egg. - -A suspicion suggests itself to me as to this. The first cricket, the -ration on which the egg is laid, exposes the grub to more risks than do -the others. First, the larva is still a weakly creature; next, the -victim was only recently stung, and therefore in the likeliest state -for displaying some remains of life. This first cricket has to be as -thoroughly paralysed as possible, and therefore it is stabbed three -times. But the others, whose torpor deepens as time passes,—the others -which the larvæ only attack when grown strong,—have they to be treated -as carefully? Might not a single stab, or two, suffice to bring on a -gradual paralysis while the grub devours its first allowance? The -poison is too precious to be squandered; it is powder and shot for the -Sphex, only to be used economically. At all events, if at one time I -have been able to see a victim stabbed thrice, at another I have only -seen two wounds given. It is true that the quivering point of the -Sphex’s abdomen seemed seeking a favourable spot for a third wound; but -if really given, it escaped my observation. I incline to believe that -the victim destined to be eaten first always is stabbed three times, -but that economy causes the others only to be struck twice. The study -of the caterpillar-hunting Ammophila will later confirm this suspicion. - -The last cricket being finished, the larva sets to work to spin a -cocoon. In less than forty-eight hours the work is completed, and -henceforward the skilful worker may yield within an impenetrable -shelter to the overpowering lethargy which is stealing over it—a state -of being which is neither sleeping nor waking, death nor life, whence -it will issue transfigured ten months later. Few cocoons are so complex -as is this one. Besides a coarse outer network, there are three -distinct layers, forming three cocoons, one within another. Let us -examine in detail these various courses of the silken edifice. First -comes an open network, coarse and cobwebby, on which the larva places -itself and hangs as in a hammock to work more easily at the cocoon -properly so called. This incomplete net, hastily spun to serve as a -scaffolding, is made with threads carelessly placed and holding grains -of sand, bits of earth, and remains from the larva’s banquet—cricket’s -thighs, still banded with red, feet, and skull. The next covering, -which is the first of the real cocoon, is a felted wrapper, light red, -very fine, very supple, and somewhat crumpled. A few threads cast here -and there connect it with the preceding scaffolding and the following -covering. It forms a cylindrical purse, with no opening and too large -for what it contains, thus causing the surface to wrinkle. Then comes -an elastic case, markedly smaller than the purse which contains it, -almost cylindrical, and rounded at the upper end, toward which is -turned the head of the larva, while at the lower it makes a blunt cone. -Its colour is light red, except towards the lower end, where the shade -is darker. It is fairly firm, though it yields to a moderate pressure, -except in the conical part, which resists and seems to contain a hard -substance. On opening this sheath it is seen to be formed of two layers -closely pressed together, but easily separable. The outer is a silken -felt precisely like that of the preceding purse, the inner one, the -third of the cocoon, is a kind of lacquer—a brilliant violet-brown -varnish, fragile, very soft to the touch, and of quite a different -nature to the rest of the cocoon. The microscope shows that instead of -being a felt of silky filaments like the other coverings, it is a -homogeneous covering of a peculiar varnish, whose origin is, as we -shall see, sufficiently strange. As for the resistance of the conical -end of the cocoon, one finds it caused by a load of friable matter, -dark violet, and shining with numerous black particles. This load is -the dry mass of excrement, ejected once for all by the larva, inside -its cocoon, and to it is due the darker colour of the conical end. The -average length of this complex dwelling is twenty-seven millimetres, -and its greatest width nine. - -Let us return to the purple varnish which covers the interior of the -cocoon. At first, I thought it should be attributed to the silk glands, -which, after serving to spin the double wrapper of silk and the -scaffolding, must finally have secreted it. To convince myself, I -opened larvæ which had just completed their task of weaving, and had -not yet begun to lay on the lacquer. At that period I found no trace of -violet fluid in their glands. It is only seen in the digestive canal, -which is swelled with a purple pulp, and later in the stercorous load -sent down to the lower end of the cocoon. Elsewhere all is white, or -faintly tinged with yellow. I am far from suggesting that the larva -plasters its cocoon with excrement, yet I am convinced that this wash -is produced by the digestive organs, and I suspect—though I cannot -positively assert it, having several times missed the moment to -ascertain it—that the larva disgorges and applies with its mouth the -quintessence of the purple pulp in its stomach to make the wash of -lacquer. Only after this last piece of work would it eject the remains -of digestion in a single mass, and thus is explained the disgusting -necessity of storing the excrement within the larva’s habitation. - -At all events the usefulness of this layer is clear; its absolute -impermeability protects the larva from the damp which would certainly -penetrate the poor shelter hollowed for it by its mother. Recollect -that it is buried but a few inches deep in sandy, open ground. To judge -how far cocoons thus varnished are capable of resisting damp, I have -plunged them in water for several days, yet never found any trace of -moisture within them. Let us compare the Sphex cocoon, with manifold -coverings to protect the larva in a burrow itself unprotected, with -that of Cerceris tuberculata, sheltered by a layer of sandstone, more -than half a yard down in the ground. This cocoon has the form of a very -long pear, with the small end cut off. It is composed of a single -silken wrap, so fine that the larva is seen through it. In my many -entomological researches I have always found the labour of larva and -mother supplement each other. In a deep well-sheltered dwelling the -cocoon is of light materials; for a surface abode, exposed to wind and -weather, it is strongly constructed. - -Nine months pass, during which a work is done which is quite hidden. I -pass over this period, occupied by the unknown mystery of -transformation, and to come to the nymph, go from the end of September -to the first days of the following July. The larva has thrown aside its -faded vestment, and the chrysalis, a transitory organisation, or -rather, a perfect insect in swaddling bands, awaits motionless the -awakening which is still a month off. Feet, antennæ, the visible -portions of the mouth, and the undeveloped wings, look like clearest -crystal, and are regularly spread out under the thorax and abdomen. The -rest of the body is of an opaque white, slightly tinged with yellow; -the four intermediary segments of the abdomen show on either side a -narrow, blunt prolongation; the last segment has above a blade-like -termination, shaped like the section of a circle, furnished below with -two conical protuberances, side by side, thus making in all eleven -appendages starring the contour of the abdomen. Such is the delicate -creature which, to become a Sphex, must assume a particoloured livery -of black and red, and throw off the fine skin which swaddles it so -closely. - -I have been curious to follow day by day the progress and coloration of -the chrysalid, and to experiment whether sunlight—that rich palette -whence Nature draws her colours—could influence their progress. With -this aim I have taken chrysalids out of their cocoon and kept them in -glass tubes, where some, in complete darkness, realised natural -conditions, while others, hung up against a white wall, were all day -long in a strong light. These diametrically opposed conditions did not -affect the colouring, or if there were some slight difference, it was -to the disadvantage of those exposed to light. Quite unlike to what -occurs with plants, light does not influence insect-colouring, nor even -quicken it. It must be so, since in the species most gifted with -splendid colour—Buprestids and Carabids for instance—the wonderful hues -that would seem stolen from a sunbeam are really elaborated in -darkness, deep in the ground, or in the decayed trunk of some aged -tree. - -The first indication of colour is in the eyes, whose horny facets pass -successively from white to tawny, then to a slaty hue, and lastly to -black. The simple ones at the top of the forehead share in their turn -in this coloration before the rest of the body has at all lost its -whitish tint. It should be noted that this precocity in the most -delicate of organs, the eye, is general in animals. Later a smoky line -appears in the furrow separating the mesothorax from the metathorax, -and four-and-twenty hours later the whole back of the mesothorax is -black. At the same time the division of the prothorax grows shaded, a -black dot appears in the central and upper part of the metathorax, and -the mandibles are covered with a rusty tint. Gradually a deeper and -deeper shade spreads over the last segments of the thorax, and finally -reaches the head and sides. One day suffices to turn the smoky tint of -the head and the furthest segments of the thorax into deep black. Then -the abdomen shares in the rapidly increasing coloration. The edge of -the anterior segments is tinted with daffodil, while the posterior -segments acquire a band of ashy black. Then the antennæ and feet take a -darker and darker tint, till they become black, all the base of the -abdomen turns orange-red, and the tip black. The livery would then be -complete, but that the tarsi and mouthpieces are transparent red and -the stumps of wings ashy black. Four-and-twenty hours later the -chrysalis will burst its bonds. It only takes six or seven days to -acquire its permanent tints; the eyes have done so a fortnight before -the rest of the body. From this sketch the law of chromatic evolution -is easily apprehended. We see that, omitting the eyes and ocelli, whose -early perfection recalls what takes place in the higher animals, the -starting-point of coloration is a central one, the mesothorax, whence -it invades progressively by centrifugal progression—first the rest of -the thorax, then the head and abdomen, and finally the various -appendages, antennæ, and feet. The tarsi and mouthpieces take colour -later still, and the wings only on coming out of their cases. - -Now we have the Sphex in full costume, but she still has to free -herself from the chrysalis case. This is a very fine wrap, enfolding -every smallest detail of structure, and hardly veiling the shape and -colours of the perfect insect. As prelude to the last act of -metamorphosis, the Sphex, rousing suddenly from her torpor, begins to -shake herself violently, as if to call life into her long-benumbed -limbs. The abdomen is alternately lengthened and contracted, the feet -are suddenly spread, then bent, then spread again, and their various -joints are stiffened with effort. The creature, curved backwards on its -head and the point of the abdomen, with ventral surface upward, -distends by vigorous shakes the jointing of its neck and of the petiole -attaching the abdomen to the thorax. At last its efforts are crowned -with success, and after half an hour of these rough gymnastics the -sheath, pulled in every direction, ruptures at the neck, at the -insertion of the feet and petiole, and, in short, wherever the body has -been movable enough to allow of sufficiently violent displacement. - -All these tears leave several irregular strips, the chief of which -envelops the abdomen and comes up the back of the thorax. To it belong -the wing sheaths. A second strip covers the head. Lastly, each foot has -its own sheath, more or less dilapidated toward the base. The biggest, -which forms the chief part of the whole covering, is got off by -alternate dilatations and contractions of the abdomen, which gradually -push it back into a little ball connected for some time with the animal -by tracheal filaments. Then the Sphex again becomes motionless, and the -operation is over, though head, antennæ, and feet are still more or -less covered. It is clear that the feet cannot be freed in one piece on -account of the roughnesses and thorns with which they are armed. These -rags of skin dry up and are got rid of later by rubbing the feet -together, and by brushing, smoothing, and combing the whole body with -the tarsi when the Sphex has acquired full vigour. - -The way in which the wings come out of their sheaths is the most -remarkable feature in this casting of the skin. In their undeveloped -state they are folded lengthways and much contracted. A little while -before they acquire their normal appearance one can easily draw them -out of their sheaths; but then they do not expand, remaining always -crumpled, while, when the large piece of which the sheaths are a part -is pushed back by the movements of the abdomen, they may be seen -issuing gradually from the sheaths, and immediately they gain freedom, -assuming dimensions out of all proportion to the narrow prison from -which they emerge. They are then the seat of an abundant influx of -vital juices which swell and spread them out, and the turgescence thus -induced must be the chief cause of their coming out of their sheaths. -When freshly expanded the wings are heavy, full of moisture, and of a -very light straw colour. If the influx should take place in an -irregular manner, the point of the wing is seen to be weighed down by a -yellow droplet contained between its under and upper surface. - -After denuding itself of the abdominal sheath, which draws away with it -the wing-cases, the Sphex again is motionless for about three days. -During this interval the wings assume their normal colouring, the tarsi -take colour also, and the mouth-parts, at first spread out, assume -their normal position. After twenty-four days as a nymph the insect -attains its perfect state, tears its imprisoning cocoon, opens a way -through the sand, and appears one fine morning in the light as yet -unknown to it. Bathed in sunshine, it brushes wings and antennæ, passes -its feet again and again over its abdomen, washes its eyes with its -forefeet moistened with saliva, like a cat, and, its toilette made, -flies joyfully away. Two months of life are before it. - -Beauteous Sphegidæ, hatched under my eyes and brought up by my hand, -ration by ration, on a bed of sand, at the bottom of an old feather -box,—you whose transformations I have followed step by step, waking up -with a start at night for fear of missing the moment when the nymph -breaks through her swaddling bands and the wings issue from their -cases. You have taught me so many things, learning nothing yourselves, -knowing without teachers all that you need to know. Oh, my beautiful -Sphegidæ! fly away without fear of my tubes, my phials, and all my -boxes and cages, and all my prisons for you; fly through the warm -sunshine, beloved by the cicadas! Go, and beware of the Praying Mantis, -who meditates your destruction on the purple thistles; beware of the -lizard watching for you on the sunny slopes. Depart in peace, hollow -out your burrows, stab your crickets scientifically, and continue your -race, so as to afford to others what you have afforded to me—some of -the few moments of happiness in my life. - - - - - - - - - -IX - -ADVANCED THEORIES - - -There are many species of Sphex, but for the most part strangers to our -country. As far as I know, the French fauna contains but three—all -lovers of the hot sun in the olive region—namely, Sphex flavipennis, S. -albisecta, and S. occitanica. It is not without keen interest that an -observer notices in all three of these predatory insects a choice of -provender in conformity with the strict laws of entomological -classification. To nourish their larvæ each confines itself to -Orthoptera. The first hunts grasshoppers, the second crickets, and the -third ephippigers. - -These prey are so different outwardly that to associate them and seize -their analogies, either the practised eye of the entomologist, or the -not less expert one of the Sphex is needed. Compare the grasshopper -with the cricket: the former has a round, stumpy head; it is short and -thickset, quite black, with red stripes on its hind thighs; the latter -is grayish and slim, with a small conical head, springing suddenly by -unbending its long hind legs, and carrying on this spring with fanlike -wings. Now compare both with the ephippiger, who carries his musical -instrument on his back, two harshly toned cymbals, shaped like hollow -scales, and who drags his obese body heavily along, ringed with pale -green and butter colour, and ending in a long dagger. Place these three -species side by side, and own with me that to be able to choose -creatures so unlike, and yet keep to the same entomological order, the -Sphex must have such an eye as not only a fairly observant person, but -a practised entomologist would not be ashamed of. - -In the presence of these singular predilections, which seem to have -limits laid down by some master of classification,—a Latreille for -instance—it becomes interesting to inquire if foreign Sphegidæ hunt -game of the same order. Unfortunately information as to this is scanty -or absolutely nil as regards most species. This regrettable lack is -chiefly caused by the superficial method generally adopted. An insect -is caught, transfixed with a long pin, fastened in a box with a cork -bottom; a ticket with a Latin name is put under its feet, and all is -said. This way of looking at entomological history does not satisfy me. -It is useless to tell me that such a species has so many joints in its -antennæ, so many nerves in its wings, so many hairs on a part of the -abdomen or thorax; I do not really know the creature until I have -learned its manner of life, its instincts and habits. And observe what -a luminous superiority has a description of the latter kind, given in -two or three words over long descriptions, sometimes so hard to -understand. Let us suppose that you want to introduce Sphex occitanica -to me; you describe the number and arrangement of the wing nerves, and -you speak of cubital and recurrent nerves; next follows the written -description of the insect. Here it is black, there rusty red, smoky -brown at the wing tips, at such a spot it is black velvet, at another -silvery down, and at a third smooth. It is all very precise, very -minute—one must grant that much justice to the clear-sighted patience -of him who describes; but it is very long, and besides, not always easy -to follow, to such a degree that one may be excused for being sometimes -a little bewildered, even when not altogether a novice. But add to the -tedious description just this—hunts ephippigers, and with these two -words light shines at once; there can be no mistake about my Sphex, -none other selecting that prey. And to illuminate the subject thus, -what was needed? Real observation, and not to let entomology consist in -rows of impaled insects. But let us pass on and consider such little as -is known as to the manner in which foreign Sphegidæ hunt. I open -Lepeletier de St. Fargeau’s History of Hymenoptera, and find that on -the other side of the Mediterranean, in our Algerian provinces, S. -flavipennis and S. albisecta have the same tastes that characterise -them here. In the land of palms they catch Orthoptera just as they do -in the land of olives. Although separated by the width of the sea, -these sporting fellow citizens of the Kabyle and the Berber hunt the -same game as their relatives in Provence. I see mentioned a fourth -species, S. afra, as hunting crickets round Oran. Moreover, I have a -recollection of having read—I know not where—of a fifth species, which -makes war on crickets upon the steppes in the neighbourhood of the -Caspian Sea. Thus in the lands bordering the Mediterranean we have five -different species whose larvæ all live on Orthoptera. - -Now let us cross the equator, and descend in the other hemisphere to -the Mauritius and Réunion Islands, and we shall find, not a Sphex but a -Hymenopteron, nearly allied, of the same tribe, Chlorion or Ampulex, -chasing the horrid kakerlacs, the curse of merchandise in ships and -colonial ports. These kakerlacs are none other than cockroaches, one -species of which haunts our houses. Who does not know this stinking -insect, which, thanks to its flat shape, like that of an enormous bug, -insinuates itself into gaps in furniture and partitions, and swarms -everywhere that there is food to devour. Such is the cockroach of our -houses—a disgusting likeness of the not less disgusting prey beloved by -the Chlorion. Why does a near relation of our Sphex select the kakerlac -as prey. The reason is simple: With its buglike form the kakerlac is an -Orthopteron by the same rights as the grasshopper, ephippiger, and -cricket. From these six examples, the only ones known to me, and from -such widely distant localities, may we not conclude that all Sphegidæ -hunt Orthoptera? Without adopting so sweeping a conclusion, one at -least sees what the usual food of their larvæ must be. - -There is a reason for this surprising choice. What is it? What motives -fix a diet which in the strict limits of one and the same entomological -order is now composed of ill-smelling kakerlacs, now of dry, but -well-flavoured crickets, and in yet another of plump grasshoppers, or -corpulent ephippigers? I confess that to me it is incomprehensible, and -I leave the problem to others. Observe, however, that the Orthoptera -rank among insects as the ruminants do among mammalia. Endowed with a -mighty paunch and a placid character, they feed on herbage, and easily -get corpulent. They are numerous and met with everywhere, slow of gait, -and thus easy to catch, and, moreover, of a size just right for prey. -Who can say if the Sphegidæ—vigorous hunters which require a large -prey—do not find in these ruminants among insects what we find in our -domestic ruminants—the sheep and ox, peaceful victims rich in flesh? -This is, however, a mere supposition. - -I have more than a supposition in another case, equally important. Do -the consumers of Orthoptera ever vary their diet? Should their -favourite game fail, can they do with another? Does S. occitanica think -that except a fat ephippiger, there is nothing in the wide world worth -eating. Does S. albisecta admit nothing but crickets to her table, and -S. flavipennis only grasshoppers? Or according to time, place, and -circumstance, does each replace the favourite food by some equivalent? -It would be of the highest importance to bring forward such facts if -they exist, as they would tell us whether the suggestions of instinct -are absolute and immutable, or if they vary, and within what limits. It -is true that in the cell of a Cerceris are buried most varied species -of Buprestids or of the Weevil group, which shows that she has a great -latitude of choice; but such an extension of hunting ground cannot be -supposed for the Sphex, which I have found so faithful to one exclusive -prey, invariable for each species, and which, moreover, finds among the -Orthoptera kinds of very different shapes. I have, however, had the -good fortune to meet with one case—only one—of complete change in the -larva’s food, and I mention it the more willingly in the archives of -the Sphegidæ because such facts, scrupulously observed, will one day be -corner-stones for him who may desire to build the psychology of -instinct on solid foundations. - -This is my fact. The scene is on a jetty by the Rhône. On one side is -the great river, with its thunder of waters, on the other, a dense -thicket of osiers, willows, and reeds, and between the two a narrow -path with a bed of fine sand. A yellow-winged Sphex appears, hopping -and dragging its prey along. What do I see! It is no grasshopper, but a -common Acridian! And yet the Hymenopteron really is the Sphex so well -known to me (S. flavipennis), the energetic huntress of grasshoppers! I -can hardly believe my eyes. The burrow is not far off; she enters and -stores her booty. I seat myself, determined to await a new -expedition—wait hours if need be to see if so extraordinary a capture -is repeated. Seated there I occupy the whole width of the path. Two -simple conscripts come up, new-clipped, with that incomparable, -automaton-look conferred by the first days of barrack life. They are -chattering together—no doubt talking of their homes and the girls they -left behind them; each is peeling a willow switch with a knife. A fear -seizes me; ah! it is not easy to try an experiment on the public way, -where, when some fact watched for during long years does present -itself, a passer-by may disturb or annihilate chances which may never -occur again! I rise anxiously to make way for the conscripts; I -withdraw into the osier bed, and leave the narrow way free. To do more -was not prudent; to say, “My good fellows, do not go that way,” would -have made bad worse. They would have supposed some snare hidden in the -sand, and questions would have arisen to which no reply that would -satisfy them could have been given. My request, moreover, would have -turned these idlers into lookers-on, very embarrassing company in such -studies, so I resolved to say nothing, and trust to my luck. Alas! -alas! my star betrayed me. The heavy regulation boot was planted -exactly on the Sphex’s roof. A shudder ran through me as though I had -myself received the impress of the iron heel. - -The conscripts gone I proceeded to the salvage of the contents of the -ruined burrow. There was the Sphex mutilated by the pressure, and there -were not only the cricket which I saw carried down, but two -others—three crickets in all instead of the usual grasshoppers. What -was the reason of this strange variation? Were there no grasshoppers -near the burrow, and did the distressed Hymenopteron do the best she -could with Acridians—contenting herself as it were with blackbirds for -want of thrushes, as the proverb says? I hesitate to believe it, for -there was nothing in the neighbourhood to denote absence of her -favourite game. Some happier means may unriddle this new problem. In -any case S. flavipennis, either from imperious necessity, or from -motives unknown to me, sometimes replaces her favourite prey, the -grasshopper, by another, the Acridian, altogether unlike outwardly to -the former, but still an Orthopteron. - -The observer on whose authority Lepeletier de St. Fargeau speaks of -this Sphex’s habits witnessed in Africa, near Oran, a similar storing -of Acridians. S. flavipennis was surprised by him dragging along an -Acridian. Was it an accidental case, like the one seen by me on the -banks of the Rhône? Was it the exception, or was it the rule? Were -grasshoppers wanting around Oran, and did the Hymenopteron replace them -by Acridians? Circumstances compel me to ask the question without -finding a reply. - -Here should be interpolated a certain passage from Lacordaire’s -Introduction to Entomology, [6] against which I long to raise my voice -in protest. Here it is: “Darwin, who has written a book on purpose to -prove the identity of the intellectual principle which produces action -in man and animals, walking one day in his garden noticed on the ground -in a shady walk a Sphex which had just caught a fly nearly as big as -itself. He saw it cut off with its mandibles the victim’s head and -abdomen, keeping only the thorax, to which the wings remained attached. -It then flew away, but a breath of wind striking the fly’s wings -twirled the Sphex round, and hindered its progress. Thereupon it lit -again on the walk, cut off first one wing and then the other from the -fly, and having thus removed the cause of its difficulties, flew off -with the remainder of its prey. This fact indicates manifest signs of -reasoning. Instinct might have induced the Sphex to cut off the wings -of its victim before transporting it to the nest, as do some species of -the same genus, but here were consecutive ideas and results of those -ideas quite inexplicable, unless one admits the intervention of -reason.” - -This little story, which so lightly bestows reason on an insect, is -wanting not only in truth but in mere probability—not in the act -itself, which I do not question at all, but in its motives. Darwin saw -what he relates, but he was mistaken as to the hero of the drama; as to -the drama itself, and as to its meaning—profoundly mistaken, and I can -prove it. - -First and foremost the old English savant ought to have known enough -about the creatures which he so freely ennobles to call things by their -right name. Let us therefore take the word Sphex in its strictly -scientific sense. Then by what strange aberration does this English -Sphex, if English ones there are, choose a fly as its prey when its -fellows hunt such different game—namely, Orthoptera? And even if we -grant, what I consider inadmissible, a Sphex catching flies, other -difficulties crowd in. It is now proved on evidence that the burrowing -Hymenoptera do not carry dead bodies to their larvæ, but merely prey -benumbed and paralysed. What, then, is the meaning of this prey whose -head, abdomen, and wings are cut off? The torso carried away is but a -portion of a corpse that would infect the cell and be useless to the -larva, not yet to be hatched for several days. It is perfectly clear -that Darwin’s insect was not a Sphex, strictly speaking. What, then, -did he see? The word fly, by which the captured prey is designated, is -a very vague term which might be applied to the greater part of the -immense order of Diptera, and therefore leaves us uncertain among -thousands of species. Probably the name of Sphex is used equally -vaguely. When Darwin’s book appeared, not only the real Sphegidæ were -so called, but also the Crabronides. Now among these last some provide -their larvæ with Diptera, the prey required for the unknown -Hymenopteron of the English naturalist. Was then Darwin’s Sphex a -Crabro? No, for these hunters of Diptera, like the hunters of any other -game, require prey which will keep fresh and motionless, but half alive -for the fortnight or three weeks needed before the eggs hatch, and for -the complete development of the larvæ. These little ogres require meat -not decayed, nor even high, but fresh. I know no exception to this -rule, and therefore the name Sphex cannot have been used in its old -meaning. - -Instead of dealing with a precise fact, really worthy of science, we -have an enigma to find out. Let us continue to examine it. Several of -the Crabronides are so like wasps in figure and form and shape and -their yellow and black livery, that they might deceive any eye -unpractised in the delicate distinctions of entomology. In the eyes of -every one who has not made a special study of the subject, a Crabro is -a wasp. Is it not possible that the English observer, regarding things -from a lofty height, and considering unworthy of close examination the -petty fact, which, however, was to serve to corroborate his -transcendent views and grant reason to animals, may have in his turn -committed an error, conversely and very excusably, by taking a wasp for -one of the Crabronides? I could almost declare it is so, and for the -following reasons. Wasps, if not always at any rate frequently, bring -up their family on animal food, but instead of provisioning each cell -they distribute nourishment singly to the larvæ, and several times in -the day; feeding them from their mouths with soft pap, as the father -and mother do young birds. This pap consists of mashed insects, ground -down in the jaws of the nursing wasp; the insects preferred for it are -Diptera, especially the common fly; if fresh meat offers itself it is -largely used. Who has not seen wasps penetrate into our kitchens, or -dart on the joints in a butcher’s shop, cut off some scrap of flesh -which suits them, and carry away a tiny spoil for the use of their -larvæ? When half-closed shutters allow a ray of light to fall on the -floor of a room where the house-fly is taking a comfortable nap, or -brushing its wings, who has not seen a wasp suddenly enter, pounce upon -it, crush it in its jaws, and flee with the booty? This again is a -dainty meal for the carnivorous nurslings. Sometimes the prey is at -once dismembered, sometimes on the way, sometimes at the nest. The -wings, in which there is no nourishment, are cut off and rejected; the -feet, poor in juices, are also sometimes disdained. There remains a -mutilated corpse, head, thorax, abdomen, or part thereof, which the -wasp chews repeatedly to reduce into a pap for the larvæ to feast on. I -have tried to bring up larvæ myself on fly-paste. The experiment was -tried on a nest of Polistes gallica, the wasp which fixes her little -rose-shaped nest of gray paper cells on the bough of some shrub. My -kitchen apparatus was a piece of marble slab, on which I crushed up the -fly-paste after cleaning my game—in other words, having taken away the -parts which were too tough—wings and feet; and the feeding-spoon was a -slender straw, at the end of which, going from cell to cell, I handed -the food to larvæ, which opened their mouths just like young birds in a -nest. I did just the same and succeeded just as well in the days when I -used to bring up broods of sparrows—that joy of childhood! All went on -as well as heart could wish as long as my patience held out against the -trials of a bringing up so absorbing and full of small cares. - -The obscurity of the enigma is replaced by the full light of truth, -thanks to the following observation, made with all the leisure that a -strict precision demands. In the first days of October two great clumps -of blossoming asters at the door of my study became the rendezvous of a -quantity of insects, among which the hive bee and Eristalis tenax were -the most numerous. A gentle murmur arose from them, like that of which -Virgil wrote, “Sæpe levi somnum suadebit inire susurro.” But if the -poet finds in it only an invitation to slumber, the naturalist finds a -subject for study; these small folk luxuriating on the last flowers of -the year may perhaps afford him some new information. So I am on the -watch before the two clumps with their countless lilac corollas. - -The air is perfectly still; the sun burns, the air is heavy—all signs -of a coming storm; but these are conditions eminently favourable to the -labours of the Hymenoptera, which seem to foresee to-morrow’s rain, and -redouble their activity in turning the present hour to profit. The bees -work ardently; the Eristalis fly clumsily from flower to flower. Now -and then, into the midst of the peaceable throng who are swilling -nectar, bursts a wasp, insect of rapine, attracted there by prey, not -honey. - -Equally ardent in carnage, but unequal in strength, two species divide -the chase; the common wasp, Vespa vulgaris, which catches Eristalis, -and the hornet, V. crabro, which hunts hive bees. Both carry on the -chase in the same way. They fly fast backwards and forwards over the -flowers, and suddenly throw themselves on the prey which is on its -guard and flies off, while their impulse carries them headfirst against -the deserted flower. Then the chase is continued in the air, just as a -sparrowhawk hunts a lark. But bee and Eristalis foil the wasp by their -sudden turns, and it goes back to fly above the blossoms. By and by -some insect less swift to escape gets captured. The common wasp -instantly drops on the turf with its Eristalis, and I drop down too at -the same moment, putting aside with both hands the dead leaves and bits -of grass which might hinder my seeing clearly, and this is the drama -which I behold, if proper precautions be taken not to scare the wasp. - -First there is a wild struggle among the blades of grass between the -wasp and an Eristalis bigger than itself. The Dipteron is unarmed but -strong, and a shrill hum tells of desperate resistance. The wasp -carries a poignard, but does not know how to use it methodically, and -is ignorant of the vulnerable points so well known to the hunters which -need flesh that must keep good for a considerable time. What its -nurslings want is a paste made of flies newly crushed, so that it -matters little how the game is killed. The sting is used -blindly—anywhere, pointed at the head, sides, thorax, or under part of -the victim, as chance directs while the two wrestle. The Hymenopteron, -paralysing its victim, acts like the surgeon, who directs his scalpel -with a skilled hand; the wasp when slaying acts like a common assassin -stabbing blindly in a struggle. Thus the resistance of the Eristalis is -long, and its death rather the result of being cut up by a pair of -scissors than of stabs with a dagger. These scissors are the wasp’s -mandibles, cutting, disembowelling, and dividing. When the game has -been garroted and is motionless between the feet of its captor, a bite -of the mandibles severs the head from the body; then the wings are -shorn off at the junction with the shoulder; the feet follow, cut off -one by one; then the abdomen is rejected, but emptied of its interior, -which the wasp appears to preserve with her favourite part, the thorax, -which is richer in muscle than the rest of the Eristalis. Without -further delay she flies off, carrying it between her feet. Having -reached the nest she will mash it up and distribute it to the larvæ. - -The hornet having seized a bee acts almost in the same way, but it is a -giant of a robber, and the fight cannot last long, despite the sting of -the victim. Upon the very flower where the capture was made, or oftener -on some twig of a neighbouring shrub, the hornet prepares its dish. -First of all the bag of the bee is torn open, and the honey lapped up. -The prize is thus twofold—that of a drop of honey, and the bee itself -for the larvæ to feast on. Sometimes the wings are detached, as well -as the abdomen, but generally the hornet is contented with making a -shapeless mass of the bee which is carried off whole. It is at the nest -that the parts valueless for food are rejected, especially the wings. -Or the paste may be prepared on the spot, the bee being crushed at once -between the hornet’s mandibles, after wings, feet, and sometimes the -abdomen are cut off. - -Here, then, in all its details is the fact observed by Darwin. A wasp, -Vespa vulgaris, seizes Eristalis tenax; with her mandibles she cuts off -head, wings, and abdomen of the victim, keeping only the thorax, with -which she flies away. But we need no breath of air to explain why they -were cut off; the scene takes place in perfect shelter, in the grass. -The captor rejects such parts as are useless for the larvæ, and that is -all. - -In short, a wasp is certainly the heroine of Darwin’s story. What, -then, becomes of that reasoning which made the creature, in order -better to contend with the wind, deprive its prey of abdomen, head, and -wings, leaving only a thorax? It becomes a very simple fact, whence -flow none of the great consequences that were drawn from it,—the very -trivial fact that a wasp began at once to cut up her prey, and only -considered the trunk worthy of her larvæ. Far from discovering the -least indication of reasoning, I see only an act of instinct so -elementary that it is really not worth consideration. - -To abase man and exalt animals in order to establish a point of -contact, then a point of fusion,—such has been the usual system of the -advanced theories now in fashion. Ah! how often do we not find in these -sublime theories that are a sickly craze of our day, proofs -peremptorily asserted, which under the light of experiment would appear -as absurd as the Sphex of the learned Erasmus Darwin! - - - - - - - - - -X - -THE SPHEX OF LANGUEDOC - - -When the chemist has ripely considered his plan of research, he mixes -his reactives at whatever moment suits him best, and sets his retorts -on the fire. He is master of time, place, and circumstance, chooses his -own hour, isolates himself in his laboratory, where he will be -undisturbed, and brings about such or such conditions as reflexion may -suggest. He is searching out the secrets of brute nature, whose -chemical activities science can arouse at will. - -The secrets of living nature—not those of anatomy, but those of life in -action, especially of instinct—offer conditions far more difficult and -delicate to the observer. Far from being able to take his own time, he -is the slave of season, day, or hour, even of the moment. If an -opportunity offer, it must be seized at once—it may be very long ere it -comes again. And as it usually comes just when one is thinking least -about it, nothing is ready whereby to turn it to account. One must -improvise there and then one’s little means of experiment, combine -one’s plan, devise one’s wiles, imagine one’s tactics, and feel only -too fortunate if inspiration come quickly enough to allow one to profit -by the chance offered. Moreover, such chances come only to one who -looks out for them, watches for days and days,—here on sandy slopes -exposed to the burning sun, there in the cauldron of some path enclosed -by high banks, or on some shelf of sandstone, the solidity of which is -not always such as to inspire confidence. If it be granted you to set -up your observatory under the scanty shade of an olive that you may -think will shelter you from a pitiless sun, then bless the fate which -is treating you like a sybarite; your lot is in Eden. Above all—keep a -sharp lookout. The spot is promising, and who knows? Any moment the -chance may come. - -It has come! tardily, it is true, but it has come. Ah! could one but -observe now, in the peace of one’s study, isolated, absorbed, thinking -only of what one is studying, far from the profane passer-by who will -stop, seeing you so preoccupied where he sees nothing, will overwhelm -you with questions and take you for a diviner of springs with the magic -hazel wand, or worse, as a doubtful character, seeking by incantations -old pots full of money hidden underground. Even if you seem to him to -have the look of a Christian, he will come near, look at what you are -looking at, and smile in a fashion which leaves no possible doubt as to -his humble opinion of people who spend their time in watching flies. -You would only be too happy if this annoying visitor would depart, -laughing in his sleeve, but without disturbing everything and repeating -the disaster caused by the soles of my two conscripts. - -Or if it is not the passer-by who is perplexed by your unaccountable -proceedings, it will be the garde-champêtre, that inexorable -representative of the law amid the fallow fields. Long has he had his -eye upon you. He has so often seen you wandering like a troubled ghost -for no reason that he can perceive; has so often caught you seeking -something in the ground, or knocking down some bit of wall in some -hollow way with infinite precaution that he begins to look on you as a -suspicious character, a vagabond, a gipsy, a tramp, or, at all events, -a maniac. If you have a botanical tin, to him it is the ferret-cage of -the poacher, and it will be impossible to convince him that you are not -destroying all the rabbits in the neighbouring warrens, regardless of -the laws of the chase and the rights of the owner. Beware! However -thirsty you may be, lay no finger on a cluster in the vineyard hard by; -the man of the municipal livery would be there, delighted to bear -witness and get at last an explanation of your exasperatingly -perplexing conduct. - -I must do myself the justice to say that I have never committed such a -misdeed, and yet one day when I was lying on the sand, absorbed in the -domestic affairs of a Bembex, I heard beside me, “In the name of the -law, I summon you to follow me!” It was the garde-champêtre of Les -Angles, who having vainly watched for an opportunity of catching me in -some offence, and being daily more desirous of an answer to the riddle -which tormented him, had finally decided on a summons. An explanation -became necessary. The poor man did not appear in the least convinced. -“Bah! bah!” said he, “you’ll never get me to believe that you come and -roast yourself in the sun just to watch flies. I keep my eye on you, -you know, and the first time.... Well, that’s enough.” He departed. I -have always believed that my red ribbon had a good deal to do with this -departure, and I ascribe to that ribbon other similar services during -my botanical or entomological rambles. It seemed to me—was it an -illusion?—it did seem to me that during my botanical expeditions on -Mont Ventoux, the guide was more manageable than usual and the donkey -less obstinate. - -The little dark red ribbon has not always protected me from the -tribulations the entomologist must expect when carrying on experiments -upon the highway. Since dawn I had been lying in ambush at the bottom -of a ravine; Sphex occitanica was the object of my early visit. A party -of three women vintagers passed on their way to work. A glance was cast -on the seated figure apparently lost in thought. “Good day” was -politely offered and politely answered. At sunset the women returned -with full baskets. The man was still there, seated on the same stone, -his eyes fixed on the same spot. My motionless figure, my persistent -stay in that lonely place, must have struck them greatly. As they -passed I saw one tap her forehead, and heard her whisper, “A poor -innocent, pe’caïre! a poor innocent!” and all three made the sign of -the cross. - -An innocent, an idiot, a poor inoffensive creature who is deficient; -and all three crossed themselves—an idiot being one to them marked by -God’s seal. “How?” said I. “What cruel mockery of fate! You who are -labouring to discover what is instinct and what reason in the animal; -you yourself are a half-wit in the eyes of these women! What -humiliation! However, pe’caïre, that term of supreme commiseration in -Provençal, uttered from the bottom of the heart, made me quickly forget -the Innocent.” - -It is to that same ravine that I invite my reader, if he is not -repelled by the small annoyances of which I have given him a foretaste. -S. occitanica haunts these parts, not in numbers giving one another -rendezvous when nidification is going on, but solitary individuals far -apart, wherever their vagabond peregrinations have led them. Just as -their relative S. flavipennis seeks the society of relations and the -animation of a work-yard and company, so, on the other hand, does the -Languedocian Sphex prefer calm, isolation, and solitude. Graver in -behaviour, more formal in manner, more elegant of figure, and in more -sombre attire, she always lives apart, careless of what others are -doing, disdaining companionship, a very misanthrope among Sphegidæ. S. -flavipennis is sociable; S. occitanica is unsociable—a profound -difference, alone sufficient to characterise them. - -This suggests how greatly the difficulty of observing the latter is -increased. No long meditated experiment is possible, nor can one -attempt to repeat it a second time if the first has failed. If you make -preparations beforehand,—for instance, if you put in reserve a piece of -game to substitute for that of the Sphex,—it is to be feared, indeed it -is almost certain, that she will not appear, or if she comes, your -preparations turn out useless. Everything must be improvised at -once—conditions which I have not always been able to realise as I could -have wished. - -Let us take courage; the position is good. Many a time I have here -surprised the Sphex reposing on a vine-leaf, exposed to the full rays -of the sun. The insect, lying flat and spread out, is voluptuously -enjoying the delights of warmth and light. From time to time a kind of -frenzy of pleasure bursts forth in her; she thrills with well-being, -drums rapidly on her resting-place with the points of her feet, and -produces a sound somewhat like the roll of a drum, or heavy rain -falling on foliage perpendicularly. You may hear this joyous drumming -several paces off. Then again comes perfect stillness, followed by a -fresh nervous commotion, and that waving of tarsi which is a sign of -supreme happiness. I have known some of these ardent sun-worshippers -suddenly leave a half-finished burrow to settle on a neighbouring vine -and take a bath of sun and light, returning reluctantly to give a -careless sweep to the hole, and finally abandon the workshop, unable -longer to resist the temptation of luxuriating on a vine leaf. Perhaps -this voluptuous resting-place is also an observatory whence to inspect -the neighbourhood, and espy and choose prey. This Sphex catches only -the ephippiger of the vine, scattered here and there on the leaves or -on any convenient bush. The game is succulent—all the more that only -females full of eggs are selected. - -Let us pass over numerous expeditions, fruitless researches, and the -tedium of long waiting, and present the Sphex to the reader just as she -shows herself to the observer. Here she is, at the bottom of a hollow -way with high sandy banks. She comes on foot, but aids herself with her -wings in dragging along her heavy captive. The ephippiger’s antennæ, -like long fine threads, are the harness ropes. With her mandibles and -holding her head high, she grasps one of them, passing it between her -feet, and the prey is dragged on its back. If some unevenness of ground -should oppose itself to this style of haulage, she stops, clasps the -ample provender, and transports it by very short flights, going on foot -between whiles whenever this is possible. One never sees her undertake -sustained flights for long distances carrying prey, as do those strong -cruisers, the Bembex and Cerceris, which will carry perhaps for a good -half mile through the air, the former their Diptera, the latter their -weevils—very light prey compared with the huge ephippiger. The -overwhelming size of its captive forces S. occitanica to convey it -along the ground—a means of transit both slow and difficult. The same -reason—namely, the great size and weight of the prey—entirely upsets -the usual order followed by the Hymenoptera, in their labours,—an order -well known, and consisting in first hollowing a burrow and then -victualling it. The prey not being disproportioned to the size of the -spoiler, facility of transport by flight allows the Hymenopteron a -choice as to the position of her domicile. What matter if she has to -hunt at considerable distances? Having made a capture, she returns home -with rapid flight; it is indifferent to her whether she is near or far. -Therefore she prefers the spot where she was born, and where her -predecessors have lived; there she inherits deep galleries, the -accumulated labour of former generations; with a little repair they can -be used as avenues to new chambers, better defended than would be a -single excavation a little below the surface made annually. Such is the -case with Cerceris tuberculata and Philanthus apivorus, and even if the -inherited dwelling should not be solid enough to resist wind and -weather from one year’s end to another, and to be handed down to the -next generation, at all events the Hymenopteron finds conditions of -greater safety in spots consecrated by ancestral experience. There she -hollows out galleries, each serving as corridors to a group of cells, -thus economising the labour to be expended on the entire egg-laying. - -In this way are formed, not true societies, there being no concerted -effort to a common end, but at least gatherings where the sight of -other Sphegidæ no doubt animates the labour of each. In fact, one can -notice between these small tribes, sprung from one and the same stock, -and the solitary miners, a difference in activity, recalling in one -case the emulation of a populous workshop, and in the other the dulness -of labourers in the tedium of isolation. For the animal as well as man -activity is contagious, and excited by its own example. Let us sum up. -Where there is a moderate weight for the spoiler, it is possible to -carry it on the wing for a great distance, and then the Hymenopteron -can arrange the burrows at pleasure, choosing by preference its -birthplace. From this preference of the birthplace results an -agglomeration—a coming together of insects of the same species, whence -arises emulation in their work. This first step towards social life is -the result of easy journeys. Is it not so with man? excuse the -comparison! Men, where ways are bad, build solitary cottages, while -where there are good roads, they collect in populous cities, served by -railroads, which, so to say, annihilate distance; they assemble in -immense human hives called London or Paris. - -The Languedocian Sphex has quite another lot. Its prey is a heavy -ephippiger—a single morsel representing the whole sum of provender -amassed by the other predatory insects bit by bit. What the Cerceris -and other strong-flying insects do by dividing their labour is -accomplished by a single effort. The weight of the prey rendering -flight impossible, it must be brought home with all the delays and -fatigue of dragging it along the ground. This one fact obliges her to -accommodate the position of her burrow to the chances of the chase: -first the prey and then the dwelling. Hence no rendezvous at a general -meeting-place; no living among neighbours, no tribes stimulating -themselves by mutual example—only isolation where chance has led the -Sphex—solitary labour, unenthusiastic, though always conscientious. -First of all prey is sought, attacked, and paralysed. Then comes making -the burrow. A favourable spot is chosen as near as possible to that -where lies the victim, so as to abridge the toil of transport, and the -cell of the future larva is rapidly hollowed to receive an egg and food -as soon as possible. Such is the very different method shown by all my -observations. I will mention the chief of them. - -If surprised in its mining, one always finds this Sphex alone—sometimes -at the bottom of some dusty niche a fallen stone has left in an old -wall—sometimes in a shelter formed by a projecting bit of sandstone, -such as is sought by the fierce-eyed lizard as a vestibule to its -retreat. The sun falls full upon it; the place is a furnace. The soil -is extremely easy to hollow, formed as it is by ancient dust which has -dropped little by little from the roof. The mandibles, which act as -pincers to dig with, and the tarsi, as rakes to clear away, soon hollow -the cavity. Then the Sphex flies off, but in a leisurely way, and -without any great expenditure of wing power, a manifest sign that the -expedition is not a long one. One’s eye can easily follow the insect -and discover where it alights, usually some ten yards off. Sometimes it -decides to go on foot. It sets out, hurrying to a spot where we will be -indiscreet enough to follow, our presence noways troubling it. Having -arrived on foot or on the wing it hunts about for a while, as one may -conclude from its indecision and short excursions on all sides. It -seeks and at last finds, or rather finds anew. The object found is an -ephippiger, half-paralysed, but still moving antennæ, tarsi, and -ovipositor—a victim which the Sphex certainly poignarded a little while -before with several stings, and then left her prey, an embarrassing -burden, while she still hesitated as to the choice of a domicile. -Perhaps she abandoned it on the very spot of the capture, leaving it -rather obvious on a grass tuft the better to find it later, and -trusting to her good memory to return where lies the booty, set to work -to explore the neighbourhood and find a suitable spot to burrow. This -done she came back for the game which was found without much -hesitation, and now she prepares to convey it home. She bestrides the -insect, seizes one or both antennæ and sets off, pulling and dragging -with all the strength of loins and jaws. - -Sometimes the journey is accomplished at one trial; more frequently she -leaves her load and hurries home. Perhaps it occurs to her that the -entrance door is not wide enough for this ample morsel, perhaps she -bethinks her of some defect of detail that might interfere with -provisioning the cell. Yes, she retouches her work, enlarges the -doorway, levels the threshold, consolidates the arch, all with a few -sweeps of the tarsi. Then she returns to the ephippiger, lying on its -back a few paces distant, and drags it on again. But a new idea seems -to flash across her lively mind. She had visited the gateway but had -not looked within; who knows if all be well there? She hastens back, -leaving the ephippiger midway. The interior is visited, and apparently -some touches as with a trowel are given by the tarsi, to lend a last -finish to the walls. Without lingering over these final touches the -Sphex returns to her prey, and harnesses herself to the antennæ. -Forward! Will the journey be accomplished this time? I would not answer -for it. I have known a Sphex, perhaps more suspicious than others, or -more forgetful of the minor details of architecture, set her omissions -right or allay her suspicions by abandoning her prey five or six times -successively, and hurrying to the burrow, which each time was touched -up a little or simply entered. It is true that others go straight home, -without even stopping to rest. I must add that when the Sphex comes -home to perfect her dwelling, she does not fail to give an occasional, -distant glance at the ephippiger left on the way, to make sure that -nothing touches it. This prudence recalls that of the Scarabæus sacer -issuing from the hole which it is digging to feel its dear ball, and -bring it a little nearer. - -The deduction to be drawn from the facts just stated is evident. Since -every Sphex occitanica we surprise while it burrows—be it at the very -beginning, at the first stroke of her tarsi in the dust, or later, the -dwelling being ready—makes a short expedition on foot or on the wing, -and always finds a victim already stabbed, already paralysed, one may -conclude with certainty that she first makes her capture, and later -burrows, so that the place of capture decides that of the domicile. - -This reversal of method which prepares the food before the larder, -while previously we saw the larder precede the food, I attribute to the -weight of the prey being too great to carry on the wing. It is not that -S. occitanica is ill-organised for flight; on the contrary, she can -soar splendidly, but her prey would overwhelm her if she depended only -on her wings. She needs the support of the ground and must drag her -prey, and displays wonderful vigour in doing this. Loaded with prey she -always goes on foot, or takes very short flights when these spare time -and toil. Let me quote an instance taken from my latest observations on -this curious Hymenopteron. - -A Sphex appeared suddenly, whence I know not, dragging an ephippiger -apparently just caught hard by. As things were she had to burrow, but -the position was as bad as possible—a highway, hard as stone. There was -no time for difficult mining, since the prey must be stored as soon as -possible; she needed light soil where the cell could be quickly made. I -have already described her favourite soil—dust deposed by years at the -bottom of some hole in a wall, or in some little hollow of a rock. The -Sphex which I was observing stopped at the foot of a country house with -a newly whitewashed façade, and measuring from six to eight metres in -height. Instinct told her that under the roof tiles she would find -hollows rich in ancient dust. Leaving her prey at the foot of the -façade, she flew on to the roof. For some time I saw her seek vainly -about. Then, having found a suitable position, she set to work under -the hollow of a tile. In ten minutes or a quarter of an hour at most -the domicile was ready; she flew down, promptly found the ephippiger, -and then had to carry up her prey. Would it be on the wing, as -circumstances suggest? Not at all; the Sphex adopted the difficult -method of escalading a vertical wall with a surface smoothed by the -mason’s trowel and from six to eight metres high. Seeing her take this -road, dragging her game between her feet, I thought at first that it -was impossible, but was soon reassured as to the outcome of this -audacious attempt. Supporting herself by the little roughnesses of the -mortar, the vigorous insect, in spite of the embarrassment of her heavy -load, made her way up this vertical plane with the same security, the -same speed, as on horizontal ground. The top is reached without any -hindrance, and the prey provisionally deposited at the edge of the roof -on the rounded bark of a tile. While the Sphex was retouching her -burrow the ill-balanced prey slipped and fell to the foot of the wall. -She must begin again, and again by means of an escalade. The same -imprudence is repeated; once more left on the curved tile the prey -slips and falls to the ground. With a calm which such accidents cannot -disturb, the Sphex for the third time hoists the ephippiger by climbing -the wall, and, better advised, drags it straight to the bottom of the -hole. - -If carrying the prey on the wing has not been attempted even in such -conditions as the above, it is clear that the Sphex is incapable of -flight with so heavy a load. To this impotence we owe the few details -of habits which are the subject of this chapter. A prey not too heavy -to be carried on the wing makes a semi-sociable species of S. -flavipennis—that is to say, one seeking the company of its fellows; a -heavy prey impossible to carry through the air renders S. occitanica a -species devoted to solitary labour—a kind of savage, disdainful of the -solace derived from neighbourhood of one’s fellows. The greater or -lesser weight of their prey decides the fundamental character. - - - - - - - - - -XI - -THE SCIENCE OF INSTINCT - - -I have no doubt that in order to paralyse her prey, Sphex occitanica -follows the method of the one that hunts grasshoppers, plunging her -sting repeatedly into the breast of the ephippiger in order to reach -the thoracic ganglia. She must be familiar with the operation of -injuring the nerve centres, and I am assured beforehand of her -consummate skill in the learned operation. It is an art familiar to all -the predatory Hymenoptera who bear a poisoned dagger, and it is not -given them for nothing. But I must own that I have never yet beheld the -deadly manœuvre, thanks to the solitary life of this Sphex. - -When a number of burrows are made and then provisioned on some common -ground, one has only to wait there to see now one insect return from -the chase, now another, with her prey, and it is easy to substitute a -live victim for the one sacrificed, renewing the experiment at will. -Besides, the certainty that the subjects for experiment will not fail -when wanted allows everything to be prepared beforehand, while with S. -occitanica these conditions of success do not exist. To set out and -look for her with one’s preparations made is all but useless, so -sparsely are these solitary insects scattered. Moreover, if you do meet -with one, it will probably be during her idle hour when nothing is to -be learned. I repeat that it is almost always unexpectedly, when you -are not thinking about it, that the Sphex appears with her ephippiger. -This is the moment—the one propitious moment—to attempt a substitution -of prey and to induce her to let you witness those dagger thrusts. Let -us hasten; time presses; in a few moments the burrow will have enclosed -the provender, and the grand chance will be lost. - -Need I speak of my mortification in these promising moments—a mocking -lure offered by fortune! Under my eyes is matter for curious -observations, and I cannot profit by it! I cannot steal the Sphex’s -secret, for I have no equivalent to offer for her prey. Just try, if -you like, to go about looking for an ephippiger when there are but a -few minutes to find it in! Why, it took me three days of wild search -before I could find weevils for my Cerceris! Yet twice did I make that -desperate attempt. Ah! if the garde-champêtre had caught me then -rushing about the vineyards, what a chance he would have had to believe -me guilty of theft, and of reporting me! Vines and grapes—nothing was -respected by my hurried steps, fettered by the vine garlands. I must -and would have an ephippiger, and have it then and there. And once I -did find one during one of these rapid expeditions. I beamed with joy, -little foreseeing the bitter disappointment awaiting me. - -If only I can come in time! if only the Sphex is still dragging her -victim! Thank heaven! all favours me. She is still at some distance -from her hole, and is bringing along her prey. With my pincers I gently -draw it back. She resists, clutches the antennæ and will not let go. I -pull harder, even making her go backwards; it is in vain, she holds on. -I had with me a pair of delicate little scissors, part of my -entomological outfit, and I rapidly cut the harness, otherwise the long -antennæ of the ephippiger. The Sphex still advanced, but soon paused, -surprised by the sudden lightening of her load, which now indeed only -consisted of the antennæ detached by my malicious artifice. The real -burden, the heavy-bodied insect, remained behind, instantly replaced by -my living one. The Sphex turned, let go the ropes, which now drew -nothing, and retraced her steps. Now she is face to face with the prey -substituted for her own. She examines it, walks round it with -suspicious caution, stops, wets her foot with saliva and washes her -eyes. While thus meditating does she say to herself something of this -kind: “Well, am I awake or am I asleep? Do I see clearly or not? This -thing is not mine. Of what or whom am I the dupe?” At all events she is -in no haste to bite my prey. She holds aloof, and shows not the -smallest wish to seize it. To excite her I offered the insect with the -tips of my fingers, putting the antennæ almost in her jaws, well aware -of her audacious tameness, and that she will take from your fingers -prey withdrawn and then offered. What is this? She draws back, -disdaining my offers and the prey put within her reach. I put down the -ephippiger, which, unconscious of danger, goes straight to its -assassin. Now for it. Alas! no; the Sphex continues to draw back, -behaves like a veritable coward, and finally takes wing. I never saw -her again. Thus ended to my confusion an experiment which had so -excited my enthusiasm. - -Later, and gradually, as I visited more burrows I came to understand my -want of success and the obstinate refusal of the Sphex. I always, -without exception, found stored a female ephippiger with an abundant -and succulent store of eggs inside her. This, it would seem, is the -favourite food of the larvæ. In my rush among the vines I had laid -hands on one of the other sex. It was a male which I offered to the -Sphex! More clear-sighted than I in the great victualling question, she -would have nothing to say to my game. “A male! Is that the kind of -dinner for my larvæ? And, pray, for whom do you take them?” How -sensitive must be these dainty eaters who appreciate the difference -between the tender flesh of the female and the comparatively dry body -of the male! What a penetrating glance which can distinguish instantly -the one sex from the other, though alike in form and colour! The female -has an ovipositor to bury her eggs with, and this is almost the only -outward difference between her and the male. This difference never -escapes the keen-sighted Sphex, and that is why my experiment made her -rub her eyes, immensely puzzled by a prey without an ovipositor, which -she was perfectly sure had one when it was caught. At such a -transformation what must have passed in her little Sphex brain? - -Now let us follow her when, the burrow being ready, she returns to find -her victim, deserted not far from the place of capture, and after the -operation which paralysed it. The ephippiger is in a state like that of -the cricket slain by S. flavipennis—a certain proof that stings have -been darted into the ganglia of the thorax. Nevertheless, many -movements continue, but disconnected, though endowed with a certain -vigour. Unable to stand, the insect lies on one side or on its back, -moving its long antennæ and palpi rapidly, opening and closing its -mandibles, and biting as hard as in its normal condition. The abdomen -pants fast and deeply; the ovipositor is suddenly brought under the -stomach, which it almost touches. The feet move, but languidly and -irregularly, the middle ones seemingly more benumbed than the others. -If touched with a needle, the whole body starts wildly; efforts are -made to rise and walk without success. In short, the creature would be -full of life but for the impossibility of locomotion and even of -getting on its feet. There is then a paralysis altogether -local—paralysis of the feet, or rather partial abolition and ataxy of -movement in them. Is this very incomplete inertia caused by some -special disposition of the victim’s nervous system, or is it that only -a single stab is given, instead of wounding each ganglion of the -thorax, as does the huntress of grasshoppers? I cannot say. - -However, for all its starts, its convulsions, its irregular movements, -the victim is none the less unable to harm the larvæ destined to -devour it. I have taken from the Sphex’s burrow ephippigers struggling -just as much as in the first moments of their semi-paralysis, and yet -the feeble grub, born but a few hours earlier, was biting the gigantic -victim with entire immunity. This striking result is caused by the -mother laying her egg in one particular spot. I have already told how -S. flavipennis glues her egg on the cricket’s breast, rather on one -side, between the first and second pairs of feet. S. albisecta chooses -the same place, and S. occitanica an analogous one, rather further back -toward the base of one of the large hind thighs, all three thus -evincing admirable knowledge as to where the egg will be safe. - -For consider the ephippiger shut in the burrow. It is on its back, -absolutely incapable of turning over. Vainly does it struggle; the -irregular movements of its feet are useless, the cell being too wide -for them to gain support from the walls. What do the victim’s -convulsions matter to the larva? It is on a spot where it cannot be -reached by tarsi, mandibles, ovipositor, or antennæ—a point absolutely -motionless, where there is not even a shudder of the skin. There is -entire security unless the ephippiger can move, turn, and get on its -feet, and that one condition is admirably guarded against. - -But with several, all in the same degree of paralysis, there would be -great risk for the larva. Though there would be nothing to fear from -the first insect attacked, as the larva is out of its reach, there -would be peril from the neighbourhood of the others, which in -stretching out their legs hither and thither might strike it and tear -it up with their spurs. Perhaps this is why S. flavipennis, which heaps -three or four grasshoppers in one cell, almost entirely paralyses them, -while S. occitanica, providing each burrow with a single victim, leaves -great power of motion to the ephippiger, simply preventing change of -place or rising to its feet, thus—though I cannot affirm it—economising -dagger thrusts. - -If the half-paralysed ephippiger be harmless for the larva established -on a point of its body where defence is impossible, things are -otherwise for the Sphex itself, which has to get it home. First, the -prey clutches bits of grass with its tarsi as it is dragged along, -being still able to use them pretty freely, causing considerable -difficulty in getting it onward. The Sphex, heavily weighted by her -load, is exposed to exhaustion by her efforts to make her prey let go -its desperate hold on grassy places. But that is the least of the -difficulties; it has full use of its mandibles, which snap and bite -with their old vigour. Just in front of these terrible pincers is the -slender body of the spoiler, as the latter draws the victim along. The -antennæ are grasped not far from their root, so that the ephippiger, -lying on its back, has its mouth now opposite the abdomen, and now the -thorax of the Sphex, who, standing high on her long legs, watches, I am -convinced, in order not to be seized by the mandibles gaping beneath. A -moment of forgetfulness, a slip, a mere nothing, might bring her within -reach of a pair of strong nippers which would not let slip the chance -of a pitiless vengeance. In certain specially difficult cases, if not -always, the movement of these redoubtable pincers must be stopped, and -the harpoon-like tarsi prevented from adding to the difficulties of -transport. - -What will the Sphex do to obtain this result? Man, and even a learned -man, would hesitate, bewilder himself with vain attempts, and perhaps -despair of success. Let him come and take a lesson from the Sphex, who, -without having learned, without ever seeing any one else at work, is -thoroughly up in her profession of operator. She knows that under her -victim’s skull lies a circlet of nerve-knots, somewhat analogous to the -brain of higher animals. She knows too that this chief nerve centre -directs the action of the mouth-parts, and, moreover, is the seat of -will, without whose command no muscle acts; finally, she is aware that -if this kind of brain be injured, all resistance will cease, the insect -no longer possessing will-power. As for the method of operation, it is -the easiest thing possible for her, and when we have studied at her -school we may try in our turn. The sting is no longer employed; in her -wisdom the Sphex decides compression to be preferable to the poisoned -sting. Let us bow to her decision, for we shall presently see how -prudent it is to be convinced of our ignorance compared with the -animal’s knowledge. Lest by re-writing my account I fail to do justice -to the sublime talent of this masterly operation, I transcribe my notes -written on the spot directly after witnessing the exciting spectacle. - -The Sphex, finding that her prey resists too much, hooking itself here -and there to blades of grass, pauses to perform the singular operation -about to be described—a kind of coup de grâce. The Hymenopteron, still -astride her victim, makes the articulation in the upper part of the -neck, at the nape, to open wide. Then she seizes the neck with her -mandibles, groping as far forward as possible under the skull, but -making no outward wound, grasps and chews repeatedly the nerve-centres -of the head. This renders her victim quite motionless, and incapable of -the least resistance, whereas previously the feet, though unable to -move in the manner necessary for walking, vigorously resisted being -dragged along. This is the fact in all its eloquence. While leaving -intact the thin, supple membrane of the neck, the insect finds a way -into the skull with the point of its mandibles, and bruises the brain. -There is neither effusion of blood nor wound, but merely external -compression. Of course I kept the paralysed ephippiger under inspection -in order to watch the consequences of the operation at my leisure, and -equally of course I hastened to repeat on living specimens what the -Sphex had taught me. I will now compare my results with hers. - -Two ephippigers, whose cervical ganglia I compressed with pincers, fell -quickly into a state like that of her victims, only they sounded their -harsh cymbals if irritated by the point of a needle, and their feet -made some irregular languid movements. The difference in the results -obtained doubtless arises from the fact that my victim had not been -previously stung in the thoracic ganglia, as those had been which the -Sphex had struck in the breast. Allowing for this important point, it -will be seen that I made no bad pupil, and imitated my teacher in -physiology, the Sphex, not ill. I own that it was not without a certain -satisfaction that I found I had done almost as well as the insect does. - -As well! What have I just said? Wait a little, and it will be seen that -I had to attend the Sphex’s school for many another day. For my two -ephippigers speedily died—died outright, and after three or four days I -had only decaying bodies under my eyes. But the ephippiger of the -Sphex? Need I say that ten days after the operation this was perfectly -fresh, as it has to be for the larva whose destined prey it is. Yet -more, a few hours after the operation under the skull, there reappeared -as if nothing had happened movements of an irregular kind in feet, -antennæ, palpi, ovipositor, and mandibles—in short, the creature was -again in the same state as before the Sphex bit its brain. And the -movements went on, only feebler each day. The Sphex had only benumbed -her victim for a period amply sufficient to enable her to get it home -without resistance, while I, who thought myself her rival, was but a -clumsy, barbarous butcher, and killed mine. She, with her inimitable -dexterity, compressed the brain scientifically to cause a lethargy of a -few hours; I, brutal through ignorance, perhaps crushed this delicate -organ, primal source of life, with my pincers. If anything could -prevent my blushing at my defeat, it would be that few if any could -rival the Sphex in skill. - -Ah! now I comprehend why she did not use her sting to injure the -ganglia of the neck. A drop of poison instilled here, at the centre of -vital force, would annihilate all nerve power, and death would soon -follow. But the Sphex does not at all desire death. Dead food by no -means suits the larvæ, and still less a body smelling of decay. All -that is needed is lethargy, a passing torpor, hindering resistance -while the victim is carted along—resistance difficult to overcome and -dangerous to the Sphex. This torpor is obtained by the proceeding known -in laboratories of experimental science as compression of the brain. -The Sphex acts like a Flourens who, baring an animal’s brain and -pressing on the cerebrum, abolishes at once sensibility, will, -intelligence, and motion. The pressure ceases and all reappears. So -reappear the remains of life in the ephippiger as the lethargic effects -of a skilful pressure go off. The ganglia of the skull, squeezed by the -mandibles, but without mortal contusions, gradually recover activity, -and put an end to the general torpor. It is alarmingly scientific! - -Fortune has her entomological caprices; you run after her and do not -come up with her; you forget her, and lo, here she is tapping at your -door! How many useless excursions, how many fruitless plans, you made -to try to see Sphex occitanica sacrifice her victim! Twenty years go -by; these pages are already in the printer’s hands, when, in the first -days of this month (August 8, 1878), my son Emile darts into my study. -“Quick! quick!” he cries, “a Sphex is dragging along her prey under the -plane trees, before the door of the court!” Emile, initiated into the -affair by what I had told him, and, better still, by like facts seen in -our out-of-door life, was quite right. I hurried away, and saw a -splendid S. occitanica dragging a paralysed ephippiger by the antennæ. -She moved toward the poultry yard, seemingly desirous of scaling the -wall, to make her burrow under some roof tile. Some years before I had -seen a similar Sphex accomplish the ascent with her game, and choose -her domicile under the arch of an ill-joined tile. Perhaps this new one -was descended from her whose difficult ascent I have chronicled. A like -feat is probably about to be repeated, and this time before numerous -witnesses, for all the household working under the shade of the plane -trees formed a circle round the Sphex. They wonder at the audacious -tameness of the insect, noways disturbed by the gallery of interested -spectators. All are struck by her proud and robust bearing, as, with -raised head and the victim’s antennæ well grasped by her mandibles, she -drags after her the enormous burden. I alone among the spectators feel -some regret. “Ah, had I but some live ephippigers!” I could not help -saying, without the least hope of seeing my wish realised. “Live -ephippigers!” replied Emile; “why, I have some quite fresh, caught this -morning.” Four steps at a time he flew upstairs to his little study, -where barricades of dictionaries enclosed a park wherein was brought up -a fine caterpillar of Sphinx euphorbiæ. He brought back three -ephippigers as good as heart could wish—two females and one male. How -came these insects at hand just at the right moment for an experiment -vainly tried twenty years before? This is another story. A southern -shrike had nested on one of the tall plane trees in the avenue. Some -days before the Mistral, the rude wind of our parts, had blown so -violently that branches bent as well as reeds, and the nest overturned -by the undulations of its branch let fall the four nestlings it -contained. The next day I found the brood on the ground—three killed by -the fall, the fourth still alive. The survivor was entrusted to Emile, -who thrice a day went cricket-hunting on the turf in the neighbourhood -to feed his charge. But crickets are not very large, while the -nestling’s appetite was. Something else was preferred—ephippigers, -collected from time to time on the dry stalks and prickly leaves of the -Eryngium. The three insects brought me by Emile came from the shrike’s -larder. My pity for the fallen nestlings had brought me this -unhoped-for good luck. - -Having made the circle of spectators draw back and leave free passage -for the Sphex, I took away her prey with my pincers, giving her -immediately in exchange one of my ephippigers with an ovipositor like -that of the one abstracted. Stamping was the only sign of impatience -shown by the bereaved Hymenopteron. She ran at the new prey, too -corpulent to try to avoid pursuit, seized it with her mandibles by the -saddle-shaped corslet, got astride, and curving her abdomen, passed its -end under the ephippiger’s thorax. There doubtless the stings are -given, but the difficulty of observation prevents me from telling how -many. The ephippiger—gentle victim—lets itself be operated on -unresistingly, like the dull sheep of our slaughter-houses. The Sphex -takes her time and manœuvres her lancet with a deliberation favourable -to the observer; but the prey touches the ground with the whole lower -part of its body, and what happens there cannot be seen. As for -interfering and lifting the ephippiger a little so as to see better, it -is not to be thought of; the murderess would sheath her weapon and -retire. The next act is easy to observe. After having stabbed the -thorax, the end of the abdomen appears under the neck, which she forces -widely open by pressing the nape. Here the sting enters with marked -persistence, as if more effective than elsewhere. One might suppose -that the nerve centre struck was the lower part of the œsophagean -collar, but the persistence of movement in the mouthpieces, mandibles, -jaws, and palpi, animated by this source of nerve power, shows that -this is not so. Through the neck the Sphex simply reaches the thoracic -ganglia, or at least the first, more easily attainable through the thin -skin of the neck than through the integuments of the chest. - -All is over. Without one convulsion or sign of pain the ephippiger is -rendered henceforward an inert mass. For the second time I deprived the -Sphex of the subject operated on, replacing it by the second female at -my disposal. The same manœuvres were followed by the same result. Three -times, almost without a pause, the Sphex repeated her skilled surgery, -first on her own capture, then on those exchanged by me. Will she do so -a fourth time on the male which I still have? It is doubtful, not that -she is weary, but because the game does not suit her. I have never seen -a Sphex with any but female prey, which, filled as they are with eggs, -are the favourite food of the larvæ. My suspicion was well founded. -Deprived of her third capture, she obstinately refused the male which I -offered her. She ran hither and thither with hurried steps, seeking her -lost prey. Three or four times she approached the ephippiger, walked -round it, cast a disdainful glance at it, and finally flew away. This -was not what her larvæ wanted. Experiment reiterated it after twenty -years’ interval. - -The three females, two stabbed under my eyes, remained mine. All the -feet were quite paralysed, Whether in its natural position or on its -back or side, the creature retains whichever is given it. Constant -oscillations of the antennæ, and, at intervals, some pulsations of the -stomach and movements of the mouthpieces, are the only sign of life. -Motion is destroyed but not feeling, for at the least prick where the -skin is thin, the whole body shudders faintly. Perhaps one day -physiology will discover in these victims a subject for fine studies on -the functions of the nervous system. The Hymenopteron’s sting, -incomparably skilful in reaching a given point and inflicting a wound -to affect it alone, will replace, with immense advantage, the brutal -scalpel of the experimenter, which disembowels where it should lightly -touch. Meanwhile, here are the results obtained from the three victims, -but from another point of view. - -Only movement of the feet being destroyed, there being no injury save -that to the nerve centres, the source of motion, the creature perishes, -not from its wound, but from inanition. The experiment was tried thus: - -Two uninjured ephippigers found in the fields were imprisoned without -food, one in the dark, the other in the light. In four days the latter -died of hunger, in five the former. This difference of a day is easily -explained. In the light the creature is more eager to recover liberty, -and as every movement of the animal machine causes a corresponding -expenditure of energy, greater activity used up sooner the reserves of -the organisation. With light, more agitation and shorter life; in -darkness, less movement and longer life; both insects fasted equally. -One of the three stabbed was kept in the dark and foodless. In this -case there was not only darkness and want of food, but the serious -wounds inflicted by the Sphex, and yet for seventeen days it -perpetually moved its antennæ. As long as this kind of pendulum -oscillates, the clock of life has not stopped. On the eighteenth day -the creature ceased to wave its antennæ and died. Thus the seriously -wounded insect lived in the same conditions as the uninjured one four -times as long. What seems as if it should be a cause of death is really -the cause of life. - -However paradoxical it may at first appear, this result is perfectly -simple. Intact, the creature agitates and spends itself; paralysed, it -makes only those feeble, internal movements, inseparable from all -organised life, and the waste of substance is in proportion to the -amount of action employed. In the first case the animal machine works -and spends itself; in the second it is at rest and saves itself up. -Nourishment no longer repairing loss, the insect in motion spends in -four days its food reserves and dies; the motionless one does not spend -them, and lives eighteen. Physiology tells us that life is continual -destruction, and the Sphex’s victims are a most elegant demonstration -of this fact. - -One more remark. Fresh food is absolutely necessary to larvæ of the -Hymenopteron. If the prey were stored intact, in four or five days it -would be a dead body, given up to decay, and the newly hatched grubs -would find no food but a corrupted mass. Touched by the sting it can -live two or three weeks—a period more than sufficient for the egg to -hatch and the grub to develop. The paralysis has thus a double -result—immobility, so as not to endanger the life of the delicate -larvæ, and long preservation of the flesh to assure wholesome -nourishment for them. Even when enlightened by science human logic -could find nothing better. - -My two other ephippigers, stung by the Sphex, were kept in darkness -with food. To feed inert creatures, differing only from dead bodies by -the perpetual oscillation of their long antennæ, seems at first an -impossibility; however, the play of the mouth organs gave me some hope, -and I made the attempt. My success surpassed my expectations. There was -no question, of course, of offering them a lettuce leaf or any other -green thing on which they might have browsed in their normal condition; -they were feeble invalids, to be nourished with a feeding-cup, so to -say, and broth. I used sugar and water. - -The insect being laid on its back, I put a drop of sugared liquid on -its mouth with a straw. Instantly the palpi stirred, mandibles and jaws -moved; the drop was consumed with evident satisfaction, especially if -the fast had been somewhat prolonged. I renewed the dose till it was -refused. The repast took place once or twice a day at irregular -intervals, as I could not devote myself very much to a hospital of this -kind. - -Well, with this meagre diet one of the ephippigers lived twenty-one -days. This was little longer than the life of the one which I allowed -to die of inanition. It is true that twice the insect had had a bad -fall, having dropped from the experiment table to the floor through -some awkwardness of mine. The bruises consequent may have hastened its -end. As for the other, exempt from accidents, it lived six weeks. As -the nourishment offered, sugar and water, could not indefinitely -replace the natural food, it is very probable that it would have lived -longer still had its customary diet been available. Thus the point -which I had in view is demonstrated: victims pierced by the sting of -the Hymenopteron die from inanition and not of their wound. - - - - - - - - - -XII - -THE IGNORANCE OF INSTINCT - - -The Sphex has just shown us with what infallible, transcendent art she -acts, guided by the unconscious inspiration of instinct: she will now -show how poor she is in resources, how limited in intelligence, and -even illogical in cases somewhat out of her usual line. By a strange -contradiction, characteristic of the instinctive faculties, with deep -science is associated ignorance not less deep. Nothing is impossible to -instinct, however great be the difficulty. In constructing her -hexagonal cells with their floor of three lozenge-shaped pieces, the -bee resolves, with absolute precision, the arduous problems of maximum -and minimum, to solve which man would need a powerful, mathematical -mind. Hymenoptera, whose larvæ live on prey, have methods in their -murderous art hardly equalled by those of a man versed in the most -delicate mysteries of anatomy and physiology. Nothing is difficult to -instinct so long as the action moves in the unchanging groove allotted -to the animal, but, again, nothing is easy to instinct if the action -deviates from it. The very insect which amazes us and alarms us by its -high intelligence will, a moment later, astonish us by its stupidity -before some fact extremely simple, but strange to its usual habits. The -Sphex will offer an example. - -Let us follow her dragging home an ephippiger. If fortune favour us, we -may be present at a little scene which I will describe. On entering the -shelter under a rock where the burrow is made, the Sphex finds, perched -on a blade of grass, a carnivorous insect which, under a most -sanctimonious aspect, hides the morals of a cannibal. The danger -threatened by this bandit in ambush on her path must be known to the -Sphex, for she leaves her game and runs bravely at the Mantis to -administer some sharp blows and dislodge, or at all events, alarm and -inspire it with respect. It does not move, but closes its deadly -weapons—the two terrible saws of the arm and forearm. The Sphex returns -to her prey, harnesses herself to the antennæ, and passes audaciously -under the blade of grass where the Mantis sits. From the direction of -her head one can see that she is on her guard, and is holding the enemy -motionless under her threatening eyes. Such courage is duly rewarded; -the prey is stored without further misadventure. - -A word more of the Praying Mantis, the Prégo Diéou as it is called in -Provence, i.e. the Pray-to-God. And, indeed, its long, pale green -wings, like ample veils, its head upraised to heaven, its arms folded -and crossed on its breast, give it a false resemblance to a nun in -ecstatic devotion. All the same, it is a ferocious creature, bent on -carnage. Although not especially favourite hunting-grounds, the -workshops of various burrowing Hymenoptera are often visited by it. -Posted on some bush near the burrows, it waits until chance brings some -Sphex returning home within reach, thus achieving a double capture, -catching together Sphex and prey. Its patience is long tried; the Sphex -is suspicious and on her guard, but from time to time a rash one lets -herself be caught. By a sudden rustle of half-spread wings, as by a -convulsive movement, the Mantis terrifies the approaching Sphex, which -hesitates for a moment, and then with the suddenness of a spring the -toothed forearm folds back on an arm also toothed, and the insect is -seized between the blades of the double saw, as though the jaws of a -wolf trap were closing on the beast as it takes the bait. Then, without -unclosing the cruel machine, the Mantis gnaws little mouthfuls of its -victim. Such are the ecstasies, the prayers, and the mystic meditations -of the Prégo Diéou. - -Among the scenes of carnage which the Mantis has left in my memory, let -me describe the following. It passes before a working-place of -Philanthus apivorus. These miners nourish their larvæ with hive-bees, -which they seize on flowers while collecting pollen and honey. If the -Philanthus feels that the bee is full of honey, it does not fail to -squeeze it before storing it, either on the way, or at the entrance of -the hole, to make it disgorge the delicious liquid; this it drinks by -licking the tongue of the unfortunate bee, which, dying, extends it at -full length. This profanation of a dying creature, squeezed by its -murderer to empty its body and enjoy the contents, has something so -hideous that I should call it a crime if a Philanthus could be held -responsible. In the midst of this horrible banquet I have seen both -murderer and prey seized by the Mantis; the robber was plundered by a -second robber. Horrible to relate, while the Mantis held it -transpierced by the points of the double saw, and was already gnawing -the under parts, the Philanthus went on licking the honey, unable to -abandon the delicious food even in the throes of death. Let us cast a -veil over these horrors. - -We return to the Sphex, with whose burrow we must make acquaintance -before going further. It is made of fine sand, or rather in the fine -dust at the bottom of a natural shelter. Its passage is very short—an -inch or two without a turn, leading into a single spacious oval -chamber, and all is a rude, hastily made den, rather than a dwelling -hollowed with art and leisure. I have already said that the captured -prey, left for a brief moment or two where it was hunted, is the cause -of the simplicity of this abode and of there being but one chamber or -cell to each hollow. For who can say whither the chances of the day’s -hunt may lead? The dwelling must be near the heavy prey, and to-day’s -abode, too far off to admit of carrying the second ephippiger there, -cannot be used to-morrow. Thus each time prey is caught there must be -new digging out—a new burrow with its one cell, now here, now there. -Now let us try some experiments to see how the insect behaves amid -circumstances new to it. - -First experiment.—A Sphex, dragging her prey, is at a few inches from -her burrow. Without disturbing her I cut the antennæ of the ephippiger, -which we already know serve as harness. Having recovered from her -astonishment at the sudden lightening of her load, the Sphex returns -and unhesitatingly seizes the base of the antennæ, the short stumps not -cut off. Very short they are—hardly a millimetre long; no matter, they -suffice for the Sphex, who grips what remains of her ropes and drags -anew. With many precautions not to hurt her, I cut off the two stumps, -now level with the skull. Finding nothing to seize at the parts -familiar to her, she takes hold on one side of one of the long palpi of -her victim, and drags it, not at all put out by this modification in -her style of harnessing herself. I leave her alone. The prey is got -home and placed with its head to the mouth of the burrow. The Sphex -enters to make a short inspection of the interior before proceeding to -store provisions. Her tactics recall those of S. flavipennis in like -circumstances. I profit by this brief moment to take the abandoned -prey, deprive it of all its palpi, and place it a little farther off—a -pace from the burrow. The Sphex reappears and goes straight to her -game, which she saw from her threshold. She seeks above the head, she -seeks below, on one side, and finds nothing to seize. A desperate -attempt is made; opening wide her mandibles she tries to grasp the -ephippiger by the head, but her pincers cannot surround anything so -large, and slip off the round, polished skull. She tries several times -in vain; at length, convinced of the futility of her efforts, draws -back, and seems to renounce further attempts. She appears -discouraged—at least she smooths her wings with her hind feet, while -with her front tarsi, first passing them through her mouth, she washes -her eyes, a sign among Hymenoptera, as I believe, that they give a -thing up. - -Yet there were points by which the ephippiger might be seized and -dragged as easily as by the antennæ and palpi. There are the six feet, -there is the ovipositor—all organs slender enough to be thoroughly -grasped and used as traction ropes. I own that the easiest way of -getting the prey into the storehouse is to introduce it head first by -the antennæ; yet, drawn by one foot, especially a front one, it would -enter almost as easily, for the orifice is wide and the passage short, -even if there be one. How came it then that the Sphex never once tried -to seize one of the six tarsi or the point of the ovipositor, while she -did make the impossible, absurd attempt to grip with mandibles far too -short the huge head of her prey? Perhaps the idea did not occur to her. -Let us try to suggest it. I place under her mandibles first a foot, -then the end of the abdominal sabre. She refuses obstinately to bite; -my repeated solicitations come to nothing. A very odd kind of hunter -this to be so embarrassed by her game and unable to think of seizing it -by a foot if it cannot be taken by the horns! Perhaps my presence and -all these unusual events may have troubled her faculties; let us leave -her to herself, with her burrow and ephippiger, and give her time to -consider and to imagine in the calm of solitude some means of managing -the business. I walked away and returned in a couple of hours to find -the Sphex gone, the burrow open, and the ephippiger where I had laid -it. The conclusion is that the Sphex tried nothing, but departed, -abandoning home, game—everything, when to utilise them all that was -needed would have been to take the prey by one foot. Thus this rival of -Flourens, who just now startled us by her science when pressing the -brain to induce lethargy, is invariably dull when the least unusual -event occurs. The Sphex, which knows so well how to reach the thoracic -ganglia of a victim with her sting, and those of the brain with her -mandibles, and which makes such a judicious difference between a -poisoned sting that would destroy the vital influence of the nerves, -and compression causing only momentary torpor, cannot seize her prey in -a new way. To understand that a foot may be taken instead of the -antennæ is impossible; nothing will do but the antennæ or another -filament of the head or one of the palpi. For want of these ropes her -whole race would perish, unable to surmount this trifling difficulty. - -Second experiment.—The Sphex is busy closing her burrow where the prey -is stored and the egg laid. With her fore tarsi she sweeps backward -before her door, and launches from the entrance a spurt of dust, which -passes beneath her, and springs up behind in a parabolic curve as -continuous as if it were a slender stream of some liquid, so rapidly -does she sweep. From time to time she chooses some sand grains with her -mandibles, strengthening materials inserted singly in the dusty mass. -To consolidate this she beats it with her head, and heaps it with her -mandibles. Walled up by this masonry, the entrance rapidly disappears. -In the midst of the work I intervene. Having put the Sphex aside I -clear out the short gallery carefully with the blade of a knife, take -away the materials which block it, and entirely restore the -communication of the cell with the outer air. Then, without injuring -the edifice, I draw the ephippiger out of the cell where it is lying -with its head to the far end, and its ovipositor to the entrance. The -egg is as usual on its breast, near the base of one of the hind legs—a -proof that the Sphex had given her last touch to the burrow, and would -never return. These dispositions made, and the ephippiger placed safely -in a box, I gave up my place to the Sphex, who had been watching while -her domicile was rifled. Finding the entrance open, she entered and -remained some moments, then came forth and took up her work where I -interrupted it, beginning to stop the entrance conscientiously, -sweeping the dust backward, and transporting sand grains to build them -with minute care, as if doing a useful work. The orifice being again -thoroughly blocked, she brushed herself, seemed to give a glance of -satisfaction at her work, and finally flew off. - -Yet she must have known that the burrow was empty, since she had gone -inside, and made prolonged stay, but yet after this visit to the -plundered dwelling, she set to work to close it with as much care as if -nothing had happened. Did she propose to turn it later to account, -returning with a fresh prey, and laying a new egg? In that case the -burrow was closed to defend it from indiscreet visitors while the Sphex -was away. Or it was a measure of prudence against other miners who -might covet a ready-made chamber, or a wise precaution against internal -wear and tear, and, in fact, some predatory Hymenoptera are careful -when obliged to suspend work to defend the mouth of their burrow by -closing it up temporarily. I have seen certain Ammophilæ, whose burrow -is a vertical well, close the entrance with a little flat stone when -the insect goes a-hunting, or stops mining when the hour to leave off -work comes at sunset. But in that case the stoppage is slight—a mere -slab set on the top of the well. It takes but a moment when the insect -comes to displace the little flat stone, and the door is open. But what -we have just seen the Sphex construct is a solid barrier—strong -masonry, where layers of alternate dust and gravel occupy the whole -passage. It is definitive, and no temporary work, as is sufficiently -shown by the careful way in which it is constructed. Besides, as I -think I have already proved, it is very doubtful, considering the -manner in which she acted, whether the Sphex would return to use the -dwelling which she had prepared. A new ephippiger will be caught -elsewhere, and elsewhere too will the storehouse destined for it be -hollowed. As, however, these are but conclusions drawn by reasoning, -let us consult experiment, more conclusive here than logic. I let -nearly a week pass in order to allow the Sphex to return to the burrow -so methodically closed, and use it if she liked for her nest-laying. -Events answered to the logical deduction; the burrow was just as I had -left it, well closed, but without food, egg, or larva. The -demonstration was decisive; the Sphex had not returned. - -Thus we see the plundered Sphex go into her house, pay a leisurely -visit to the empty chamber, and the next moment behave as if she had -not perceived the absence of the big prey which a little while before -had encumbered the cell. Did she not realise the absence of food and -egg? Was she really so dull—she, so clear-sighted when playing the -murderer—that the cell was empty? I dare not accuse her of such -stupidity. She did perceive it. But why then that other piece of -stupidity which made her close, and very conscientiously too, an empty -chamber which she did not mean to store? It was useless—downright -absurd—to do this, and yet she worked with as much zeal as if the -future of the larva depended on it. The various instinctive actions of -insects are then necessarily connected; since one thing has been done, -such another must inevitably follow to complete the first, or prepare -the way for the next, and the two acts are so necessarily linked that -the first must cause the second, even when by some chance this last has -become not only superfluous, but sometimes contrary to the creature’s -interest. What object could there be in stopping a burrow now useless, -since it no longer contained prey and egg, and which will remain -useless, since the Sphex will not return to it? One can only explain -this irrational proceeding by regarding it as the necessary consequence -of preceding actions. In the normal state of things the Sphex hunts her -prey, lays an egg, and closes the hole. The prey has been caught, the -egg laid, and now comes the closing of the burrow, and the insect -closes it without reflecting at all, or guessing the fruitlessness of -her labour. - -Third experiment.—To know all and nothing, according as the conditions -are normal or otherwise, is the strange antithesis presented by the -insect. Other examples drawn from the Sphegidæ will confirm us in this -proposition. Sphex albisecta attacks middle-sized Acridians, the -various species scattered in the neighbourhood of her burrow all -furnishing a tribute. From the abundance of these Acrididæ the chase is -carried on near at hand. When the vertical well-like burrow is ready, -the Sphex merely flies over the ground near, and espies an Acridian -feeding in the sunshine. To pounce and sting while it struggles is done -in a moment. After some fluttering of the wings, which unfold like -carmine or azure fans, some moving of feet up and down, the victim -becomes motionless. Next it must be got home by the Sphex on foot. She -performs this toilsome operation as do her kindred, dragging her game -between her feet, and holding one of the antennæ in her mandibles. If a -grass thicket has to be traversed, she hops and flutters from blade to -blade, keeping firm hold of her prey. When within a few feet of her -dwelling she executes the same manœuvre as does S. occitanica, but -without attaching the same importance to it, for sometimes she neglects -it. The game is left on the road, and though no apparent danger -threatens the dwelling, she hurries toward its mouth, and puts in her -head repeatedly, or even partly enters, then returns to the Acridian, -brings it nearer, and again leaves it to revisit her burrow, and so on -several times, always with eager haste. - -These repeated visits have sometimes annoying results. The victim, -rashly abandoned on a slope, rolls to the bottom, and when the Sphex -returns and does not find it where she left it, she must hunt for it, -sometimes in vain. If found, there will be a difficult climb, which, -however, does not prevent her leaving it once more on the perilous -slope. The first of these repeated visits to her cell is easily -explained. Before bringing her heavy load she is anxious to make sure -that the entrance is clear, and that nothing will hinder her carrying -in the prey. But what is the use of her other visits, repeated so -speedily one after another? Are the Sphex’s ideas so unstable that she -forgets the one just made, and hurries back a moment later, only to -forget that she has done so, and so on? It would indeed be a slippery -memory where impressions vanished as soon as made. Let us leave this -too obscure question. - -At length the game is brought to the edge of the well, its antennæ -hanging into the mouth, and there is an exact repetition of the method -used by S. flavipennis, and, though in less striking conditions, by S. -occitanica. She enters alone, reappears at the entrance, seizes the -antennæ, and drags in the Acridian. While she was within I have pushed -the prey rather farther off, and have always obtained precisely the -same result as in the case of the huntress of crickets. In both -Sphegidæ there was the same persistence in plunging into their burrows -before dragging down their prey. We must recollect that S. flavipennis -does not always allow herself to be duped by my trick of withdrawing -the insect. There are elect tribes among them,—strong-minded -families,—who after a while find out the tricks of the experimenter, -and know how to baffle them. But these revolutionaries capable of -progress are the few; the rest, rigid conservatives in manners and -customs, are the majority, the crowd. I cannot say whether the hunters -of Acrididæ show more or less cunning in different districts. - -But the most remarkable thing, and the one to which I want specially to -come, is this. After withdrawing the prey of S. albisecta several times -from the mouth of the hole, and obliging her to fetch it back, I -profited by her descent to the bottom of her den to seize and put the -prey where she could not find it. She came up, sought about for a long -time, and, when quite convinced that it was not to be found, went down -again. A few moments later she reappeared. Was it to return to the -chase? Not the least in the world; she began to close the hole, and -with no temporary cover, such as a small flat stone to mark the -orifice, but with a solid mass of carefully collected dust and gravel -swept into the passage until it was quite filled. S. albisecta only -makes a single cell at the bottom of her well, and puts in but one -victim. This one specimen had been caught and dragged to the edge of -the hole, and if it was not stored, that was my fault, not her’s. The -Sphex worked by an inflexible rule, and according to that rule she -completed the work by stopping up the hole even if empty. Here we have -an exact repetition of the useless labour of S. occitanica whose -dwelling I rifled. - -Fourth experiment.—It is almost impossible to be certain whether S. -flavipennis, which makes several calls at the bottom of the same -passage, and heaps several grasshoppers in each, commits the same -irrational mistakes when accidentally disturbed. A cell may be closed, -although empty or imperfectly stored, and yet the Sphex will return to -the same burrow to make others. Yet I have reason to believe that this -Sphex is subject to the same aberrations as her two relations. The -facts on which I base my belief are these. When the work is completed, -there are generally four grasshoppers in each cell, but it is not -uncommon to find three or only two. Four appears to me the usual -number—first, because it is the most frequent, and secondly, when I -have brought up young larvæ dug up when eating their first grasshopper, -I found that all, even those only provided with two or three, easily -finished those offered, up to four, but after that they hardly touched -the fifth ration. If four grasshoppers are required by the larva to -develop fully, why is it sometimes only provided with three or even -only two? Why this immense difference in the amount of food? It cannot -be from any difference in the joints served up, since all are -unmistakably of the same size, but must come from losing prey on the -road. In fact, one finds at the foot of the slopes whose upper parts -are occupied by Sphegidæ, grasshoppers killed, and then lost down the -incline, when, for some reason or other, the Sphex has momentarily left -them. These grasshoppers become the prey of ants and flies, and the -Sphex who finds them takes good care not to pick them up, as they would -take enemies into the burrow. - -These facts seem to demonstrate that if S. flavipennis can compute -exactly how many victims to catch, she cannot attain to counting how -many reach their destination, as if the creature had no other guide as -to number than an irresistible impulse leading her to seek game a fixed -number of times. When this number of journeys has been made,—when the -Sphex has done all that is possible to store the captured prey,—her -work is done, and the cell is closed, whether completely provisioned or -not. Nature has endowed her with only those faculties called for under -ordinary circumstances by the interests of the larva, and these blind -faculties, unmodified by experience, being sufficient for the -preservation of the race, the animal cannot go farther. - -I end then as I began: instinct knows everything in the unchanging -paths laid out for it; beyond them it is entirely ignorant. The sublime -inspirations of science, the astonishing inconsistencies of stupidity, -are both its portion, according as the creature acts under normal -conditions or under accidental ones. - - - - - - - - - -XIII - -AN ASCENT OF MONT VENTOUX - - -By its isolation, which leaves it freely exposed on every side to the -influence of atmospheric agencies, and from the height which makes it -the culminating point of France on this side of the frontiers of Alps -or Pyrenees, the bare Provençal mountain, Mont Ventoux, lends itself -remarkably to studies of plant species according to climate. At the -base flourish the tender olive and that crowd of small semi-woody -plants whose aromatic scent requires the sun of southern regions. On -the summit, where snow lies at least half the year, the ground is -covered with a northern flora, partly borrowed from the arctic regions. -Half a day’s journey in a vertical line brings before one’s eyes a -succession of the chief vegetable types met with in the same meridian -in long travels from south to north. When you start your feet crush the -perfumed thyme which forms a continuous carpet on the lower slopes; -some hours later they tread the dusky cushions of Saxifraga -oppositifolia, the first plant seen by a botanist who lands in July on -the shores of Spitzbergen. In the hedges below you had gathered the -scarlet blossoms of the pomegranate, which loves an African sky; up -above you find a hairy little poppy sheltering its stalks under a -covering of small stony fragments, and which opens its large yellow -corolla in the icy solitudes of Greenland and the North Cape, just as -it does on the highest slopes of Ventoux. - -Such contrasts have always a new charm, and twenty-five ascents have -not yet brought me satiety. In August 1865 I undertook the -twenty-third. We were eight persons—three who came to botanise, five -attracted by a mountain expedition and the panorama of the heights. -None of those who were not botanists have ever again desired to -accompany me. In truth, the expedition is a rough one, and a sunrise -does not atone for the fatigue endured. - -The best comparison for Mont Ventoux is that of a heap of stones broken -up to mend the roads. Raise this heap steeply up to two kilometres, and -give it a base in proportion, cast on the white of its limestone the -blackness of forests, and you get a clear idea of the general look of -the mountain. This heap of débris—sometimes little chips, sometimes -huge masses of rock—rises from the plain without preliminary slopes or -successive terraces to render ascent less trying by dividing it into -stages. The climb begins at once, by rocky paths, the best of which is -not as good as a road newly laid with stones, and rising ever rougher -and rougher to the summit, a height of 1912 metres. Fresh lawns, glad -rivulets, the ample shade of ancient trees—all that gives such a charm -to other mountains is here unknown, replaced by an endless bed of -calcareous rock broken into scales which yield under one’s feet with a -sharp, almost metallic sound. For cascades Mont Ventoux has streams of -stones, the sound of which, as they roll downward, replaces the murmur -of falling water. - -We have reached Bedoin, at the foot of the mountain, arrangements with -the guide are completed, the hour of departure is settled, provisions -chosen and prepared. Let us try to sleep, for the next night will be a -sleepless one on the mountain. But to fall asleep was the difficulty; I -have never achieved it, and this is the chief cause of fatigue. I would -therefore advise any readers who propose to botanise on Mont Ventoux -not to arrive at Bedoin on a Sunday night. They will thus avoid the -bustle of a country inn, endless conversations at the top of the -speakers’ voices, the echo of billiard balls, the clinking of glasses, -with the drinking-songs, the nocturnal couplets of passers-by, the -bellowing of wind instruments at the neighbouring ball, and the other -tribulations inseparable from this holy day of rest and enjoyment. -Could one sleep there on other nights? I hope so, but cannot answer for -it. I never closed an eye. All night long the rusty spit, labouring for -our benefit, groaned under my bedroom; only a thin plank separated me -from that diabolical machine. - -But already the sky was growing light; a donkey brayed under the -windows; the hour had come to rise, and we might as well not have gone -to bed at all. Provisions and baggage were loaded, our guide cried “Ja! -hi!” and we set off. At the head of the caravan walked Triboulet with -his mule and ass—Triboulet, the eldest and chief of the Ventoux guides. -My botanical colleagues scrutinised the vegetation on either side of -the road by the early light; the others talked. I followed the party, a -barometer slung over my shoulder, a note-book and pencil in my hand. - -My barometer, intended for ascertaining the height of the chief -botanical stations, soon became a pretext for attacks on the gourd of -rum. “Quick, the barometer!” some one would exclaim every time that a -remarkable plant was pointed out, and we would all press round the -gourd, the barometer coming later. The freshness of the morning and our -walk made us appreciate these references to the barometer so much that -the level of the tonic liquid lowered even faster than that of the -column of mercury. For the future it would be wise to consult -Torricelli’s tube less frequently. - -The temperature grew colder; olive and ilex disappear, next vine and -almond, then mulberry, walnut, and white oak; box grows plentiful. We -enter on a monotonous region, stretching from the limit of cultivation -to the lower edge of the beech woods, where the chief plant is Satureia -montana, known here as pébré d’asé,—asses’ pepper,—from the acrid smell -of its small leaves, impregnated with essential oil. Certain little -cheeses which form part of our provisions are powdered with this strong -spice, and more than one of us casts a famishing glance at the -provision bags carried by the mule. Our rough, early expedition had -brought an appetite, nay, better still, a devouring hunger, “latrantem -stomachum,” as Horace wrote. I showed my companions how to still this -hunger until we came to our next halt, pointing out a little sorrel -with arrow-shaped leaves, springing among the loose stones, and to set -an example I gathered a mouthful. There was a laugh at the notion. I -let them laugh, and soon saw one busier than another gathering the -precious sorrel. - -While chewing the acid leaves we came to the beeches, first large -solitary bushes, sweeping the ground, then dwarf trees, close together, -then strong trunks, forming a thick dark forest whose soil is a chaos -of limestone blocks. Overloaded in winter by snow, beaten all the year -round by fierce gusts of the Mistral, many are branchless, twisted into -strange shapes, or even prostrate. An hour or more was passed in -traversing the wooded zone, which, seen from a distance, looked like a -black girdle on the sides of the mountain. Now again the beeches became -stunted and scattered; we had reached their upper limit, and, despite -the sorrel, all were right glad to come to the spot chosen for our halt -and breakfast. - -We were at the fountain of La Grave, a slender thread of water caught, -as it issues from the ground, in a line of long troughs made of beech -trunks, where the mountain shepherds water their flocks. The -temperature of the spring was 7 degrees Cent.—a freshness inestimable -for us who came up from the sultry heat of the plain. The cloth was -spread over a charming carpet of Alpine plants, among which glittered -the thyme-leaved Paronychia, whose large thin bracts are like silver -scales. The provisions are taken out of their bags, the bottles out of -their bed of hay. On this side are the solid dishes, legs of mutton -stuffed with garlic, and piles of bread; there the insipid chickens, -good to amuse one’s grinders when serious hunger has been appeased. Not -far off, in a place of honour, are the Ventoux cheeses sprinkled with -asses’ pepper, and hard by Arles sausages, whose pink flesh is marbled -with squares of bacon and whole pepper. In this corner are green olives -still dripping with pickle, and black ones seasoned with oil. In -another are melons from Cavaillon, some white, some orange, to suit all -tastes, and there a pot of anchovies which make a man drink hard and be -tireless on the march, and finally the bottles, cooling in the icy -water of a trough. Is nothing forgotten? Yes, we have not mentioned the -crown of the feast, raw onions eaten with salt. Our two Parisians, for -there are two among us, my fellow botanists, are at first taken -somewhat aback by this decidedly bracing bill of fare. They will be the -first, a little later, to break forth in its praise. All is ready. Let -us to table! Then began one of those homeric meals which make an epoch -in one’s life. The first mouthfuls have a touch of frenzy. Slices of -leg of mutton and bread succeed one another with alarming rapidity. -Each of us, without communicating his apprehensions, casts an anxious -look on the provender, and says inwardly, “If we go on at this rate, -will there be enough for this evening and to-morrow?” However, the -craving abated: first we devoured silently, then we ate and talked; -fears for the next day abated too; we did justice to him who ordered -the bill of fare, and who, foreseeing our voracity, arranged to meet it -worthily. Now came the time to appreciate the provisions as -connoisseurs; one praises the olives, stabbing them singly with the -point of his knife; another lauds the anchovies as he cuts up the -little yellow-ochre fish on his bread; a third speaks enthusiastically -of the sausages; and one and all agree in praising the asses’-pepper -cheeses, no bigger than the palm of one’s hand. Pipes and cigars are -lighted, and we lie on our backs in the sun upon the grass. - -After an hour’s rest it is, “Up! time presses; we must go on!” The -guide and luggage were to go westward, along the wood, where there is a -mule path. He will wait for us at Jas or Bâtiment, at the upper limit -of the beeches, some 1550 metres above the sea. The Jas is a large -stone, but capable of sheltering man and beast at night. We were to go -upward to the crest which we should follow so as to reach the highest -part more easily. After sunset we would go down to the Jas, where the -guide would have long arrived; such was the plan proposed and adopted. - -We have reached the crest. Southward extend, as far as eye can see, the -comparatively easy slopes by which we ascended on the north. The scene -is savagely grand, the mountain sometimes perpendicular, sometimes -falling in frightfully steep terraces, little less than a precipice of -1500 metres. Throw a stone, and it never stops till, bound after bound, -it reaches the valley where one can see the bed of the Toulourenc wind -like a ribbon. While my companions moved masses of rock and sent them -rolling into the gulf that they might watch the terrible descent, I -discovered under a big stone an old acquaintance in the entomological -world—Ammophila hirsuta, which I had always found isolated on banks -along roads in the plain, while here, on the top of Mont Ventoux, were -several hundreds heaped under the same shelter. I was trying to find -the cause of this agglomeration, when the southern breeze, which had -already made us anxious in the course of the morning, suddenly brought -up a bevy of clouds melting into rain. Before we had noticed them a -thick rain-fog wrapped us round, and we could not see a couple of paces -before us. Most unluckily one of us, my excellent friend, Th. Delacour, -had wandered away looking for Euphorbia saxatilis, one of the botanical -curiosities of these heights. Making a speaking trumpet of our hands we -all shouted together. No one replied. Our voices were lost in the dense -fog and dull sound of the wind in the whirling mass of cloud. Well, -since the wanderer cannot hear us we must seek him. In the darkness of -the mist it was impossible to see one another two or three paces off, -and I alone of the seven knew the locality. In order to leave no one -behind, we took each other’s hands, I placing myself at the head of the -line. For some minutes we played a game of blindman’s buff, which led -to nothing. Doubtless, on seeing the clouds coming up, Delacour, well -used to Ventoux, had taken advantage of the last gleams of light to -hurry to the shelter of Jas. We also must hurry there, for already the -rain was running down inside our clothes as well as outside, and our -thin white trousers clung like a second skin. A grave difficulty met -us: our turnings and goings and comings while we searched had reduced -me to the condition of one whose eyes have been bandaged, and has then -been made to pirouette on his heels. I had lost the points of the -compass, and no longer knew in the very least which was the southern -side. I questioned one and another; opinions were divided and very -uncertain. The conclusion was that not one of us could say which was -the north and which the south. Never—no, never have I realised the -value of the points of the compass as at that moment. All around was -the unknown of gray cloudland; below we could just make out the -beginning of a slope here or there, but which was the right one? We -must make up our minds to descend, trusting to good fortune. If by ill -luck we took the northern slope we risked breaking our necks over those -precipices the very look of which had so inspired us with fear. Perhaps -not one of us would survive. I went through some moments of acute -perplexity. - -“Let us stay here,” said the majority, and wait till the rain stops. -“Bad advice,” said the others, and I was of the number; “bad advice. -The rain may last a long while, and drenched as we are, at the first -chill of night we shall freeze on the spot.” My worthy friend, Bernard -Verlot, come from the Jardin des Plantes at Paris on purpose to ascend -Mont Ventoux with me, showed an imperturbable calm, trusting to my -prudence to get out of the scrape. I drew him a little on one side so -as not to increase the panic of the others, and told him my terrible -apprehensions. We held a council of two, and tried to supply the place -of the magnetic needle by reasoning. “When the clouds came up,” said I, -“was it not from the south?” “Certainly from the south.” “And though -the wind was hardly perceptible, the rain slanted slightly from south -to north?” “Yes, I noticed that until I got bewildered. Is not that -something to guide us? Let us descend on the side whence the rain -comes.” “I had thought of that, but felt doubtful; the wind was too -light to have a clearly defined direction. It might be a revolving -current such as are produced on a mountain top surrounded by cloud. -Nothing assures me that the first direction has been continuous, and -that the current of air does not come from the north.” “And in that -case?” “Ah! there is the crux! I have an idea! If the wind has not -changed, we ought to be wettest on the left side, since the rain came -on that side till we lost our bearings. If it has changed we must be -pretty equally wet all round. We must feel and decide. Will that do?” -“It will.” “And if I am mistaken?” “You will not be mistaken.” - -In two words the matter was explained to our friends. Each felt -himself, not outside, which would not have been sufficient, but under -his innermost garment, and it was with unspeakable relief that I heard -one and all announce the left side much wetter than the right. The wind -had not changed. Very good, let us turn toward the rainy quarter. The -chain was formed again, Verlot as rearguard, to leave no straggler -behind. Before starting, I said once more to my friend, “Shall we risk -it?” “Risk it; I follow you,” and we plunged into the awful unknown. - -Twenty of those strides which one cannot moderate on a steep slope, and -all fear was over. Under our feet was not empty space but the -longed-for ground covered with stones which gave way and rolled down -behind us in streams. To one and all this rattle denoting terra firma -was heavenly music. In a few minutes we reached the upper fringe of -beeches. Here the gloom was yet deeper than on the mountain top; one -had to stoop to the ground to see where one was setting foot. How in -the midst of this darkness were we to find the Jas, buried in the depth -of the wood? Two plants which always follow man, Good King Henry -(Chenopodium Bonus Henricus) and the nettle, served me as a clue. I -swept my free hand through the air as I walked, and at each sting I -knew there was a nettle and an indication. Verlot, our rearguard, made -similar lunges, and supplied the want of sight by the burning stings. -Our companions showed no faith in this style of research. They talked -of continuing the wild descent and of returning if necessary to Bedoin. -More confident in the botanical instinct so keen in himself also, -Verlot joined with me in persisting in our search, reassuring the most -demoralised, and showing that it was possible by questioning plants -with our hands to reach our destination in the darkness. They yielded -to our reasoning, and shortly after, from one clump of nettles to -another, the party arrived at the Jas. - -Delacour was there, as well as the guide with the baggage, sheltered in -good time from the rain. A blazing fire and change of garments soon -restored our usual cheerfulness. A block of snow, brought from the -neighbouring valley, was hung in a bag before the hearth. A bottle -caught the melted water. This would be our fountain for the evening -meal. The night was spent on a bed of beech leaves, well crushed by our -predecessors, and they were many. Who knows for how many years the -mattress had never been renewed? Now it was a hard-beaten mass. The -mission of those who could not sleep was to keep up the fire. Hands -were not wanting to stir it, for the smoke, with no other exit than a -large hole made by the partial falling in of the roof, filled the hut -with an atmosphere made to smoke herrings. To get a mouthful of -breathable air one must seek it with one’s nose nearly level with the -ground. There was coughing; there was strong language, and stirring of -the fire; but vain was every attempt to sleep. By 2 a.m. we were all on -foot to climb the highest cone and behold the sunrise. The rain was -over, the sky splendid, auguring a radiant day. - -During the ascent some of us felt a kind of sea-sickness, caused partly -by fatigue and partly by the rarefaction of the air. The barometer sank -140 millimetres; the air we breathed had lost one-fifth of its density, -and was consequently one-fifth poorer in oxygen. By those in good -condition this slight modification would pass unnoticed, but, added to -the fatigue of the previous day and to want of sleep, it increased our -discomfort. We mounted slowly, our legs aching, our breathing -difficult. Every twenty steps or so one had to halt. At last the summit -was gained. We took refuge in the rustic chapel of St. Croix to take -breath and counteract the biting cold by a pull at the gourd, which -this time we emptied. Soon the sun rose. To the farthest limit of the -horizon Mont Ventoux projected its triangular shadow, tinted violet -from the effect of the diffracted rays. Southward and westward -stretched misty plains, where, when the sun rose higher, one would -distinguish the Rhône as a silver thread. On the north and east an -enormous cloud-bed spreads under our feet like a sea of cotton wool, -whence the dark tops of the lower mountains rise as if they were islets -of scoriæ, while others with their glaciers shine glorious on the side -where the Alps uplift their chain of mountains. - -But botany calls, and we must tear ourselves from this magic spectacle. -August, the month when we made our ascent, is somewhat late; many -plants were out of blossom. Those who really want to be successful -should come up here in the first fortnight of July, and, above all, -should forestall the arrival of the herds and flocks on these heights. -Where a sheep has browsed one finds but poor remains. As yet spared by -the grazing flocks, the stony screes on the top of Mont Ventoux are in -July literally a bed of flowers. Memory calls up the lovely dew-bathed -tufts of Androsace villosa, with white flowers and rosy centres; Viola -cenisia, opening great blue corollas on the shattered heaps of -limestone; Valeriana saliunca, with perfumed blossoms, but roots that -smell like dung; Globularia cordifolia, forming close carpets of a -crude green, starred with little blue heads; Alpine forget-me-not, blue -as the sky above it; the iberis of Candolle, whose slender stalk bears -a dense head of tiny white flowers and creeps down among the loose -stones; Saxifraga oppositifolia and S. muscoides, both making dark -thick little cushions, the former with purple blossoms, the latter with -white, washed with yellow. When the sun is hotter one sees a splendid -butterfly flutter from one blossomed tuft to another, its white wings -marked by four patches of vivid rose-carmine encircled with black. It -is Parnassius apollo, the graceful dweller in Alpine solitudes, near -the eternal snows. Its caterpillar lives on saxifrages. With the Apollo -let us end this sketch of the joys which await the naturalist on the -top of Mont Ventoux and return to the Ammophila hirsuta, crouching in -great numbers under a sheltering stone, when the rain came up and -surrounded us. - - - - - - - - - -XIV - -THE EMIGRANTS - - -I have already told how on the top of Mont Ventoux, some 6000 feet -above the sea, I had one of those pieces of entomological good luck, -which would be fruitful indeed did they but occur often enough to allow -of continuous study. Unhappily mine is a unique observation, and I -despair of repeating it. Future observers must replace my probabilities -by certainties. I can only found conjectures on it. - -Under the shelter of a large flat stone I discovered some hundreds of -Ammophila hirsuta, heaped in a mass almost as compact as a swarm of -bees. As soon as the stone was lifted all the small people began to -move about, but without any attempt to take wing. I moved whole -handfuls, but not one seemed inclined to leave the heap. Common -interests appeared to unite them indissolubly. Not one would go unless -all went. With all possible care I examined the flat stone which -sheltered them, as well as the soil and immediate neighbourhood, but -could discover no explanation of this strange assemblage. Finding -nothing better to do, I tried to count them, and then came the clouds -to end my observations and plunge us into that perplexing darkness I -have already described. At the first drops of rain I hastened to put -back the stone and replace the Ammophila people under shelter. I give -myself a good mark, as I hope the reader also will, for having taken -the precaution of not leaving the poor things, disturbed by my -curiosity, exposed to the downpour. - -Ammophila hirsuta is not rare in the plain, but is always found singly -on the edge of a road or on sandy slopes, now digging a well, now -dragging a heavy prey. It is solitary, like Sphex occitanica, and I was -greatly surprised by finding such a number gathered under one stone at -the top of Mont Ventoux. Instead of my solitary acquaintance, here was -a great assembly. Let us try to educe the probable causes of this -agglomeration. By an exception very rare among mining Hymenoptera, -Ammophila hirsuta builds in the first days of spring. Toward the end of -March, if the season be mild, or at least in the first fortnight of -April, when the grasshoppers take their adult form, and painfully cast -off their first skin on their thresholds,—when Narcissus poeticus -expands its first flowers, and the bunting utters its long-drawn note -from the top of the poplars in the meadow,—Ammophila hirsuta sets to -work to hollow and provision a home for her larvæ, whereas other -species and the predatory Hymenoptera in general undertake this labour -only in autumn, during September and October. This very early -nidification, preceding by six months the date adopted by the immense -majority, at once suggests certain considerations. One asks if those -found burrowing so early in April are really insects of that year—i.e. -whether these spring workers completed their metamorphosis and came out -of their cocoons during the preceding three months. The general rule is -that the Fossor becomes a perfect insect, leaves its burrow, and -occupies itself with its larvæ all in one season. It is in June and -July that the greater part of the hunting Hymenoptera come from the -galleries where they lived as larvæ, and in August, September, and -October they follow their occupations as burrowers and hunters. - -Does a similar law apply to Ammophila hirsuta? Does the same season -witness the final transformation and the labours of the insect? It is -very doubtful, for the Hymenoptera, occupied with mining at the end of -March, would have to complete their metamorphosis and break forth from -the cocoon in winter, or at latest in February. The severity of the -climate at that date forbids any such conclusion. It is not when the -bitter Mistral howls for a fortnight at a time and freezes the ground, -nor when snow-storms follow its icy breath, that the delicate -transformations of the nymph state can take place, and the perfect -insect venture to quit the shelter of its cocoon. It needs the soft -dampness of earth under a summer sun before it can leave its cell. - -If I did but know the exact date at which Ammophila hirsuta leaves the -cocoon it would greatly help me; but, to my deep regret, I do not. My -notes, gathered day by day, show the confusion inseparable from -researches that are generally dealing with points that cannot be -foreseen, and are silent on this point, whose importance I fully -realise now that I want to arrange my materials in order to write these -lines. I find mention of the Ammophila of the sands coming out of the -egg on June 5, and A. argentata on the 20th; but I have nothing in my -archives regarding the hatching of A. hirsuta. It is a detail left -unnoticed through forgetfulness. The dates for the two other species -accord with the general law, the perfect insect appearing at the hot -time of year. By analogy I fix the same date for the coming forth of A. -hirsuta from the cocoon. - -Whence, then, come those which one sees at work on their burrows at the -end of March and April? We must conclude that they were hatched in the -previous year and emerged from their cells at the usual time in June -and July, lived through the winter, and began to build as soon as -spring came. In a word, they are insects that hibernate. Experience -fully confirms this conclusion. - -Do but search patiently in a vertical bank of earth or sand well -exposed to the sun, especially where generations of the various -honey-gathering Hymenoptera have followed one another year after year, -riddling the ground with a labyrinth of passages till it looks like a -huge sponge, you are nearly sure to see in the heart of winter A. -hirsuta either alone or in little parties of three or four, crouched in -some warm retreat, waiting inactive till summer shall come. This -cheering little meeting, amid the gloom and cold of winter, with the -graceful insect which at the first notes of the bunting and the cricket -enlivens the grassy paths, is one that I have been able to enjoy at -will. If the weather be calm and the sun has a little power, the chilly -insect comes out to bask on its threshold, luxuriating in the hottest -beams, or it will venture timidly outside and walk slowly over the -spongy bank, brushing its wings. So, too, does the little gray lizard, -when the sun begins to warm the old wall which is its home. - -But vainly would one seek in winter, even in the most sheltered spots, -for a Cerceris, Sphex, Philanthus, Bembex, and other Hymenoptera with -carnivorous larvæ. All died after their autumn labours, and their race -is only represented by the larvæ benumbed down in their cells. Thus, by -a very rare exception, Ammophila hirsuta, hatched in the hot season, -passes the following winter in some warm refuge, and this is why it -appears so early in the year. - -With these data let us try to explain the Ammophila swarm on the crest -of Mont Ventoux. What could these numerous Hymenoptera under their -sheltering stone have been about? Were they meaning to take up winter -quarters there and await under their flat stone, benumbed, the season -propitious to their labours? Everything points to the improbability of -this. It is not in August, at the time of the greatest heat, that an -animal is overcome with winter sleep. Want of their food—the honey -juice sucked from flowers—cannot be suggested. September showers will -soon come, and vegetation, suspended for a while by the heat of the dog -days, will assume new vigour and cover the fields with a flowery carpet -almost as varied as that of spring. This period—one of enjoyment for -most of the Hymenoptera—cannot possibly be one of torpor for A. -hirsuta. Again, can one suppose that the heights of Ventoux, swept by -the gusty Mistral, uprooting beech and pine,—summits where the bise -whirls about the snow for six months of the year,—crests wrapped for -the greater part of the year by cold clouds and mist,—can be adopted as -a winter refuge by such a sun-loving insect? One might as well make it -hibernate among the ice fields of the North Cape! No, it is not there -that A. hirsuta must pass the cold season. The group observed there -were making a temporary halt. At the first indication of rain, which, -though it escaped us, could not escape the insect so eminently -sensitive to the variations of the atmosphere, the wayfarers had taken -refuge under a stone, and were waiting for the rain to pass before they -resumed their flight. Whence came they? Where were they going? - -In this same month of August, and especially in September, there come -to the warm olive region flocks of little migratory birds; descending -by stages from the lands where they have loved,—fresher, more wooded, -more peaceful lands than ours,—where they have brought up their broods. -They come almost to a day in an invariable order, as if guided by the -dates of an almanac known only to themselves. They sojourn for a while -in our plains, where abound the insects which are the chief food of -most of them; they visit every clod in our fields where the ploughshare -has turned up innumerable worms in the furrows, and feast on them, and -with this diet they speedily lay on fat,—a storehouse and reserve to -serve as nutrition against toils to come, and thus well provided for -the journey they go on southward, to reach winterless lands where -insects are always to be found, such as Spain and Southern Italy, the -isles of the Mediterranean and Africa. This is the season for the -pleasure of shooting and for succulent roasts of small birds. - -The Calandrelle, or Crèou, as Provence calls it, is the first to -arrive. As soon as August has begun it may be seen exploring the stony -fields, seeking the seeds of the Setaria, an ill weed affecting -cultivated ground. At the least alarm it flies off, making a harsh -guttural sound sufficiently expressed by its Provençal name. It is soon -followed by the whinchat, which preys quietly on small weevils, -crickets, and ants in old fields of luzern. With the whinchat begins -the long line of small birds suitable for the spit. It is continued in -September by the most celebrated of them—the common wheat-ear, -glorified by all who are capable of appreciating its high qualities. -Never did the Beccafico of the Roman gourmet, immortalised in Martial’s -epigrams, rival the delicious, perfumed ball of fat the wheat-ear makes -when it has grown scandalously obese on an immoderate diet. It consumes -every kind of insect voraciously. My archives as a sportsman-naturalist -give a list of the contents of its gizzard. All the small people of the -fallows are in it,—larvæ and weevils of every kind, crickets, -chrysomelides, grasshoppers, cassidides, earwigs, ants, spiders, -hundred-legs, snails, wire-worms, and ever so many more. And as a -change from this spicy diet there are grapes, blackberries, and -cornel-berries. Such is the bill of fare sought incessantly by the -wheat-ear as it flutters from clod to clod, the white feathers of its -outspread tail giving it the look of a butterfly on the wing. Heaven -only knows to what amount of fat it can attain. - -Only one other bird surpasses it in the art of fattening itself, and -that is its fellow emigrant,—another voracious devourer of insects,—the -bush pipit as it is absurdly styled by those who name birds, while the -dullest of our shepherds never hesitate to call it Le Grasset, i.e. the -fattest of the fat. The name is sufficient to point out its leading -characteristic. Never another bird attains such a degree of obesity. A -moment arrives when, loaded all over with fat, it becomes like a small -pat of butter. The unfortunate bird can hardly flutter from one -mulberry tree to another, panting in the thick foliage, half choked -with melting fat, a victim to his love of weevil. - -October brings the slender gray wagtail, pied ash colour and white, -with a large black velvet gorget. The charming bird, running and -wagging its tail, follows the ploughman almost under the horses’ feet, -picking up insects in the newly turned furrow. About the same time -comes the lark,—first in little companies thrown out as scouts, then in -countless bands which take possession of cornfield and fallow, where -abounds their usual food, the seeds of the Setaria. Then on the plain, -amid the sparkle of dewdrops and frost crystals suspended to each blade -of grass, a mirror shoots intermittent flashes under the morning sun. -Then the little owl, driven from shelter by the sportsman, makes its -short flight, alights, stands upright with sudden starts and rolling of -alarmed eyes, and the lark comes with a dipping flight, anxious for a -close inspection of the bright thing or the odd bird. There it is, some -fifteen paces away—its feet hanging, its wings outspread like a -saint-esprit. The moment has come; aim and fire. I hope that my readers -may experience the emotions of this delightful sport. - -With the lark, and often in the same flocks, comes the titlark—the -sisi—another word giving the bird’s little call. None rushes more -vehemently upon the owl, round and round which it circles and hovers -incessantly. This may suffice as a review of the birds which visit us. -Most of them make it only a halting-place, staying for a few weeks, -attracted by the abundance of food, especially of insects; then, -strengthened and plump, off they go. A few take up winter quarters in -our plains, where snow is very rare, and there are countless little -seeds to be picked up even in the heart of the cold season. The lark -which searches wheat fields and fallows is one; another is the titlark, -which prefers fields of luzern and meadows. - -The skylark, so common in almost every part of France, does not nest in -the plains of Vaucluse, where it is replaced by the crested lark—friend -of the highway and of the road-mender. But it is not necessary to go -far north to find the favourite places for its broods; the next -department, the Drôme, is rich in its nests. Very probably, therefore, -among the flocks of larks which take possession of our plains for all -autumn and winter many come from no farther than the Drôme. They need -only migrate into the next department to find plains that know not -snow, and a certainty of little seeds. - -A like migration to a short distance seems to me to have caused the -assemblage of Ammophila on the top of Mont Ventoux. I have proved that -this insect spends the winter in the perfect state, sheltering -somewhere and awaiting April to build its nest. Like the lark it must -take precautions against the cold season; though capable of fasting -till flowers return, the chilly thing must find protection against the -deadly attacks of the cold. It must flee snowy districts, where the -soil is deeply frozen, and, gathering in troops like migrant birds, -cross hill and dale to seek a home in old walls and banks warmed by a -southern sun. When the cold is gone, all or part of the band will -return whence they came. This would explain the assemblage on Mont -Ventoux. It was a migrant tribe, which, on its way from the cold land -of the Drôme to descend into the warm plains of the olive, had to cross -the deep, wide valley of the Toulourenc, and, surprised by the rain, -halted on the mountain top. Apparently A. hirsuta has to migrate to -escape winter cold. When the small migratory birds set out in flocks, -it too must journey from a cold district to a neighbouring one which is -warmer. Some valleys crossed, some mountains overpassed, and it finds -the climate sought. - -I have two other instances of extraordinary insect gatherings at great -heights. I have seen the chapel on Mont Ventoux covered with -seven-spotted ladybirds, as they are popularly called. These insects -clung to the stone of walls and pavement so close together that the -rude building looked, at a few paces off, like an object made of coral -beads. I should not dare to say how many myriads were assembled there. -Certainly it was not food which had attracted these eaters of Aphidæ to -the top of Mont Ventoux, some 6000 feet high. Vegetation is too -scanty—never Aphis ventured up there. - -Another time, in June, on the tableland of St. Amand, at a height of -734 mètres, I saw a similar gathering, only less numerous. At the most -projecting part of the tableland, on the edge of an escarpment of -perpendicular rocks, rises a cross with a pedestal of hewn stone. On -every side of this pedestal, and on the rocks serving as its base, the -very same beetle, the seven-spotted ladybird of Mont Ventoux, was -gathered in legions. They were mostly quite still, but wherever the -sunbeams struck there was a continuous exchange of place between the -newcomers, who wanted to find room, and those resting, who took wing -only to return after a short flight. Neither here any more than on the -top of Mont Ventoux was there anything to explain the cause of these -strange assemblages on arid spots without Aphidæ and noways attractive -to Coccinellidæ,—nothing which could suggest the secret of these -populous gatherings upon masonry standing at so great an elevation. - -Have we here two examples of insect migration? Can there be a general -meeting such as swallows hold before the day of their common departure? -Were these rendezvous whence the cloud of ladybirds were to seek some -district richer in food? It may be so, but it is very extraordinary. -The ladybird has never been talked of for her love of travel. She seems -a home-loving creature enough when we see her slaying the green-fly on -rose trees, and black-fly on beans, and yet with her short wings she -mounts to the top of Ventoux and holds a general assembly where the -swallow herself only ascends in her wildest flights. Why these -gatherings at such heights? Why this liking for blocks of masonry? - - - - - - - - - -XV - -THE AMMOPHILA - - -A slender waist, a slim shape, an abdomen much compressed at the upper -part, and seemingly attached to the body by a mere thread, a black robe -with a red scarf on its under parts,—such is the description of these -Fossors; like Sphegidæ in form and colouring, but very different in -habits. The Sphegidæ hunt Orthoptera, crickets, ephippigers, and -grasshoppers, while the Ammophila chases caterpillars. This difference -of prey at once suggests new methods in the murderous tactics of -instinct. - -Did not the name sound pleasant to the ear, I should be inclined to -quarrel with Ammophila, which means sand-lover, as being too exclusive -and often erroneous. The true lovers of sand—dry, powdery, and slippery -sand—are the Bembex, which prey on flies: but the caterpillar-hunters, -whose history I am about to tell, have no liking for pure, loose sand, -and even avoid it as being too subject to landslips which may be caused -by a mere trifle. Their vertical pits, which must remain open until the -cell is stored with food and an egg, require more solid materials if -they are not to be blocked prematurely. What they want is a light soil, -easy to mine, where the sandy element is cemented by a little clay and -lime. The edges of paths—slopes of thin grass exposed to the sun,—such -are the places they favour. In spring, from the first days of April, -one sees Ammophila hirsuta there; in September and October there are A. -sabulosa, A. argentata, and A. holosericea. I will make an abstract of -the notes furnished by these four species. - -For all four the burrow is a vertical shaft, a kind of well, with at -most the dimension of a large goose quill, and about two inches deep. -At the bottom is a single cell, formed by a simple widening of the -shaft. To sum up, it is a poor dwelling, obtained at small expense, at -one sitting, affording no protection if the larva had not four wrappers -in its cocoon, like the Sphex. The Ammophila excavates alone, -deliberately, with no joyous ardour. As usual, the anterior tarsi do -duty as rakes and the mandibles as mining tools. If some grain of sand -offer too much resistance, you may hear rising from the bottom of the -well a kind of shrill grinding sound, produced by the vibration of the -wings and entire body as if to express the insect’s struggles. -Frequently the Hymenopteron comes up with a load of refuse in its jaws, -some bit of gravel which it drops as it flies some little way off, in -order not to block up the place. Some appear to merit special attention -by their form and size,—at least the Ammophila does not treat them like -the rest, for instead of carrying them away on the wing, she goes on -foot and drops them near the shaft. They are choice material—blocks -ready prepared to stop up the dwelling by and by. - -This outside work is done with a self-contained air and great -diligence. High on its legs, its abdomen outstretched at the end of its -long petiole, it turns round and moves its whole body at once with the -geometrical stiffness of a line revolving on itself. If it has to throw -away to a distance the rubbish it decides to be only encumbrances, it -does this with little silent flights, often backwards, as if, having -come out of the shaft tail first, it thought to save time by not -turning round. Species with long-stalked bodies, like A. sabulosa and -A. argentata, are those that chiefly display this automaton-like -rigidity. Their abdomen, enlarged to a pear-shape at the end of a -thread, is very troublesome to manage; a sudden movement might injure -the fine stalk, and the insect has to walk with a kind of geometrical -precision, and if it flies, it goes backward to avoid tacking too -often. On the other hand, A. hirsuta, which has an abdomen with a short -petiole, works at its burrow with swift easy movements such as one -admires in most of the miners. It can move more freely, not being -embarrassed by its abdomen. - -The dwelling is hollowed out. Later on, when the sun has passed from -the spot where the hole is bored, the Ammophila is sure to visit the -little heap of stones set aside during her burrowing, intent to choose -some bit which suits her. If she can find nothing that will do she -explores round about, and soon discovers what she wants—namely, a small -flat stone rather larger than the mouth of her well. She carries it off -in her mandibles, and for the time being closes the shaft with it. Next -day, when it is hot again, and when the sun bathes the slopes and -favours the chase, she will know perfectly well how to find her home -again, secured by the massive door, and she will return with a -paralysed caterpillar, seized by the nape of its neck and dragged -between its captor’s feet; she will lift the stone, which is just like -all the others near, and the secret of which is known only to her, will -carry down the prey, lay an egg, and then stop the burrow once for all -by sweeping into the shaft all the rubbish kept near at hand. - -Several times I have seen this temporary closing of the hole by A. -sabulosa and A. argentata when the sun grew low and the late hour -obliged them to wait until the next day to go out hunting. When they -had put the seals on their dwellings I too waited for the morrow to -continue my observations, but first I made sure of the spot by taking -my bearings and sticking in some bits of wood in order to rediscover -the well when closed, and always, unless I came too early, if I let the -Hymenopteron profit by full sunshine, I found the burrow stored and -closed for good and all. - -The fidelity of memory shown here is striking. The insect, belated at -its work, puts off completing it until the morrow. It passes neither -evening nor night in the new-made abode, but departs after marking the -entrance with a small stone. The spot is no more familiar to it than -any other, for like Sphex occitanica the Ammophila lodges her family -here and there as she may chance to wander. The creature came here by -chance, like the soil, and dug the burrow, and now departs. Whither? -Who knows? Perhaps to the flowers near, to lick up by the last gleam of -day a drop of sugary liquid at the bottom of their cups, just as a -miner after labouring in his dark gallery seeks the consolation of his -bottle when evening comes. The Ammophila may be enticed farther and -farther by the inviting blossoms. Evening, night, and morning pass, and -now she must return to her burrow and complete her task,—return after -all her windings and wanderings in the chase that morning, and the -flight from flower to flower, and the libations of the previous -evening. That a wasp should return to the nest and a bee to the hive -does not surprise me; these are permanent abodes, and the ways back are -known by long practice, but the Ammophila, who has to return after so -long an absence, has no aid from acquaintance with the locality. Her -shaft is in a place which she visited yesterday, perhaps for the first -time, and must find again to-day when quite beyond her bearings, and, -moreover, when she is encumbered by heavy prey. Yet this exploit of -topographical memory is accomplished, and sometimes with a precision -which left me amazed. The insect made straight for the burrow as if -long used to every path in the neighbourhood; but at other times there -would be long visitation and repeated searches. - -If the difficulty become serious, the prey, which is an embarrassing -load in a hurried exploration, is laid in some obvious place, on a tuft -of thyme or grass, where it can be easily seen when wanted. Freed from -this burden the Ammophila resumes an active search. As she hunted about -I have traced with a pencil the track made by her. The result was a -labyrinth of lines, with curves and sudden angles, now returning inward -and now branching outward—knots and meshes and repeated intersections—a -maze, showing how perplexed and astray was the insect. - -The shaft found and the stone lifted, she must return to the prey, not -without some uncertainty when comings and goings have been too many. -Although it was left in a place obvious enough, the Ammophila often -seems at a loss when the time comes to drag it home; at least, if there -be a very long search for the burrow, one sees her suddenly stop and go -back to the caterpillar, feel it and give it a little bite, as if to -make sure that it is her very own game and property, hurrying back to -seek for the burrow, but returning a second time if needful, or even a -third, to visit her prey. I incline to believe that these repeated -visits are made to refresh her memory as to where she left it. - -This is what happens in very complex cases, but generally the insect -returns without difficulty to the spot whither its vagrant life may -have led it. For guide it has that local memory whose marvellous feats -I shall later have occasion to relate. As for me, in order to return -next day to the burrow hidden under the little flat stone, I dared not -trust to my memory, but had to use notes, sketches, to take my -bearings, and stick in pegs—in short, a whole array of geometry. - -The temporary closing of the burrow with a flat stone as practised by -A. sabulosa and A. holosericea appears unknown to the two other -species; at least I never saw their homes protected by a covering. This -is natural in the case of A. hirsuta, for, I believe, this species -hunts the prey first and then burrows near the place of capture. As -provender can therefore be at once stored it is useless to take any -trouble about a cover. As for A. holosericea, I suspect there is -another reason for not using any temporary door. While the two others -only put one caterpillar in each cell, she puts as many as five, but -much smaller ones. Just as we ourselves neglect to shut a door where -some one is constantly passing to and fro, perhaps this Ammophila -neglects to place a stone on a well which she will go down at least -five times within a short space of time. All four lay up caterpillars -of moths for their larvæ. A. holosericea chooses, though not -exclusively, those slender, long caterpillars known as Loopers. They -move as a compass might by opening and closing alternately, whence -their expressive French name of Measurers. The same burrow includes -provisions of varied colours—a proof that this Ammophila hunts all -kinds of Loopers so long as they are small, for she herself is but -feeble and the larva cannot eat much, in spite of the five heads of -game set before it. If Loopers fail, the Hymenopteron falls back on -other caterpillars equally small. Rolled up from the effect of the -sting which paralysed them, all five are heaped in the cell; the top -one bears the egg for which the provender is destined. - -The three other Ammophilæ give but one caterpillar to each cell. -True—size makes up for this; the game selected is corpulent, plump, -amply sufficing the grub’s appetite. For instance, I have taken out of -the mandibles of A. holosericea a caterpillar fifteen times her own -weight—fifteen times!—an enormous sum if you consider what an -expenditure of strength it implies to drag such game by the nape of its -neck over the endless difficulties of the ground. No other Hymenopteron -tried in the scales with its prey has shown me a like disproportion -between spoiler and capture. The almost endless variety of colouring in -the provender exhumed from the burrows or recognised in the grasp of -the various species also proves that the three have no preference, but -seize the first caterpillar met with, provided it be neither too large -nor too small, and belongs to the moths. The commonest prey are those -gray caterpillars which infest the plant at the junction of a root and -stem just below the soil. - -That which governs the whole history of the Ammophila, and more -especially attracted my attention, was the way in which the insect -masters its prey and plunges it into the harmless state required for -the safety of the larva. The prey, a caterpillar, is very differently -organised from the victims which we have hitherto seen -sacrificed—Buprestids, Weevils, Grasshoppers, and Ephippigers. It is -composed of a series of segments or rings set end to end, the three -first bearing the true feet which will be those of the future -butterfly; others bear membranous or false feet special to the -caterpillar and not represented in the butterfly; others again are -without limbs. Each ring has its ganglion, the source of feeling and -movement, so that the nerve system comprehends twelve distinct centres -well separated from each other, without counting the œsophageal -ganglion placed under the skull, and which may be compared to the -brain. - -We are here a long way from the nerve centralisation of the Weevil and -Buprestis that lends itself so readily to general paralysis by a single -stab; very far too from the thoracic ganglia which the Sphex wounds -successively to put a stop to the movements of her crickets. Instead of -a single centralised point—instead of three nerve centres—the -caterpillar has twelve, separated one from another by the length of a -segment and arranged in a ventral chain along the median line of the -body. Moreover, as is the rule among lower animals, where the same -organ is very often repeated and loses power by diffusion, these -various nervous centres are largely independent of each other, each -animating its own segment, and are but slightly disturbed by disorder -in neighbouring ones. Let one segment lose motion and feeling, yet -those uninjured will none the less remain long capable of both. These -facts suffice to show the high interest attaching to the murderous -proceedings of the Hymenopteron with regard to its prey. - -But if the interest be great, the difficulty of observation is not -small. The solitary habits of the Ammophila,—their being scattered -singly over wide spaces, and their being almost always met with by mere -chance,—almost forbid, as in the case of Sphex occitanica, any -experiment being prepared beforehand. Long must a chance be watched for -and awaited with unalterable patience, and one must know how instantly -to profit by it when at last it comes just when least expected. I have -waited for such a chance for years and years, and then, all at once, I -got the opportunity with a facility for observation and clearness of -detail which made up for the long waiting. - -At the beginning of my observations I succeeded twice in watching the -murder of the caterpillar, and saw, as far as the rapidity of the -operation allowed, that the sting of the Hymenopteron struck once for -all at the fifth or sixth segment of the victim. To confirm this I -bethought myself of making sure which ring was stabbed by examining -caterpillars which I had not seen sacrificed, but had carried off from -their captors while they were being dragged to the burrow; but it was -vain to use a microscope,—no microscope can show any trace of such a -wound. This was the plan adopted. The caterpillar being quite still, I -tried each segment with the point of a fine needle, measuring the -amount of sensibility by the greater or less pain given. Should the -needle entirely transpierce the fifth segment or the sixth, there is no -movement. But prick even slightly one in front or behind, the -caterpillar struggles with a violence proportioned to the distance from -the poisoned segment. Especially does the least touch on the hinder -ones produce frantic contorsions. So there was but one stab, and it was -given in the fifth or sixth segment. - -What special reason is there that one or other of these two should be -the spot chosen by the assassin? None in their organisation, but their -position is another thing. Omitting the Loopers of Ammophila -holosericea, I find that the prey of the others has the following -organisation, counting the head as the first segment:—Three pairs of -true feet on rings two, three, and four; four pairs of membranous feet -on rings seven, eight, nine, and ten, and a last similar pair set on -the thirteenth and final ring; in all eight pairs of feet, the seven -first making two marked groups—one of three, the other of four pairs. -These two groups are divided by two segments without feet, which are -the fifth and sixth. - -Now, to deprive the caterpillar of means of escape, and to render it -motionless, will the Hymenopteron dart its sting into each of the eight -rings provided with feet? Especially will it do so when the prey is -small and weak? Certainly not: a single stab will suffice if given in a -central spot, whence the torpor produced by the venomous droplet can -spread gradually with as little delay as possible into the midst of -those segments which bear feet. There can be no doubt which to choose -for this single inoculation; it must be the fifth or sixth, which -separate the two groups of locomotive rings. The point indicated by -rational deduction is also the one adopted by instinct. Finally, let us -add that the egg of the Ammophila is invariably laid on the paralysed -ring. There, and there alone, can the young larva bite without inducing -dangerous contorsions; where a needle prick has no effect, the bite of -a grub will have none either, and the prey will remain immovable until -the nursling has gained strength and can bite farther on without -danger. - -With further researches doubts assailed me, not as to my deductions, -but as to how widely I might extend them. That many feeble Loopers and -other small caterpillars are disabled by a single stab, especially when -struck at so favourable a point as the one just named, is very probable -in itself, and, moreover, is shown both by direct observation and by -experiments on their sensibility with the point of a needle. But -Ammophila sabulosa and hirsuta catch huge prey, whose weight, as -already said, is fifteen times that of the captor. Can such giant prey -be treated like a poor Looper? Can a single stab subdue the monster and -render it incapable of harm? If the fearsome gray worm strike the cell -walls with its strong body, will it not endanger the egg or the little -larva? One dares not imagine a tête-à-tête in the small cell at the -bottom of the burrow between the frail, newly-hatched creature and this -kind of dragon:—still able to coil and uncoil its lithe folds. - -My suspicions were heightened by examination as to the sensitiveness of -the caterpillar. While the small game of Ammophila holosericea and -hirsuta struggle violently if pricked elsewhere than in the part -stabbed, the large caterpillars of A. sabulosa, and above all of A. -hirsuta, remain motionless, no matter which segment be stimulated. They -show no contortions or sudden twisting of the body, the steel point -only producing as a sign faint shudderings of the skin. As the safety -of a larva provided with such huge prey requires, motion and feeling -are almost quite destroyed. Before introducing it into the burrow, the -Hymenopteron turns it into a mass—inert indeed, yet not dead. - -I have been able to watch the Ammophila use her instrument on the -robust caterpillar, and never did the infused science of instinct show -me anything more striking. With a friend—alas! soon after snatched from -me by death—I was returning from the tableland of Les Angles after -preparing snares to put the cleverness of Scarabæus sacer to the proof, -when we caught sight of an Ammophila hirsuta very busy at the foot of a -tuft of thyme. We instantly lay down very close by. Our presence noways -alarmed the insect, which alighted for a moment on my sleeve, decided -that since her visitors did not move they must be harmless, and -returned to her tuft of thyme. Well used to the ways of Ammophila, I -knew what this audacious tameness meant—she was occupied by some -serious affair. We would wait and see. The Ammophila scratched in the -ground round the collar of the plant, pulling up thin little grass -roots, and poked her head under the tiny clods which she raised up, ran -hurriedly, now here, now there, round the thyme, visiting every crack -which gave access under it; yet she was not digging a burrow, but -hunting something hidden underground, as was shown by manœuvres like -those of a dog trying to get a rabbit out of its hole. And presently, -disturbed by what was going on overhead and closely tracked by the -Ammophila, a big gray worm made up his mind to quit his abode and come -up to daylight. It is all over with him; the hunter is instantly on the -spot, gripping the nape of his neck and holding on in spite of his -contortions. Settled on the monster’s back the Ammophila bends her -abdomen, and methodically, deliberately—like a surgeon thoroughly -familiar with the anatomy of his subject—plunges a lancet into the -ventral surface of every segment, from the first to the last. Not one -ring is omitted; with or without feet each is stabbed in due order from -the front to the back. - -This is what I saw with all the leisure and ease required for an -irreproachable observation. The Hymenopteron acts with a precision of -which science might be jealous; it knows what man but rarely knows; it -is acquainted with the complex nervous system of its victim, and keeps -repeated stabs for those with numerous ganglia. I said “It knows; is -acquainted”: what I ought to say is, “It acts as if it did.” What it -does is suggested to it; the creature obeys, impelled by instinct, -without reasoning on what it does. But whence comes this sublime -instinct? Can theories of atavism, of selection, of the struggle for -life, interpret it reasonably? For my friend and myself it was and is -one of the most eloquent revelations of the ineffable logic which rules -the world and guides the unconscious by the laws which it inspires. -Stirred to the heart by this flash of truth, both of us felt a tear of -emotion rise to our eyes. - - - - - - - - - -XVI - -THE BEMBEX - - -Not far from Avignon, on the right bank of the Rhône opposite the mouth -of the Durance, is one of my favourite points for the observations -about to be recorded. It is the Bois des Issarts. Let no one deceive -himself as to the value of the word “bois”—wood, which usually gives -the idea of a soil carpeted with fresh moss and the shade of lofty -trees, through whose foliage filters a subdued light. Scorching plains, -where the cicada grinds out its song under pale olives, know nothing of -such delicious retreats full of shade and coolness. - -The Bois des Issarts is composed of thin and scattered groups of ilex, -which hardly lessen the force of the sun’s rays. When I established -myself during the dog days in July and August, I used to settle myself -at some spot in the wood favourable for observations. I took refuge -under a great umbrella, which later lent me most unexpected aid of -another kind, very valuable too, as my story will show in good time. If -I had neglected to equip myself with this article, embarrassing enough -in a long walk, the only way to avoid sunstroke was to lie at full -length behind some heap of sand, and when my temporal arteries beat -intolerably, the last resource was to shelter my head at the mouth of a -rabbit hole. Such are the means of getting cool in the Bois des -Issarts. - -The soil, unoccupied by any woody vegetation, is almost bare and -composed of a fine, arid, very light sand, heaped by the wind in little -hillocks where the stems and roots of the ilex hinder its blowing -about. The slope of such hillocks is generally very smooth, from the -extreme lightness of the material, which runs down into the least -depression, thus restoring the regularity of the surface. It is enough -to thrust a finger into the sand, and then to withdraw it in order -immediately to cause a downfall, which fills up the cavity and -re-establishes the former state of things without leaving any trace. -But at a certain depth, varying according to the more or less recent -date of the last rains, the sand retains a dampness which keeps it -stable, and lends a consistency allowing of slight excavations without -roof and walls falling in. A burning sun, a radiant blue sky, sand -slopes yielding without the least difficulty to the strokes of the -Hymenopteron’s rake, abundant game for the larvæ, a peaceful site -rarely troubled by the foot of the passer-by,—all unite here in this -paradise of the Bembex. Let us see the industrious insect at work. - -If the reader will come under my umbrella, or profit by my rabbit -burrow, this is the sight which will meet him towards the end of July. -A Bembex (B. rostrata) arrives of a sudden and alights without -hesitation or investigation at a spot which, as far as I see, differs -in nothing from the rest of the sandy surface. With her front tarsi, -which, armed with stiff rows of hairs, suggest at once broom, brush, -and rake, she begins to dig a subterranean dwelling, standing on her -four hind feet, the two last slightly apart, while the front ones -alternately scratch and sweep the loose sand. The precision and -rapidity of the action could not be greater were the circular movement -of the tarsi worked by a spring. The sand, shot backward under the -creature, clears the arch of its hind legs, trickling like a liquid in -a continuous thread, describing a parabola and falling some eight -inches away. This dusty jet, constantly fed for five or ten minutes, is -enough to show with what dizzy rapidity the tools are used. I could -quote no second example of equal swiftness, which yet in no way -detracts from the elegance and free movements of the insect as it -advances and retires, now on one side, now on another, without allowing -the parabola of sand to stop. - -The soil hollowed is of the lightest kind. As the Hymenopteron -excavates, the sand near falls and fills the cavity. In the landslip -are mingled little bits of wood, decayed leaf-stalks, and grains of -gravel larger than the rest. The Bembex picks these up in her -mandibles, and, moving backward, carries them to a distance, returning -to sweep again, but always lightly, without attempting to penetrate -into the earth. What is the object in this surface labour? It would be -impossible to learn from a first glance, but after spending many days -with my dear Hymenoptera, and grouping together the scattered results -of my observations, I think I divine the motive of these proceedings. - -The nest is certainly there—underground, at the depth of a few inches: -in a little cell, dug in cool firm sand, is an egg, perhaps a larva, -which the mother feeds daily with flies, the invariable food of Bembex -larvæ. She must be able at any moment to penetrate to this nest, -carrying on the wing, between her feet, the nursling’s daily ration, -just as a bird of prey arrives at its eyrie carrying game for its brood -in its claw. But while the bird returns to a nest on some inaccessible -shelf of rock, without any difficulty beyond the weight of its prey, -the Bembex must undertake each time the hard work of mining, opening -afresh a gallery blocked and closed by ever-sliding sand in proportion -as she proceeds. The only stable part of this underground abode is the -spacious cell inhabited by the larva amid the remains of a fortnight’s -feast; the narrow vestibule entered by the mother to go down to the -cell, or come forth for the chase, gives way each time, at all events -at the upper end, built in dry sand, rendered even looser by her -constant goings and comings. Thus at each entrance or exit the -Hymenopteron must clear out a passage. The exit offers no difficulties, -even should the sand have the same consistency as when first stirred; -the insect’s movements are free; it is safe under cover, can take its -time and use tarsi and mandibles at its leisure. Going in is another -matter. The Bembex is embarrassed by her prey, pressed to her body by -her feet, so that there is no free use of the mining tools. What is -more serious is that impudent parasites—veritable bandits in ambush—are -crouching here and there about the burrow watching her difficult -entrance to hurriedly drop their egg on the game just as it disappears -into the gallery. If they succeed, the son of the house, the -Hymenopteron’s nursling, will perish, starved by greedy guests. - -The Bembex seems aware of this danger, and arranges so as to enter -quickly, without serious obstacles, so that the sand blocking the door -should yield to a mere push from her head, aided by a rapid sweep of -the forelegs. To this end she, so to say, sifts the materials round her -abode. In leisure moments, when the sun shines and the larva has its -food, and does not need her care, the mother rakes before her door, and -puts on one side all the tiny bits of wood, of over-large gravel or -leaves, which might get on her path and bar the passage at the perilous -moment of return. The Bembex which we saw so hard at work was busy -sifting so as to make access to her abode easier; the materials of the -vestibule are examined, minutely sorted, and cleared of every -encumbrance. Who can tell whether the rapid labour and joyous activity -of the insect do not express in their own way her maternal satisfaction -and happiness in caring for the roof of the cell which has received the -precious trust of the egg? As the Bembex confines herself to exterior -household cares without seeking to penetrate the sand, everything must -be in order within, and there is nothing pressing to do. We may wait, -but for the time the insect will teach us nothing more. Let us -therefore examine the underground dwelling. - -By lightly scratching the bank with the blade of a knife just where the -Bembex was oftenest seen, one soon discovers the entrance hall, which, -blocked as it is for part of its length, is none the less recognisable -by the special look of the materials moved about. This passage, a -finger’s-breadth in size, rectilinear or winding, longer or shorter, -according to the nature of the ground, measures eight to twelve inches. -It leads to a single chamber, hollowed in damp sand, with walls -undaubed with mortar, which might prevent landslips and lend polish to -the rough surface. Enough if the ceiling lasts while the larva is being -fed up. Future falling-in matters little when the larva is enclosed in -its stout cocoon—a kind of strong box, which we shall see in process of -construction. In workmanship the cell is as rustic as possible, being -merely a rude excavation with no well-determined form, low roofed, and -of a size which might hold two or three nests. - -Within lies one head of game—one only—quite small and quite -insufficient for the voracious nursling for whom it is destined. It is -a golden green-fly, Lucilia Cæsar, a dweller in tainted meat, and is -quite motionless. Is it really dead or only paralysed? This will be -cleared up later. Just now let us observe the cylindrical egg upon its -side, white, slightly curved, and a couple of millimetres in length. It -is a Bembex egg. As we have foreseen from the mother’s behaviour, there -is no pressing household business; the egg is laid and a first ration -provided for the needs of the feeble larva, which ought to hatch in -twenty-four hours. For some time the Bembex need not re-enter her hole, -confining herself to keeping a good lookout in the neighbourhood, or -possibly making new burrows and laying there egg after egg, always in a -separate cell. - -This peculiarity of beginning to lay in food by a single small piece of -game is not peculiar to Bembex rostrata; all the other species do the -same. Open any cell after the egg is laid, and you always find it glued -to the side of a Dipteron—all the food there is; moreover, this first -ration is invariably small, as if the mother had sought some specially -tender mouthful for her frail nursling. Another motive, the freshness -of the food, may also have guided her choice. Later we will look -further into the matter. This first ration—always a moderate one—varies -much, according to the frequency of such or such a kind of game in the -neighbourhood. It is sometimes a Lucilia Cæsar, sometimes a Stomoxys, -or some small Eristalis, or a delicate Bombylius clad in black velvet, -but the commonest is a Sphærophoria with a slender abdomen. This fact -(and it has no exception) of storing the nest with but a single -Dipteron,—a ration far too meagre for a larva with a voracious -appetite,—at once puts us on the track of the most remarkable habit of -the Bembecidæ. Hymenoptera whose larvæ live on prey heap into each cell -the whole number of victims needed by the grub, which is hatched and -lives alone,—an egg having been laid on one fly and the dwelling closed -up. The larva has before it its whole store of food. But the Bembex is -an exception to this rule. First a head of game is brought to the cell -and an egg dropped on it. Then the mother leaves the burrow, which -closes of its own accord; besides which she takes care to rake the -surface smooth, and hide the entrance from every eye but her own. - -Two or three days pass: the egg hatches and the small larva eats up its -choice ration. Meanwhile, the mother remains near: one may see her -licking the sugary exudations on the flower-heads of Eryngium campestre -for nourishment, then settling with enjoyment on the burning sand, -whence she doubtless surveys the exterior of her dwelling, or she sifts -the sand at its entrance, then flies off and vanishes—perhaps to -excavate other cells to be stored in a like manner. But however -prolonged her absence, she does not forget the young larva so scantily -provided for; maternal instinct teaches her the hour when the grub has -finished its food and needs new sustenance. Then she comes back to the -nest whose invisible entrance she knows right well how to find, and -penetrates the hollow—this time laden with a larger prey. This -deposited, she goes out again, and awaits outside the time for a second -expedition. It soon comes, for the larva shows a devouring appetite. -Again the mother arrives with fresh provender. - -During almost a fortnight, while the larva is growing, the meals follow -each other thus, one by one, as it needs them, and so much the nearer -together as the nursling grows stronger. Toward the end of the -fortnight the mother requires all her activity to supply the glutton’s -appetite as it crawls heavily amid the remains of its repasts—wings, -feet, and horny rings of abdomens. Each moment she returns with a new -capture or comes forth for the chase. In short, the Bembex brings up -her family from hand to mouth without storing provisions, like the bird -which brings a beakful of food to the little ones still in the nest. -Among the numerous proofs of this method of upbringing—one very -singular in a Hymenopteron which feeds its family on prey—I have -already mentioned the presence of the egg in a cell where but one -little fly is found as provender—always one—never more. Another proof -is the following one, which does not require any special moment for its -ascertainment. - -Let us examine the burrow of a Hymenopteron, which provides beforehand -for its larvæ. If we choose the moment when the insect enters with a -captive, we shall find in the cell a certain number of victims already -stored, but never a larva—not even an egg, for this is only laid when -the provisions are complete. The egg deposited, the cell is closed, and -the mother returns no more. It is, therefore, only in burrows where the -mother’s visits are no longer needed that one can find larvæ amid the -larger or smaller heap of food. Visit, on the other hand, the dwelling -of a Bembex as she enters with the produce of her chase, and you are -sure to find a larva, larger or smaller, amid the remains of food -already devoured. The ration now brought is to continue a repast which -has been going on for several days, and is to be prolonged upon the -produce of future expeditions. If we can make this examination towards -the end of the larva’s upbringing,—an advantage which I have enjoyed at -pleasure,—we shall find upon a great heap of fragments a portly larva, -to which the mother is still bringing food. The Bembex only ceases to -do so and to leave the cell definitely when the larva, distended by a -wine-coloured pap, refuses to eat, and reclines, thoroughly stuffed, on -the remains of wings and feet of the game which it has devoured. - -Each time that she penetrates into the burrow on returning from the -chase, the mother brings but a single fly. Were it possible by means of -the remains contained in a cell where the larva is full grown to count -the victims served up, one would at least know how often the -Hymenopteron visited its burrow after the egg is laid. Unfortunately, -these broken meats—munched and munched again in moments of scarcity—are -for the most part unrecognisable. But on opening a cell with a less -advanced nursling, one can examine the provisions, some of the prey -being yet whole or nearly so, and others, more numerous, being trunks -in sufficiently good preservation to be distinguishable. Incomplete as -it is, the enumeration thus obtained strikes one with surprise, as -showing what activity the Hymenopteron must display to satisfy the -demands of such a table. Here is one of the bills of fare observed. - -At the end of July around the larva of Bembex Julia, which had almost -reached the third of its full size, I found the prey of which the -following is the list:—Six Echinomyia rubescens—two whole and four in -pieces; four Syrphus corollæ—two whole, two in fragments; three Gonia -atra—all intact, and one just brought by the mother, which had enabled -me to discover the burrow; two Pollenia ruficollis—one whole, one -attacked; a Bombylius reduced to pulp; two Echinomyia intermedia in -bits; and finally two Pollenia floralis, also in bits—total, twenty. -Certainly we have here a bill of fare as abundant as varied, but as the -larva had only attained to a third of its complete size, the entire -bill of fare might well amount to sixty articles. - -The verification of this magnificent sum-total is easily obtained. I -myself will undertake the maternal cares of the Bembex, and feed the -larva until it is thoroughly satisfied. I place the cell in a little -cardboard box furnished with a layer of sand. On this bed is placed the -larva with due regard to its delicate epidermis. Around it, without -omitting a single fragment, I arrange the provender with which it was -supplied, and return home with the box still in my hand, to avoid any -shake which might turn it topsy-turvy and endanger my charge during a -journey of several miles. Any one who had seen me on the dusty road to -Nîmes, exhausted with fatigue and bearing religiously in my hand, as -the only result of my painful journey, a wretched grub, distending -itself with a heap of flies, would assuredly have smiled at my -simplicity. The journey was achieved without hindrance; when I got home -the larva was peacefully consuming its flies as if nothing had -happened. On the third day the provisions taken from the burrow were -finished, and the grub with its pointed mouth was searching in the heap -of remains without finding anything to its taste. The dry, horny, -juiceless pieces which it got hold of were rejected with disgust. The -moment had come for me to continue the food supply. The first Diptera -within reach must content my prisoner; I slew them by squeezing them -between my fingers, but did not crush them. Three Eristalis tenax -composed the first ration, together with a Sarcophaga. In twenty-four -hours all were devoured. The next day I provided two Eristalis and four -house-flies. This sufficed for that day, but nothing was left over. I -went on thus for a week, giving the grub each morning a larger ration. -On the ninth day it refused to eat and began to spin its cocoon. The -bill of fare for the week’s high feeding amounted to sixty-two items, -chiefly Eristalis and house-flies, which, added to the twenty items -found entire or in fragments in the cell, formed a total of eighty-two. - -Possibly I may not have brought up my larva with the wholesome -frugality which the mother would have shown; there may have been some -waste in the daily rations, provided all at once and left entirely to -the discretion of the grub. I fancied that in some particulars things -did not go on exactly as in the cell, for my notes have such details -as: “In the alluvial sands of the Durance I discovered a burrow into -which Bembex oculata had taken a Sarcophaga agricola. At the bottom of -the gallery was a larva, numerous fragments, and some Diptera -entire—namely, four Sphærophoria scripta, one Onesia viarum, and two -Sarcophaga agricola, counting that which the Bembex had brought under -my very eyes.” Now it must be remarked that one half of this game, the -Sphærophoria, was quite at the bottom of the cell—under the very jaws -of the larva, while the other half was still in the gallery—on the -threshold of the cell—consequently out of the grub’s reach, as it could -not leave its place. It would seem that when game abounds, the mother -disposes provisionally of her captures on the threshold of the cell, -and forms a reserve on which she draws as need arises, especially on -rainy days, when all labour is at a standstill. This economy in -distributing food would prevent the waste unavoidable with my larva -perhaps too sumptuously treated. I subtract then from the sum obtained, -and reduce it to sixty pieces of medium size, between that of the -house-fly and Eristalis tenax. This would be about the number of -Diptera given by the mother to the larva when the prey is middle-sized, -as is the case with all the Bembecids of my district except B. rostrata -and B. bidentata, which especially favour the gadfly. For these the -number of slain would be from one to two dozen, according to the size -of the Dipteron, which varies greatly in the gadfly species. - -In order not to return to the kind of provisions, I give a list of the -Diptera observed in the burrows of the six kinds of Bembex, which are -the subject of this essay. - -(1) B. olivacea, Rossi. Once only have I seen this species, at -Cavaillon, preying on Lucilia Cæsar. The five next are common round -Avignon. - -(2) B. oculata, Jur. The Dipteron upon which the egg is laid is -generally a Sphærophoria, especially S. scripta; sometimes it is a -Geron gibbosus. Further provender consisted in Stomoxys calcitrans, -Pollenia ruficollis, P. rudis, Pipiza nigripes, Syrphus corollæ, Onesia -viarum, Calliphora vomitoria, Echinomyia intermedia, Sarcophaga -agricola, Musca domestica. The usual food was Stomoxys calcitrans, of -which I have found fifty or sixty in a single burrow. - -(3) Bembex tarsata, Lat. It, too, lays its egg on Sphærophoria scripta; -but it also hunts Anthrax flava, Bombylius nitidulus, Eristalis æneus, -E. sepulchralis, Merodon spinipes, Syrphus corollæ, Helophilus -trivittatus, Zodion notatum. Its favourite prey consists in Bombylius -and Anthrax. - -(4) Bembex Julii (a new species). The egg hatches either on a -Sphærophoria or a Pollenia floralis, and the provender is a mixture of -Syrphus corollæ, Echinomyia rubescens, Gonia atra, Pollenia floralis, -P. ruficollis, Clytia pellucens, Lucilia Cæsar, Dexia rustica, -Bombylius. - -(5) Bembex rostrata. This is above all a captor of gadflies. It lays -its egg on a Syrphus corollæ, or a Lucilia Cæsar, but then only brings -to the larva large game belonging to the various kinds of Tabanus. - -(6) Bembex bidentata. Another ardent hunter of gadflies. I have never -seen it with other game, and do not know on what the egg is laid. - -This variety of provisions shows that the Bembecids have no exclusive -tastes, and attack one and all of the species of Diptera which are -offered by the chances of the chase. They seem, however, to have some -favourites—one species especially choosing Bombylius, another Stomoxys, -and a third and fourth, Gadflies. - - - - - - - - - -XVII - -HUNTING DIPTERA - - -After this bill of fare for Bembecids in the larva state, we must seek -the motive which causes these Hymenoptera to adopt a mode of storage -exceptional among Fossors. Why, instead of laying up sufficient food -and dropping an egg on it, which would allow the cell to be closed at -once without need of returning, does the Hymenopteron oblige itself to -come and go perpetually for a fortnight from the fields to the burrow -and back again, toiling every time through the sand to issue forth and -hunt, or bring back prey? The explanation is that the food must be -fresh—an all-important matter, for the grub absolutely refuses game -which is at all high, with a hint of decay; like the larvæ of all -Fossors, it must have fresh provisions—always fresh provisions. - -We have seen in the case of the Cerceris, Sphex, and Ammophila how the -mother resolves the feeding problem, by placing beforehand in the cell -a sufficient quantity of game, and also that of keeping it for weeks -perfectly fresh—nay, almost alive, though motionless—in order to secure -the safety of the grub which feeds on the prey. This marvel is brought -about by the most skilful means known to physiology. The poisoned sting -is sent into the nerve centres once or oftener, according to the -construction of the nervous system, and the victim retains all which we -call life, except power of motion. - -Let us see if the Bembex practises this deep science of murder. Diptera -taken from between the feet of their captor as the latter enters the -burrow mostly seem quite dead. They are motionless; only in rare cases -are there some slight convulsions of the tarsi—the last vestiges of -life soon to be extinct. The same appearance of complete death is -found, as a rule, in insects not really killed but paralysed by the -skilful stab of a Cerceris or a Sphex. The question as to life or death -can, therefore, only be decided by the manner in which the victims keep -fresh. - -Placed in little paper twists or glass tubes, the Orthoptera of the -Sphex, the caterpillars of the Ammophila, the Coleoptera of the -Cerceris, preserve flexibility of limb and freshness of colour, and the -normal state of their intestines, for weeks and months. They are not -corpses, but bodies plunged in a lethargy from which there will be no -awakening. The Diptera of the Bembex behave quite otherwise. Eristalis, -Syrphus,—in short, all which are brightly coloured,—soon lose their -brilliance; the eyes of certain gadflies, magnificently gilded, and -with three purple bands, soon grow pale and dim, like the gaze of a -dying man. All these Diptera, great and small, placed in paper twists -where air circulates, dry up and grow brittle in two or three days, -while all kept from evaporation in glass tubes, where the air is -stagnant, grow mouldy and decay. So they are dead—really dead—when -carried to the larva. If some few preserve a little life, a few days, a -few hours ends all. Not being clever enough to use its sting, or for -some other reason, the assassin kills its victims outright. - -Knowing this complete death of the prey at the moment when it is -seized, who would not admire the logic of the Bembecid’s manœuvres? How -methodical all is, and how one thing brings about another in all which -the wary Hymenopteron does! As the food could not be stored without its -decaying at the end of two or three days, it cannot be laid in -wholesale at the beginning of a phase of life destined to last at least -a fortnight, and there must be a hunt and distribution of provisions -day by day, in proportion to the larva’s growth. The first ration—that -on which the egg is laid—will last longer than the others, and must be -small, for the little grub will take several days to eat it, and if too -big it would go bad before it was finished. Therefore it will not be a -huge gadfly or a corpulent Bombylius, but a small Sphærophoria, or -something of that kind, as a tender meal for a still frail larva. -Later, and gradually larger, will come the bigger joints. - -In the mother’s absence the burrow must be closed to prevent awkward -intrusions, but the entrance must be one opened quickly, without -serious difficulty, when the Hymenopteron returns loaded with prey, and -laid in wait for by audacious parasites. These conditions would be -wanting in a tenacious soil, such as that in which the mining -Hymenoptera habitually establish themselves. The wide-open entrance -would each time require long and painful labour, whether to close it -with earth or gravel, or to clear it. The domicile, therefore, must be -hollowed in earth with a very light surface, in dry, fine sand, -yielding at once to the least effort of the mother, and which slips and -closes the entrance like floating tapestry, which, pushed back by the -hand, allows entrance and then drops back. Such is the sequence of -acts, deduced by human reason, and put into practice by the wisdom of -the Bembex. - -Why does the spoiler kill the prey instead of paralysing it? Is it want -of skill with the sting? Is it a difficulty arising from the -organisation of the Diptera or from the manœuvres of the chase? I must -own, at once, that I have failed to put a Dipteron, without killing it, -into that state of complete immobility into which it is so easy to -plunge a Buprestis, a Weevil, or a Scarabæus, by injecting a little -drop of ammonia, on the point of a needle, into the thoracic ganglia. -It is difficult to render your subject motionless; when it no longer -moves, actual death has occurred, as is proved by its speedy decay or -desiccation. But I have too much confidence in the resources of -instinct,—I have seen the ingenious solution of too many problems,—to -believe that a difficulty, though insurmountable for the experimenter, -can baffle an insect; therefore, without casting doubt on the Bembex’s -capacity for murder, I should be inclined to seek other motives. - -Perhaps the Dipteron, so thinly cuirassed, of so little substance,—so -lean, in short,—could not, when paralysed by a sting, resist -evaporation, and would dry up in two or three weeks. Consider the -slender Sphærophoria—the larva’s first mouthful. What is there in this -body to evaporate? An atom—a mere nothing. The body is a thin strip—its -two walls touch. Could such prey form a basis for preserved food when a -few hours would evaporate its juices, unrenewed by nutrition? To say -the least, it is doubtful. - -Let us proceed to consider the manner of hunting, by way of throwing a -final light on the subject. In prey withdrawn from the clasp of a -Bembex, one may not infrequently observe indications of a capture made -in haste, as best might be, in the chances of a wild struggle. -Sometimes the Dipteron has its head turned backward, as if its neck had -been twisted, its wings are crumpled, and its hairs, if it have any, -are ruffled. I have seen one with the body ripped open by a bite from -the mandibles, and legs lost in the battle. Usually, however, the prey -is intact. - -No matter. Considering that the game has wings prompt in flight, the -capture must be made with a suddenness which it seems to me hardly -allows of obtaining paralysis without death. A Cerceris with its heavy -weevil, a Sphex engaged with a corpulent grasshopper or a paunched -ephippiger, an Ammophila holding its caterpillar by the nape of its -neck, have all three the advantage over a prey too slow to avoid -attack. They may take their time, choose at leisure the exact spot -where the sting shall penetrate, and, in short, can act with the -precision of a physiologist who uses his scalpel on a patient laid upon -the operating table; but for the Bembex it is another matter. At the -least alarm the prey is off, and its power of wing defies that of the -pursuer. The Hymenopteron must pounce on its prey, without measuring -its attack or calculating its blow, like a hawk hunting over the -fallows. Mandibles, claws, sting—all weapons—must be used at the same -moment in the hot battle, to end as fast as possible a struggle in -which the least indecision would give the prey time to escape. If these -conjectures agree with facts, the Bembex can only secure a dead body, -or, at all events, a prey wounded to death. - -Well, my calculations are right. The Bembex attacks with an energy -which would do honour to a bird of prey. To surprise one on the chase -is no easy matter, and it would be useless to lay in a stock of -patience and watch near the burrow, for the insect flies to a distance, -and it is impossible to follow its rapid evolutions, and doubtless its -manœuvres would be still unknown to me but for the help of an article -from which I should assuredly never have expected a like -service—namely, the umbrella which served me as a tent amid the sands -of Issarts. - -I was not the only one to profit by its shade; my companions were -usually numerous. Gadflies of different kinds would take refuge under -the silken canopy, and roost peacefully here and there on the outspread -silk, rarely failing to appear when the heat was overpowering. To pass -the hours when I was unemployed, I used to observe with pleasure their -great gilded eyes shining like carbuncles under my canopy, or their -grave movements when some spot of their ceiling became too much heated, -and they were forced to move a little way. - -One day—ping! ping! the tense silk was resounding like the parchment of -a drum. Perhaps an acorn has fallen on my umbrella. Soon after, close -together, came ping! ping! Has some idle jester come to disturb my -solitude, and fling acorns or little pebbles on my umbrella? I came out -of my tent and inspected the neighbourhood. Nothing! The blow was -repeated. I looked upward, and the mystery was explained. The Bembecids -of the neighbourhood, which prey on gadflies, had found out the rich -store of food which was keeping me company, and were darting -audaciously under my shelter to seize the gadflies on the ceiling. -Nothing could have been better. I had only to keep quiet and observe. - -Every moment a Bembex entered like a sudden flash, and darted up to the -silken ceiling, which resounded with a dull thud. A tumult went on -aloft, in which one could not distinguish attacker from attacked, so -lively was the mêlée. The struggle was very brief; almost at once the -Hymenopteron retired with a captive between its feet. The dull band of -gadflies drew a little back all round on this sudden irruption, which -decimated them, but without leaving the treacherous shelter. It was so -hot outside; wherefore move? Plainly, such swift attack and prompt -departure with the prey does not allow the Bembex to use a poignard -according to rules. The sting no doubt fulfils its office, but is -directed with no precision towards such spots as are exposed by the -chances of the combat. To slay outright the half-murdered gadfly, still -struggling between the feet of its assassin, I have seen the Bembex -chew the head and thorax of her victim. This habit, peculiar to the -Bembecids, shows that the Bembex desires death, not paralysis, since -she ends the life of the Diptera with so little ceremony. Everything -considered, I think that on the one side the nature of the prey, so -quickly dried up, and on the other, the difficulties of so vehement an -attack, are the reasons why the Bembecids serve up dead prey to their -larvæ, and consequently provide it daily. - -Let us follow the Hymenopteron when it returns with its captive closely -clasped to the burrow. Here is one—B. tarsata—coming loaded with a -Bombylius. The nest is placed at the sandy foot of a vertical slope, -and the approach of the Bembex is announced by a sharp humming, -somewhat plaintive, and only ceasing when the insect has alighted. One -sees her hover above the bank, then descend, following the vertical -line slowly and cautiously, still emitting the sharp hum. If her keen -gaze should discover anything unusual, she delays her descent, hovers a -moment, ascends again, redescends, then flies away, swift as an arrow. -In a few moments she returns. Hovering at a certain height she appears -to inspect the locality, as if from the top of an observatory. The -vertical descent is resumed with most circumspect deliberation; -finally, she alights without hesitation at a spot which to my eye has -nothing to distinguish it from the rest of the sandy surface. The -plaintive note ceases at once. She must have alighted somewhat by -chance, since the most practised eye could not distinguish one spot -from another on the sandy tract. She will have dropped down somewhere -near her hole, whose entrance she will now seek, marked since her last -exit not only by the natural falling in of materials, but by her -scrupulous sweeping. No! she does not hesitate in the least—does not -feel about—does not seek. All have agreed that the organs fitted to -direct insects in their researches reside in the antennæ. At the moment -of returning to the nest I see nothing special in their play. Without -once losing hold of the prey the Bembex scratches a little in front of -her just where she alighted, pushes with her head, and straightway -enters clasping the Dipteron to her body. The sand falls in, the door -closes, and the Hymenopteron is at home. - -I have watched the Bembex return home a hundred times, yet it is always -with fresh astonishment that I see the keen-sighted insect at once -detect an entrance which nothing indicates, and which indeed is -jealously hidden—not indeed when she has entered (for the sand, more or -less fallen in, does not become level, and now leaves a slight -depression, now a porch incompletely obstructed), but always after she -comes out, for when going on an expedition she never neglects to efface -the traces of the sliding sand. Let us await her departure, and we -shall see that she sweeps before her door and levels everything -scrupulously. When she is gone, I defy the keenest eye to rediscover -the entrance. To find it when the sandy tract was of some extent I was -forced to have recourse to a kind of triangulation, and how often did -my triangle and efforts of memory prove vain after a few hours’ -absence! I was obliged to have recourse to a stake—in other words, a -grass stalk planted before the entrance—a means not always effectual, -for it often disappeared during the frequent settings to rights of the -outside of the Bembex’s nest. - - - - - - - - - -XVIII - -A PARASITE—THE COCOON - - -I have just described the Bembex hovering, loaded with her prey, above -the nest, and descending with a vertical flight—very slow, and -accompanied by a plaintive hum. This cautious, hesitating mode of -arrival might suggest that the insect was examining from above in order -to find her door, and trying to recall the locality before alighting. -But I shall show that there is another motive. In ordinary conditions, -when nothing alarms her, she comes suddenly, without hovering or -plaintive hum or hesitation, and alights at her threshold, or close by. -So faithful is her memory that she has no need to search about. Let us -find out the cause of the hesitating arrival just described. - -The insect hovers, descends slowly, mounts again, flies off and -returns, because serious danger threatens. That plaintive hum is a sign -of anxiety, and is never produced unless there is peril. But who is the -enemy? Is it I, sitting by and watching? Not in the least; I am quite -unimportant—a block unworthy of notice. The dreaded enemy—the foe who -must be avoided at any price—is on the ground, perfectly still upon the -sand, near the nest. It is a small Dipteron—nothing at all to look -at—of inoffensive aspect. This petty fly is the terror of the Bembex. -That bold assassin of Diptera, who so promptly twists the neck of -colossal gadflies, full fed on blood from an ox’s back, dares not enter -her home because she sees herself watched by another Dipteron—a mere -pigmy, which would scarce make one mouthful for her larva. - -Why not pounce on it and get rid of it? The Bembex flies fast enough to -overtake it, and, small as it is, the larvæ would not disdain it, since -they eat all and every Diptera. Yet the Bembex flies in terror before -an enemy which one bite would hew in pieces. I really feel as though I -saw a cat wild with terror before a mouse. The ardent pursuer of -Diptera is driven away by a Dipteron, and that one of the smallest! I -bow before the facts without any hope of ever comprehending this -reversal of parts. To be able to get rid easily of a mortal enemy, who -is meditating the ruin of your family, and who might make a feast for -them—to be able, I say, to do this, and not to do it when the foe is -there, within reach, watching you, defying you,—is the height of folly -in an animal. Folly, however, is not rightly the word: let us rather -talk of the harmony of creatures, for since this wretched little -Dipteron has its small part to play in the great whole of things, the -Bembex must needs respect it and basely flee before it,—otherwise long -ago there would have been no more Dipteron of this species in the -world. - -Let us trace the history of this parasite. Among Bembex nests there are -found, and that frequently, some which are occupied at the same time by -the larvæ of the Hymenoptera and by other larvæ—strangers to the family -and greedily sharing their food. These strangers are smaller than the -nursling of the Bembex—shaped like a tear, and of the colour of wine, -from the food paste which can be seen through their transparent bodies. -Their number varies from six to ten or more. They belong to a kind of -Dipteron, as may be perceived from their form and from the pupæ which -one afterwards finds in their place. The demonstration is completed by -bringing them up one’s self in a box, where, fed daily with flies, and -laid on sand, they turn into pupæ, whence issue the following year -little Diptera—Tachinids of the genus Miltogramma. - -This is the Dipteron which, when lying in wait near the burrow, awakens -such alarm in the Bembex. Her terror is only too well founded. This is -what happens in the dwelling. Around the heap of food which the mother -wears herself out in providing in sufficient quantity, sit in company -with the legitimate nursling from six to ten hungry guests, who put -their sharp mouths into the general heap as unceremoniously as if they -were at home. Concord seems to reign at table. I have never seen the -legitimate larva take offence at the indiscretion of the strangers, nor -observed these attempt to trouble its repast. All keep themselves -together, and eat peaceably without annoying their neighbours. - -So far all would be well, were it not that a grave difficulty arises. -However active may be the mother-nurse, it is clear that she cannot -meet such a consumption of food. She has to be incessantly on the wing -to feed one larva: what must happen if there are a dozen gluttons to -provide for? The result of this enormous increase of family can only be -want, or even famine, not for the larvæ of the Dipteron (which develop -more rapidly than that of the Bembex, profiting by the days when -abundance still reigns, their host being yet in early youth), but for -the latter, who reaches the moment of metamorphosis without being able -to make up for lost time. Besides, when the first guests become pupæ -and leave the table free to it, others come, as long as the mother -visits the nest, and complete its starvation. - -In burrows invaded by numerous parasites the Bembex larva is -undoubtedly much smaller than one would expect from the heap of food -consumed, the remains of which encumber the cell. Limp, emaciated,—only -half or a third of its proper size,—it vainly tries to spin a cocoon, -the silk for which it has not got, and it perishes in a corner of the -cell, amid the pupæ of guests more fortunate than itself. Or its end -may be yet more tragic. Should provender fail, or the mother delay too -long in returning with food, the Diptera devour it. I ascertained this -black deed by bringing up the brood myself. All went well as long as -food was plentiful, but if through neglect, or on purpose, the daily -supply failed, next day or the day after I was sure to find the Diptera -larvæ greedily rending that of the Bembex. Thus, when the nest is -invaded by parasites, the legitimate larva is fated to perish either by -hunger or a violent death, and this it is which makes the sight of -Miltogramma prowling round the nest so odious to the Bembex. - -The Bembex is not the only victim of these parasites: the burrows of -one and all of the mining Hymenoptera are invaded by Tachinids, -especially by the Miltogramma. Various observers—notably Lepeletier de -Saint Fargeau—have spoken of the manœuvres of these impudent Diptera; -but as far as I know none have perceived the very curious case of -parasitism at the expense of the Bembex—very curious, because the -conditions are quite different. Nests of other Fossors are stored -beforehand, and the Miltogramma drops an egg on the prey just as it is -being carried in. The provender stored and her egg laid, the -Hymenopteron closes up the cell where thenceforward live the legitimate -larva and the strangers, unvisited in their prison. Thus, the robbery -committed by the parasite is unknown to the mother, and must -consequently remain unpunished. - -With the Bembex it is quite otherwise. The mother constantly returns -during the fortnight that she is bringing up the larva; she knows that -her offspring is living among numerous intruders, who appropriate the -greater part of the food; every time that she brings provender she -touches and feels at the bottom of her den these detestable guests, -who, far from contenting themselves with remains, seize what is best. -She must perceive, however small her powers of arithmetic may be, that -twelve are more than one; besides, she would discover this from the -disproportion between the consumption of food and her means of hunting, -and yet, instead of seizing these bold intruders and bundling them out, -she serenely tolerates them. Tolerates! Why, she feeds them and brings -them their rations, and perhaps feels as much tenderness for them as -for her own larva. It is a new version of the cuckoo story in yet more -singular circumstances. The theory that the cuckoo, almost as big as a -sparrowhawk and coloured like it, should look imposing enough to -introduce an egg unresisted into the nest of the weak hedge-sparrow, -and that the latter, overawed perhaps by the alarming look of her -toad-faced nursling, should accept and care for the stranger, has -something in its favour. But what shall we say of a sparrow which, -turning parasite, should go with splendid audacity and intrust her eggs -to the eyrie of a bird of prey—the nest of the sparrowhawk itself—the -sanguinary devourer of sparrows? What should we say of the bird of prey -who should accept the charge and bring up the brood tenderly? It is -precisely thus that the Bembex acts,—she, a captor of Diptera who yet -brings up other Diptera—a huntress who distributes food to a prey whose -last repast will be her own disembowelled offspring! I leave to -cleverer people the task of explaining these amazing relations. - -Let us observe the tactics employed by the Tachinid, whose object is to -confide her egg to the nest of the miner. It is an invariable rule that -the fly should never penetrate into the burrow, even if left open and -the owner absent. The crafty parasite would take good care not to -entangle itself in a passage, where, having no possibility of flight, -it might pay dearly for its effrontery. The only moment for its -designs—a moment watched for with the greatest patience—is that when -the Hymenopteron enters the gallery, clasping her prey. At that -instant, brief as it is, when the Bembex or any other miner has half -her body within the entrance, and is about to disappear underground, -the Miltogramma arrives on the wing, perches on the prey slightly, -projecting beyond the hinder end of the Bembex, and while she is -delayed by the difficulties of entering, the Miltogramma, with -unparalleled promptitude, lays an egg on the prey, or two, or even -three eggs, successively. The hesitation of the Bembex, embarrassed by -her load, lasts but the twinkling of an eye; but that matters not—it is -long enough for the fly to accomplish its misdeed without being dragged -beyond the threshold. What must not be the suppleness of organs to -achieve this instantaneous laying of the egg! The Bembex disappears, -herself introducing the enemy, and the Tachinid goes and crouches in -the sun, close to the burrow, and meditates fresh crimes. If one would -make sure that the Dipteron’s eggs have really been deposited during -this rapid manœuvre, it suffices to open the burrow and follow the -Bembex to the bottom of her abode. The prey which one takes from her -bears underneath at least one egg—sometimes more, according to the -length of the delay at the entrance. These very minute eggs could only -belong to a parasite, and if any doubt remained, you can bring up the -brood in a box, and the result will be Diptera larvæ—later pupæ, and -finally Miltogramma. - -The fly shows wonderful sagacity in the moment selected by it—the only -one which could permit of her carrying out her purpose with neither -peril nor vain efforts. The Bembex, half-way through the entrance, -cannot see her enemy audaciously perched on the hind quarters of the -prey, or, if she suspects the bandit’s presence, cannot drive it away, -having no freedom of movement in the strait passage, and in spite of -all precautions to facilitate speedy entrance, cannot always vanish -underground with the celerity required, so quick is the parasite. In -fact, this is the only propitious moment, since prudence forbids the -Dipteron to penetrate into the den, where other Diptera, far stronger -than itself, are served up as food for the larvæ. Outside, in the open -air, the difficulty is insurmountable, so great is the vigilance of the -Bembex. Let us give a moment to the arrival of the mother, when the -nest is being watched by the Miltogramma. - -Some of these flies—more or fewer, generally three or four—have settled -on the sand and are quite motionless, all gazing at the burrow, the -entrance of which they know very well, carefully hid though it be. -Their dull-brown colour, their large crimson-red eyes, their intense -stillness, have often made me think of bandits who, dressed in a dark -material, with a red kerchief over their heads, are lying in wait to do -some evil deed. The Hymenopteron comes, loaded with prey. Had she no -anxieties she would alight straightway at her door. Instead, she hovers -at a certain height, descends slowly and circumspectly, hesitates, and -vibrates her wings, producing a plaintive hum denoting apprehension. -She must have seen the malefactors. They too have seen the Bembex. The -movement of their red heads shows that they are following her with -their eyes; every gaze is fixed on the coveted booty. Then come marches -and counter-marches of cunning versus prudence. - -The Bembex drops straight down with an imperceptible flight, as if she -let herself sink gently, making a parachute of her wings. Now she is -hovering just above the ground; the flies take wing, placing themselves -one and all behind her,—some nearer, some farther,—in a geometrical -line. If she turns round to disconcert them, they turn too, with a -precision which keeps them all in the same straight line; if she -advances, so do they; if she draws back, they draw back too, measuring -their flight, now slow, now stationary, on that of the Bembex at the -head of the file. They do not attempt to fling themselves on the -desired object, their tactics being merely to hold themselves in -readiness in the position of rearguard, so as to avoid any hesitation -when the rapid final manœuvre shall come. - -Sometimes, wearied out by their obstinate pursuit, the Bembex alights, -and the flies instantly settle on the sand, still behind her, and keep -quite still. She rises again, with a sharper hum—the sign no doubt of -increasing indignation; the flies follow her. One last means remains to -throw the tenacious Diptera off the track; the Bembex flies far -away—perhaps hoping to mislead the parasites by rapid evolutions over -the fields. But the crafty flies are not taken in; they let her go, and -settle down again on the sand round the burrow. When the Bembex returns -the same manœuvres begin again until the obstinacy of the parasites has -exhausted her prudence. At a moment when her vigilance fails, the flies -are instantly there. Whichever is at the most favourable point drops -upon the vanishing prey, and the thing is done—the egg is laid. - -There is ample evidence that the Bembex is conscious of danger, and -knows how disastrous for the future of her nest is the presence of the -hated fly; her long efforts to throw the parasites off her track, her -hesitation and flights, leave not a doubt on the subject. How is it -then, I ask myself once more, that the enemy of Diptera should allow -herself to be annoyed by another Dipteron—a tiny robber, incapable of -the least resistance, which, if she chose, she could destroy instantly? -Why, when once free from the prey which hampers her, does she not -pounce on these ill-doers? What is needed to exterminate the evil brood -around her burrow? Merely a battle which would take but a few instants. -But the harmony of those laws which govern the preservation of species -will not have it so, and the Bembex will always allow herself to be -harassed without ever learning from the famous “struggle for life” the -radical means of extermination. I have seen some which, pressed too -closely, let fall their prey and flew off wildly, but without any -hostile demonstration, although dropping their game left them full -liberty of action. The prey, so ardently desired a moment earlier by -the Tachinidæ, lay on the ground at the mercy of them all, and not one -cared about it. It had no value for the flies, whose larvæ need the -shelter of a burrow. It was valueless also to the Bembex, who came -back, felt it for an instant and left it disdainfully. The little break -in her custody of it had rendered her suspicious of it. - -Let us end this chapter by the history of the larva. Its monotonous -life offers nothing remarkable during the two weeks while it eats and -grows. Then comes making a cocoon. The slight development of -silk-producing organs does not allow of a dwelling of pure silk, like -those of the Ammophila and Sphegidæ—made of several wrappers which -protect the larva, and later the nymph, from damp in the ill-protected, -shallow burrow during autumn rains and winter snows. Yet this Bembex -burrow is in worse conditions than those of the Sphex, being made at a -depth of only a few inches in very permeable soil. To fashion a -sufficient shelter the larva supplements by its industry the small -amount of silk at its disposal. With grains of sand artistically put -together and connected by silky matter, it constructs a most solid -cocoon—impenetrable to damp. - -Three general methods are employed by fossorial Hymenoptera to -construct the dwelling in which metamorphosis is to take place. Some -hollow burrows at a great depth under a shelter, and then the cocoon -consists of a single wrapper, so thin as to be transparent. Such is the -case with Philanthidæ and Cerceris. Others are content with a shallow -burrow in open ground; but in that case they have silk enough for -manifold wrappings of the cocoon, as with Sphegidæ, Ammophila, and -Scolia; or if the quantity be insufficient, they use agglutinated -sand—as, for instance, the Bembex and Palarus. One might take a Bembex -cocoon for a solid kernel, so compact and resistant is it. The form is -cylindrical—one end rounded, the other pointed. The length is about two -centimetres. Outside it is slightly wrinkled and coarse, but within the -walls are smoothed by a fine varnish. - -Rearing at home has enabled me to follow every detail of the -construction of this curious piece of architecture—a real strong box -which can brave all the severity of the weather. First of all the larva -pushes away the remains of its feast into a corner of the cell, or the -compartment arranged for it in a box with paper partitions. Having -cleared a space, it affixes to the walls of its abode threads of a -beautiful white silk, forming a spidery web which keeps the heap of -food-remains at a distance, and serves as scaffolding for the work to -come. - -This work consists of a hammock, suspended far from anything that can -defile it, in the centre of threads stretched from wall to wall. Fine, -beautiful white silk is the only material used. The shape is that of a -sack open at one end, with a wide circular orifice, closed at the other -and ending in a point; a fisherman’s basket gives a very fair idea of -it. Then the edges of the aperture are permanently kept apart by -numerous threads fastened to the neighbouring walls. The tissue of the -bag is extremely fine, allowing all that the grub does to be seen. - -Things had been in this state since the previous evening, when I heard -the larva scratching in the box. On opening, I found my captive busy -scratching the cardboard walls with the tips of its mandibles, its body -half out of the bag. Already it had made considerable progress, and a -heap of little fragments were piled before the opening of the hammock, -to be utilised later. For lack of other materials it would doubtless -have used these scrapings for its constructions, but I thought it -better to provide according to its tastes and give it sand. Never did -Bembex larva build with such sumptuous material. I poured out for my -prisoner sand for drying writing,—sand well sprinkled with gilded -grains of mica,—before the opening of the bag, which was in a -horizontal position, suitable to the work which would follow. The -larva, half out of its hammock, chose its sand almost grain by grain, -routing in the heap with its mandibles, and, if one too bulky presented -itself, it was seized and cast aside. The sand being sorted, the larva -introduced a certain quantity with its mouth into the silken fabric, -then retired into its sack and began spreading the materials in a -uniform layer on the inner surface, then glued together various grains -and inlaid them in the fabric, with silk for cement. The outer surface -was constructed more slowly. These grains were carried singly and fixed -on with silk gum. - -This first deposit of sand only concerns the anterior part of the -cocoon—that half which ends in the opening. Before turning round to -work at the back part, the larva renews its store of materials and -takes certain precautions, so as not to be embarrassed in its masonry. -The sand heaped before the entrance might slip inside and hinder the -builder in so narrow a space. The grub foresees this, and glues some -grains together, making a coarse curtain of sand, which stops up the -orifice, imperfectly indeed, but enough for the purpose. These -precautions taken, the grub labours at the back part of the cocoon. -From time to time it turns round to get fresh materials from outside, -tearing away a corner of the protecting curtain, and through this -window grasping the materials needed. The cocoon is still -incomplete—wide open at the upper end and without the spherical cap -needed to close it. For this final bit of work the grub provides itself -abundantly with sand, and then pushes away the heap before the -entrance. A silken cap is now woven and fitted close to the mouth of -this primitive basket. On this silken foundation are deposited, one by -one, the sand grains kept in the interior and cemented with -silk-spittle. This lid completed, the larva has only to give the last -finish to the interior of the dwelling and glaze the walls with -varnish, to protect its tender skin from the roughness of the sand. - -The hammock of pure silk and the cap which later closes it are -evidently only scaffolding intended to support the masonry of sand and -to give it a regular curve. One might compare them to the constructions -used by builders when making an arch or vault. The work being -completed, the silken support disappears, partly lost in the masonry, -and partly destroyed by contact with rough earth, and no trace remains -of the ingenious method employed to put together a construction -perfectly regular, yet made of a material so little coherent as is -sand. The spherical cap which closes the original basket is a separate -work, adjusted to the main body of the cocoon. However well the two -pieces are fitted and soldered, the solidity is not such as the larva -would obtain had it built the whole dwelling continuously. Thus, on the -circumference of the cover there is a circular line less capable of -resistance, but this is not a fault of construction. On the contrary it -is a fresh perfection. The insect would experience grave difficulty in -issuing from its strong box, so thick are the walls, did not the line -of junction, weaker than the rest, apparently save much effort, as it -is usually along this line that the cover is detached when the perfect -Bembex emerges. - -I have called the cocoon a strong box. It is indeed a solid article, -both from its shape and the nature of its materials. Landslips or -falling sand cannot alter its form, since the strongest pressure of -one’s fingers cannot always crush it. Thus it matters little to the -larva if the ceiling of its burrow, dug in loose soil, should sooner or -later fall in, and it need not fear, even should a passing foot press -down the thin covering of sand; it runs no risks when once enclosed in -its stout shelter. Nor does damp endanger it. I have immersed Bembex -cocoons for a fortnight in water without finding any trace of damp -inside them. Ah! why cannot we have such waterproof for our dwellings? -To sum up: the cocoon, of graceful oval shape, appears rather the -product of patient art than the work of a grub. For any one not behind -the scenes, the cocoons which I saw in process of construction with the -sand from my inkstand might well have been precious articles of some -unknown industry—great beads starred with golden dots on a ground of -lapis lazuli, destined for the necklace of some Polynesian belle. - - - - - - - - - -XIX - -THE RETURN TO THE NEST - - -The Ammophila digging her well late in the day leaves her work after -stopping the entrance with a stone, flits away from one flower to -another, goes into a new neighbourhood, and yet next day can return -with a caterpillar to the abode hollowed out the evening before, -notwithstanding her want of acquaintance with the locality—often new to -her; the Bembex, loaded with prey, alights with almost mathematical -precision on the threshold of a dwelling blocked by sand and rendered -uniform with the rest of the sandy surface. Where my sight and memory -are at fault, theirs have a certainty verging on infallibility. One -would say that the insect possessed something more subtle than mere -recollection—a kind of intuition of locality with which nothing in us -corresponds—in short, an indefinable faculty which I call memory for -lack of any other expression by which to designate it. The unknown -cannot be named. In order to throw if possible a little light on this -point in the psychology of animals I instituted a series of -experiments, which I will now describe. - -The first had for its subject Cerceris tuberculata, which hunts the -Cleonus. About 10 a.m. I took a dozen females busy at the same bank and -of the same colony, either hollowing or storing burrows. Each was -enclosed in a twist of paper, and all were put into a box. About two -kilometres from the nests I freed my captives, first marking them with -a white dot in the middle of the thorax by means of a straw dipped in -an indelible colour, in order to recognise them later. They flew on -every side—some here, some there, but only a few paces, alighting on -blades of grass and passing their forelegs over their eyes for a -moment, as if dazzled by the bright sunshine to which they were -suddenly restored. Then they took flight—some earlier, some later; and -one and all took unhesitatingly a straight line south, i.e. in the -direction of their home. Five hours later I returned to the common -territory of the nests. Almost directly I saw two of my white-dotted -Cerceris working at their burrows. Soon a third came in, with a weevil -between her feet. A fourth soon followed—four out of twelve in a -quarter of an hour was enough for conviction; I judged it useless to -wait longer; what four could do, the others could, if indeed they had -not already done it, and one may very well suppose that the eight -absentees were out hunting, or perhaps had retired into the depths of -their burrows. Thus, carried to a distance of two kilometres, in a -direction and by a way which they could not possibly perceive from the -depths of their paper prison, the Cerceris—at all events part of -them—had returned home. - -I do not know to what distance they go hunting; possibly they know the -country round for some two kilometres. In that case they would not have -been far enough away, and came home by their local knowledge. The -experiment had to be tried again at a greater distance, and from a -point which the Cerceris could not possibly know. - -I therefore took nine females from the colony whence I had got them in -the morning; three of these had been already experimented upon. Again -they were conveyed in a dark box—each imprisoned in a paper twist. The -starting-place was to be the neighbouring town of Carpentras, about -three kilometres from the burrows. I meant to release them not amid -fields as before, but in a street in the midst of a populous quarter, -where the Cerceris, with their rustic habits, had assuredly never -penetrated. As the hour was late I put off the experiment, and my -captives spent the night in their prison cells. - -The next morning, towards eight o’clock, I marked them with a double -white spot on the thorax to distinguish them from those of the evening -before, which had only one, and set them free successively in the -middle of the street. Each mounted vertically, as if to get as soon as -possible from between the houses and gain a wide horizon, then rising -above the roofs, instantly and energetically turned its flight south. -And it was from the south that I brought them into the town, and their -burrows are south. Nine times with my nine prisoners did I obtain this -striking result—that an insect quite beyond its bearings should not -hesitate a moment what direction to take to regain its nest. - -Some hours later I too was at the burrows. I saw several of my -yesterday’s Cerceris with a white dot, but none of the last set free. -Had they been unable to find the way back? Were they out hunting, or in -their galleries recovering from the excitement of such a trial? I do -not know. The next morning I came again, and had the satisfaction of -finding at work, as active as if nothing extraordinary had happened to -them, five Cerceris with two white dots. Three kilometres of -distance,—the town with its houses, roofs, and smoky chimneys—all so -novel to my rustic Cerceris,—had proved no obstacle to their return -home. - -Taken from its brood and carried an enormous distance, the pigeon -returns promptly to its dovecote. If one were to consider the length of -journey in proportion to the size of the animal, how superior to the -pigeon is the Cerceris carried away three kilometres and returning to -its burrow! The size of the insect does not equal a cubic centimetre, -while that of the pigeon must quite equal the cube of a decimetre, if -it does not exceed it. The bird, a thousand times larger than the -Hymenopteron, ought, in order to rival it, to find its dovecote at a -distance of 3000 kilometres—thrice the greatest length of France from -north to south. I do not know if a carrier-pigeon has ever shown such -prowess, but wing-power and yet more lucidity of instinct cannot be -measured by yards. Nor can we here consider the question of size, and -one can only see in the insect a worthy rival to the bird without -deciding which has the advantage. - -Are the two guided by memory when placed by man beyond their bearings -and carried to great distances—into regions with which they are -unacquainted and in unknown directions? Is memory as quick when, having -reached a certain height at which they can in some sort take their -bearings, they launch themselves with all their power of wing towards -that part of the horizon where are their nests? Is it memory which -traces their aerial way across regions seen for the first time? -Evidently not. It is not possible to recollect the unknown. The -Hymenopteron and the bird know nothing of their surroundings; nothing -can have taught them the general direction which they followed when -carried thither, for it was in the darkness of a closed box that the -journey was made. Locality, orientation,—all is unknown, and yet they -find their way. They have then as guide something better than simple -memory—a special faculty, a kind of topographic consciousness of which -we can form no idea, possessing nothing analogous to it. - -I am now about to establish experimentally how subtle and precise is -this faculty in the narrow cycle where it is applied, and also how -limited and obtuse when it has to move out of habitual conditions. Such -is the invariable antithesis of instinct. - -A Bembex, actively engaged in feeding her larva, has left her burrow. -She will return immediately with the product of the chase. The entrance -is carefully stopped with sand—swept backward by the insect before -departing. Nothing distinguishes it from the rest of the sandy surface. -But this offers no difficulty to the Hymenopteron, who finds her -doorway again with a sagacity which I have already described. Let us -plan some treachery; let us perplex her by altering the state of the -place. I cover the entrance with a flat stone as large as my hand. She -soon returns. The complete change made upon her threshold during her -absence does not seem to cause her the slightest hesitation; at all -events she alights immediately upon the stone, and tries for an instant -to hollow it, not at a chance spot, but exactly over the opening of her -burrow. Quickly turned aside from this attempt by the hardness of the -obstacle, she traverses the stone in every direction, goes round it, -slips underneath, and begins to dig in the precise direction of her -dwelling. - -The flat stone is too trifling an obstacle to disconcert the clever -fly; let us find something better. I did not allow the Bembex to -continue her excavation, which I saw would soon prove successful, and -drove her far off with my handkerchief. The absence of the frightened -insect for a considerable time allowed me to prepare my snares -leisurely. What materials must now be employed? In these improvised -experiments one must know how to turn all things to profit. Not far off -on the high road is the fresh dropping of a beast of burden; here is -wood for our arrow. The dropping was collected, crushed, and spread in -a layer at least an inch thick on the threshold of the burrow and its -surroundings over more than a quarter of a yard. Assuredly here was -such a façade as never Bembex knew. Colour, the nature of the material, -the effluvium,—all combined to deceive the Hymenopteron. Can she take -this stretch of manure—this dung—for the front of the dwelling? She -does! Here she comes; studying from above the unusual condition of the -place, and settling in the middle of the layer, just opposite the -entrance, routing about, making a way through the fibrous mass, and -penetrating to the sand, she promptly discovers the mouth of the -passage. I stop and drive her away a second time. - -Is not the precision with which the Bembex settles before her dwelling, -though masked in a way so novel, a proof that sight and memory are not -in such a case the only guides? What further can there be? Smell, -perhaps. That is very doubtful, for the emanations from the dung could -not baffle the perspicacity of the insect. Nevertheless, let us try -another odour. I happen to have with me, as part of my entomological -outfit, a little phial of ether. The covering of manure is swept off -and replaced by a cushion of moss, not very thick, but covering a wide -surface, on which I pour the contents of my phial the moment I see the -Bembex coming. The over-strong emanations keep her off, but only for an -instant. She alights on the moss, still reeking of ether, traverses the -obstacle and penetrates to her dwelling. The etherised effluvia did not -disturb her any more than did those of the manure; something surer than -smell tells where her nest is. - -The antennæ have been often suggested as the seat of a special sense to -guide insects. I have already shown how the suppression of these organs -appears to offer no obstacle to the researches of the Hymenoptera. Let -us try once more in wider conditions. The Bembex is caught, its antennæ -amputated to the roots, and is then released. Stung by the pain—wild -with terror at being held between my fingers—the insect flies off -swifter than an arrow. I had to wait a whole hour, uncertain as to its -return. However, it came, and with its invariable precision alighted -quite close to its doorway, whose look I had changed for the fourth -time, having covered the site with a large mosaic of pebbles the size -of a nut. My work, which, compared to the Bembex, surpassed what for us -are the Megalithic monuments of Brittany, or the lines of Menhirs at -Carnac, was powerless to deceive the mutilated insect. Though deprived -of antennæ it found the entrance in the midst of my mosaic as easily as -would have done an insect under other conditions. This time I let the -faithful mother go home in peace. - -The site transformed four times over, the outworks of the abode changed -in colour, scent, and material, the pain of a double wound,—all failed -to disconcert the Hymenopteron or even to make her doubtful as to the -precise locality of her doorway. I had exhausted my stratagems, and -understood less than ever how the insect, if it have no special guide -in some faculty unknown to us, can find its way when sight and smell -are baffled by the artifices of which I have spoken. Some days later an -experience gave me the opportunity to take up the problem from a new -point of view. The Bembex burrow had to be bared in its whole extent, -without quite destroying it, to which operation its shallowness and -almost horizontal direction, and the light soil in which it was made, -lent themselves readily. The sand was gradually scraped off with the -blade of a knife, and thus, deprived of roof from end to end, the -underground abode became a semi-canal or conduit, straight or curved, -some eight inches long, open where was the entrance, and ending in a -cul-de-sac where lay the larva amid its food. - -The dwelling was uncovered in full sunshine; how would the mother -behave on her return? Let us consider the question scientifically. The -observer may be greatly embarrassed: what I have already seen leads me -to expect it. The mother’s impulse is to bring food to her larva, but -to reach this larva she must first find the door. Grub and entrance are -the points which appear to deserve being separately examined; therefore -I take away grub and food, and the end of the passage is cleared. There -is nothing more to do but arm one’s self with patience. - -At last the Bembex arrives and makes straight for her absent door, only -the threshold of which remains. There for a good hour did I see her -dig, sweep the surface, send the sand flying, and persist, not in -making a new gallery, but in seeking the loose sand barrier which -should yield to the mere pressure of her head and let her pass easily. -Instead of loose materials she finds firm soil not yet disturbed. -Warned by this resistance she limits her efforts to exploring the -surface, always close to where the door should be, only allowing -herself to deviate a few inches. She returns to sound and sweep places -already sounded and swept some twenty times, unable to leave her narrow -circle, so obstinately convinced is she that the door must be there and -nowhere else. With a straw I pushed her gently and repeatedly to -another point. She would have none of it, and came back at once to -where the door ought to have been. Now and then the gallery, turned -into a semi-canal, appeared to attract her attention, but very faintly. -She would go a few steps along it, still raking, and then return to the -entrance. Two or three times I saw her go the whole length of the -gallery and reach the cul-de-sac where the larva should be, do a little -careless raking, and hurry back where the entrance used to be, and -continue searching with a patience which exhausted mine. More than an -hour had passed, and still she sought on the site whence the door had -disappeared. - -What would happen in the presence of the larva? That was the second -part of the question. To continue the experiment with the same Bembex -would not have offered sufficient guarantee, as the creature, rendered -more obstinate by her vain search, seemed possessed by a fixed idea, -and this would have interfered with the facts which I wanted to prove. -I required a new subject, concerned solely with the impulses of the -actual moment. An opportunity soon came. The burrow was uncovered, as I -have just said; but I did not touch the contents; larva and food were -left in their places,—all was in order inside, the roof only was -wanting. Well, with this open dwelling, whose every detail the eye -could embrace,—vestibule, gallery, cell at the far end, with the grub -and its heap of provender,—this dwelling turned into a roofless gallery -at the end of which the larva was moving restlessly, under the hot sun, -its mother continued the manœuvres already described. She alighted just -where the entrance had been, and there it was that she hunted about and -swept the sand—there that she always returned after some hasty attempt -elsewhere in a circuit of a few inches. No exploration of the -gallery—no anxiety for the distressed larva; though the grub, whose -delicate skin has just exchanged the gentle moisture of a cave for -burning sunshine, is writhing on its heap of chewed Diptera, the mother -takes no notice of it. For her it is no more than any one of the -objects strewn on the sand,—a little pebble, a clod, a scrap of dried -mud,—nothing more. It is undeserving of attention. This tender, -faithful mother, who wears herself out in efforts to reach her -nursling’s cradle, cares nothing just now but for her entrance door—the -door she is used to. That which goes to her maternal heart is the -longing to find the well-known passage. Yet the way is open; nothing -holds her back, and under her eyes wriggles the grub, the final object -of her anxiety. With one spring she would be at the side of the unhappy -larva who so needs help. Why does she not rush to her beloved nursling? -She could dig a new habitation and get it swiftly underground. But -no—she persists in seeking a way which no longer exists, while her son -is grilled under her eyes. I was boundlessly surprised by this obtuse -maternity, since maternity is the most powerful and most fertile in -resource of all feelings which move the animal. Hardly could I have -believed my eyes but for endless experiments on the Cerceris and -Philanthidæ, as well as on Bembecidæ of different species. Stranger -still, the mother, after long hesitation, at length entered the -unroofed passage—all that was left of the corridor. She advanced, drew -back, and gave a few careless sweeps without stopping. Guided by vague -recollections, and perhaps by the smell of venison exhaled from the -heap of Diptera, she came occasionally as far as the end of the -gallery, the very spot where lay the larva. Mother and son had met. At -this moment of reunion after long anxiety, were there earnest -solicitude, sign of tenderness, or of maternal joy? Whoever thinks so -has only to repeat my experiment to convince himself of the contrary. -The Bembex did not recognise her larva at all; it was a worthless -thing, in her way,—nothing but an embarrassment. She walked over it and -trampled it unheeding, as she hurried backwards and forwards. If she -wanted to dig at the bottom of the cell, she rudely kicked it behind -her,—pushed, upset, expelled it, as she might have treated a large bit -of gravel which got in her way while at work. Thus maltreated, the -larva bethought itself of defence. I have seen it seize her by one -tarsus with no more ceremony than she would have shown in biting the -foot of a Dipteron caught by her. The struggle was sharp, but at last -the fierce mandibles let go, and the mother flew wildly away with her -sharpest hum. This unnatural scene of the son biting the mother, and -perhaps even trying to eat her, is unusual, and brought about by -circumstances which the observer is not always able to conjure up. What -one can always witness is the profound indifference of the Hymenopteron -for its offspring, and the brutal disdain with which that inconvenient -heap, the grub, is treated. Once she has raked out the far end of the -passage, which is done in a moment, the Bembex returns to her favourite -point, the threshold, to resume her useless researches. As for the -grub, it continues to struggle and wriggle wherever the maternal kicks -may have landed it. It will perish unaided by its mother, who could not -recognise it because she was unable to find the passage she was used -to. If we return to-morrow, we shall find it in the gallery, -half-broiled by the sun, and already a prey to the flies—once its own -prey. - -Such is the connection in acts of instinct; one leading to the next in -an order that the most serious circumstances have no power to alter. -After all, what was the Bembex seeking? Her larva, evidently. But to -reach this larva she had to enter the burrow, and to enter the burrow -she had to find the door, and the mother persists in seeking this door -while the gallery lay open with provender and larva all before her. The -ruined abode, the endangered family, were for the moment unimportant; -all she could think of was the familiar passage reached through loose -sand. Let all go—habitation and inhabitant—if this passage be not -found! Her actions are like a series of echoes, awaking one another in -a fixed order, the following one only sounding when the preceding has -sounded. Not because there was any obstacle; the burrow was all open, -but for want of the usual entrance the first action could not take -place. That decides everything; the first echo is mute, and so all the -rest are silent. What a gulf between intelligence and instinct! Through -the ruins of the shattered dwelling a mother guided by intelligence -rushes straight to her son; guided by instinct she stops obstinately -where once was the door. - - - - - - - - - -XX - -MASON BEES - - -Réaumur has dedicated one of his studies to the Chalicodoma of walls, -which he calls the Mason Bee. I propose to resume this study, to -complete it, and especially to consider it from a point of view -entirely neglected by that illustrious observer. And first of all I am -tempted to state how I made acquaintance with this Hymenopteron. It was -when I first began to teach—towards A.D. 1843. On leaving the Normal -School of Vaucluse a few months previously, with my certificate, and -the naïve enthusiasm of eighteen, I was sent to Carpentras to manage -the primary school belonging to the college. A singular school it was, -upon my word, notwithstanding its fine title of “Upper”!—a kind of vast -cellar breathing out the damp engendered by a fountain backing on it in -the street. Light came in through a door opening outward when the -weather allowed of it, and a narrow prison-window, with iron-bars, and -little diamond panes set in lead. For seats there was a plank fastened -to the walls all round the room; in the middle was a chair guiltless of -straw, a blackboard, and a bit of chalk. - -Morning and evening, at the sound of a bell, there tumbled in some -fifty young rascals, who, having failed to master De viris and the -Epitome, were devoting themselves, as one said then, to “some good -years of French.” The failures at “Rosa, a Rose,” came to me to learn a -little spelling. Children were mingled with tall lads at various stages -of education, and all distressingly agreed in playing tricks on the -master—no older, even younger, than some of themselves. - -I taught the little ones to read syllables, the middle ones to hold a -pen in the right way while writing a few words of dictation on their -knees; for the eldest I unveiled the secrets of fractions, and even the -mysteries of the hypotenuse. And the only means I had to keep this -restless crowd in order, give each mind appropriate food, arouse -attention, expel dulness from the gloomy room whose very walls dripped -melancholy, were my tongue and a bit of chalk. - -For that matter there was equal disdain in the other classes for all -which was not Latin or Greek. One instance will suffice to show the -style in which physical science was treated, now so large a part of -education. The principal of this college was an excellent man—the -worthy Abbé X, who, not anxious himself to grow green peas and bacon, -turned over such matters to some relation of his, and undertook to -teach physical science. - -Let us attend one of his lessons, which happens to be on the barometer. -By good luck the college owned one. It was an old article, very dusty, -hung high out of reach of profane hands, and bearing on its face in -large letters the words, Storm, Rain, Fine. “The barometer,” began the -good abbé, addressing himself to his disciples—he used a fatherly -second person singular to each,—“the barometer gives notice of good or -bad weather. Thou seest the words written here—Storm, Rain—thou seest, -Bastien?” “I see,” replies Bastien, the most mischievous of the troop. -He has run through his book, and knows more about the barometer than -does his professor. “It is composed,” the abbé goes on, “of a curved -glass tube full of mercury which rises and falls according to the -weather. The small branch of this tube is open; the other—the other—we -shall see as to the other. Bastien—Get on this chair, and just feel -with the tip of thy finger if the long branch is open or closed. I do -not quite remember.” Bastien goes to the chair, stands as high as he -can on tip-toe, and feels the top of the long column with a finger tip. -Then, with a slight smile under the down of his dawning moustache, he -replies, “Yes, exactly; yes, the long branch is open at the top. I can -feel the hollow.” And to corroborate his mendacious statement he went -on moving his forefinger on the top of the tube, while his -co-disciples, accomplices in mischief, stifled their laughter as best -they could. The abbé said calmly, “That will do. Come down, Bastien. -Gentlemen, write in your notes that the long branch of the barometer is -open. You might forget it. I had forgotten it myself.” - -Thus were physics taught. Things mended, however; a master came, and -came to stay,—one who knew that the long branch of a barometer is -closed. I obtained tables on which my pupils could write instead of -scrawling on their knees, and as my class grew daily larger, it ended -by being divided. As soon as I had an assistant to look after the -younger ones, things changed for the better. - -Among the subjects taught, one pleased master and pupils equally. This -was out-of-door geometry, practical surveying. The college had none of -the necessary outfit, but with my large emoluments—700 francs, if you -please!—I could not hesitate as to making the outlay. A measuring chain -and stakes, a level, square, and compass were bought at my expense. A -tiny graphometer, hardly bigger than one’s palm, and worth about 4s. -2d., was furnished by the college. We had no tripod, and I had one -made. In short, my outfit was complete. When May came, once a week the -gloomy class-room was exchanged for the fields, and we all felt it as a -holiday. There were disputes as to the honour of carrying the stakes, -divided into packets of three, and more than one shoulder as we went -through the town felt glorified in the sight of all by the learned -burden. I myself—why conceal it?—was not without a certain satisfaction -at carrying tenderly the most precious part of the apparatus, the -famous four-and-twopenny graphometer. The scene of operations was an -uncultivated pebbly plain—a harmas, as we call it in these parts. No -curtain of live hedge, no bushes, hindered me from keeping an eye upon -my followers; here—an all important condition—I need not fear -temptation from green apricots for my scholars. There was free scope -for all imaginable polygons; trapezes and triangles might be joined at -will. Wide distances suggested plenty of elbow room, and there was even -an ancient building, once a dovecote, which lent its vertical lines to -the service of the graphometer. - -Now from the very first a suspicious something caught my attention. If -a scholar were sent to plant a distant stake I saw him frequently -pause, stoop, rise, seek about, and stoop again, forgetful of straight -line and of signals. Another, whose work it was to pick up pegs, forgot -the iron spike and took a pebble instead; and a third, deaf to the -measurements of the angle, crumbled up a clod. The greater number were -caught licking a bit of straw, and polygons stood still, and diagonals -came to grief. What could be the mystery? I inquired, and all was -explained. Searcher and observer born, the scholar was well aware of -what the master was ignorant of—namely, that a great black bee makes -earthen nests on the pebbles of the harmas, and that in these nests -there is honey. My surveyors were opening and emptying the cells with a -straw. I was instructed in the proper method. The honey, though -somewhat strong-flavoured, is very acceptable; I in turn acquired a -taste for it, and joined the nest-hunters. Later, the polygon was -resumed. Thus it was that for the first time I saw Réaumur’s Mason Bee, -knowing neither its history nor its historian. - -This splendid Hymenopteron, with its dark violet wings and costume of -black velvet, its rustic constructions on the sun-warmed pebbles among -the thyme, its honey, which brought diversion from the severities of -compass and square, made a strong impression on my mind, and I wished -to know more about it than my pupils had taught me—namely, how to rob -the cells of their honey with a straw. Just then my bookseller had for -sale a magnificent work on insects, The Natural History of Articulated -Animals, by de Castelnau, E. Blanchard, and Lucas. It was enriched with -many engravings which caught the eye. But alas, it had a price—such a -price! What did that matter? My 700 francs ought surely to suffice for -everything—food for the mind as well as for the body. That which I -bestowed on the one I retrenched from the other—a balance of accounts -to which whoever takes science for a livelihood must needs resign -himself. The purchase was made. That day I bled my university stipend -abundantly; I paid away a whole month of it. It took a miracle of -parsimony to fill up the enormous deficit. - -The book was devoured—I can use no other word. There I learned the name -of my black bee, and there I read for the first time details of the -habits of insects, and found, with what seemed to my eyes an aureole -round them, the venerated names of Réaumur, Huber, Léon Dufour; and -while I turned the pages for the hundredth time, a voice whispered -vaguely, “Thou too shalt be a historian of animals!” Naïve illusions! -where are you? But let us banish these recollections, both sweet and -sad, and come to the doings of our black bee. - -Chalicodoma, house of pebbles, rough-cast mortar, a name which would be -perfect did it not look odd to any one not well up in Greek. It is a -name applied to those Hymenoptera that build cells with materials such -as we use for our dwellings. It is masonry, but made by a rustic -workman, better used to dried clay than to hewn stone. A stranger to -scientific classification (and this causes great obscurity in some of -his memoirs), Réaumur called the worker after the work, and named our -builders in dried clay Mason Bees, which paints them exactly. We have -two kinds, C. muraria, whose history is admirably given by Réaumur, and -C. sicula, which is not special to the land of Etna, as the name -suggests, but is found in Greece, Algeria, and the Mediterranean region -of France, especially in the department of Vaucluse, where in May it is -one of the most common Hymenoptera. The two sexes of C. muraria are so -unlike in colouring that a novice observing both coming out of the same -nest would take them for strangers to one another. The female is of a -splendid velvet black, with dark violet wings; in the male the black -velvet is replaced by a bright iron-red fleece. The second species—a -much smaller one—has not this difference of colour, both sexes wearing -the same costume—a general mixture of brown, red, and ashy tints. Both -begin to build in the beginning of May. The wing-tips, washed with -violet on a bronze ground, faintly recall the rich purple of the first -species. - -As Réaumur tells us, C. muraria in the northern provinces chooses as -the place to fix her nest a wall well exposed to the sun and not -plastered, as the plaster might come off and endanger her cells. She -only entrusts her constructions to a solid foundation, such as a bare -stone. I see that she is equally prudent in the south, but, for some -reason unknown to me, she generally chooses some other base than the -stone of a wall. A rolled pebble, often hardly larger than one’s -fist,—one of those with which the waters of the glacial period covered -the terraces of the Rhône valley,—is her favourite support. The great -ease with which such a one is found may influence her; all our slightly -raised plateaux, all our arid thyme-clad ground, are but heaped pebbles -cemented with red earth. In the valleys the bee can also use the stones -gathered in torrent beds; near Orange, for instance, her favourite -spots are the alluviums of the Aygues, with their stretches of rolled -boulders no longer visited by water. Or if a pebble be wanting, she -will establish her nest on a boundary stone or an enclosing wall. - -Chalicodoma sicula has a yet greater variety of choice. Her favourite -position is under a tile projecting from the edge of a roof. There is -scarcely a little dwelling in the fields that does not thus shelter her -nests. There, every spring, she establishes populous colonies, whose -masonry, transmitted from one generation to another, and yearly -enlarged, finally covers a very considerable surface. I have seen such -a one under the tiles of a shed, which spread over five or six square -yards. When the colony were hard at work, their number and humming -fairly made one dizzy. The underpart of a balcony pleases them equally, -or the frame of an unused window,—above all, if closed by a -sun-shutter, which offers a free passage. But these are great -meeting-places, where labour, each for herself, hundreds and thousands -of workers. If alone, which not seldom occurs, Chalicodoma sicula -establishes herself in the first little spot she can find, so long as -it has a solid basis and heat. As for the nature of this basis it -matters little. I have seen nests built on bare stones and brick, on a -shutter, and even on the glass panes in a shed. One thing only does not -suit the bee—namely, the stucco of our houses. Prudent, like her -retainer C. muraria, she would fear ruin to her cells did she entrust -them to a support which might fall. - -Finally, for reasons which I cannot yet satisfactorily explain, C. -sicula often entirely changes her manner of building, turning her heavy -mortar dwelling, which seems to require a rock to support it, into an -aerial one, hung to a bough. A bush in a hedge,—no matter -what—hawthorn, pomegranate, or Paliurus,—offers a support, usually -about the height of a man, Ilex and elm give a greater height. The bee -chooses in some thicket a bough about as thick as a straw, and -constructs her edifice on this narrow base with the same mortar which -would be used under a balcony or the projecting edge of a roof. When -finished, the nest is a ball of earth, traversed literally by the -bough. If made by a single insect it is the size of an apricot, and of -a fist if several have worked at it; but this seldom occurs. - -Both species use the same materials, a calcareous clay, mixed with a -little sand and kneaded with the mason’s own saliva. Damp spots which -would facilitate labour and spare saliva to mix mortar are disdained by -the Chalicodoma, which refuses fresh earth for building, just as our -builders refuse old plaster and lime. Such materials when soaked with -humidity would not hold properly. What is needed is a dry powder, which -readily absorbs the disgorged saliva, and forms with the albuminous -principles of this liquid a kind of Roman cement, hardening -quickly,—something like what we obtain with quicklime and white of egg. - -A beaten road, formed of calcareous boulders crushed by passing wheels -into a smooth surface like paving stones, is the quarry whence -Chalicodoma sicula prefers to get mortar; whether she builds on a -branch, in a hedge, or under the jutting roof of some rural habitation, -it is always from a neighbouring path, or a road, or the highway, that -she seeks materials—indifferent to the constant passing of beasts and -travellers. You should see the active bee at work when the road is -dazzling white in the hot sunshine. Between the neighbouring farm where -she is building and the road where the mortar is prepared, there is the -deep hum of the bees perpetually crossing each other as they come and -go. The air seems traversed by constant trails of smoke, so rapid and -direct is their flight. Those who go carry away a pellet of mortar as -big as small shot; those who come settle on the hardest and driest -spots. Their whole body vibrates as they scratch with the tips of their -mandibles, and rake with their forefeet to extract atoms of earth and -grains of sand, which, being rolled between their teeth, become moist -with saliva and unite. They work with such ardour that they will let -themselves be crushed under the foot of a passer-by rather than move. -Chalicodoma muraria, however, which seeks solitude, far from human -habitation, is rarely seen on beaten paths; perhaps they are too -distant from the places where she builds. If she can find dry earth, -rich in small gravel, near the boulder chosen as the basis of her nest, -she is contented. She may either make quite a new nest in a spot -hitherto unoccupied, or over the cells of an old one, after repairing -them. Let us consider the first case. - -After choosing a boulder, she comes with a pellet of mortar in her -mandibles, and arranges it in a ring on the surface of the pebble. The -forefeet, and above all the mandibles, which are her most important -tools, work the material, which is kept plastic by the gradually -disgorged saliva. To consolidate the unbaked clay, angular pieces of -gravel, as large as a small bean, are worked in singly on the outside -of the still soft mass. This is the foundation of the edifice. Other -layers are added until the cell has the required height of three or -four centimetres. The masonry is formed by stones laid on one another -and cemented with lime, and can stand comparison with our own. True, to -economise labour and mortar, the bee uses coarse materials,—large bits -of gravel, which in her case answer to hewn blocks. They are chosen -singly—very hard ones, almost always with angles which, fitted -together, give mutual support, and add solidity to the whole. Layers of -mortar, sparingly used, hold them together. The outside of the cell -thus assumes the look of a piece of rustic architecture, in which -stones project with their natural inequalities; but over the inside, -which requires a smoother surface in order not to wound the tender skin -of the larva, is spread a wash of pure mortar—artlessly, however, as if -by broad sweeps of a trowel; and when it has eaten up its honey paste, -the grub takes care to make a cocoon and hang the rude wall of its -abode with silk. The Anthophora and Halictus, whose larvæ spin no -cocoon, varnish the inside of their earthen cells delicately, giving -them the polish of worked ivory. - -The construction, the axis of which is always nearly vertical, with an -orifice opening upward, so that the fluid honey may not run out, -differs a little in form, according to its basis. On a horizontal -surface it rises like a little oval tower; on a vertical or slanting -one it resembles half a thimble cut down its length. In this case the -support—the pebble itself—completes the surrounding wall. The cell -completed, the bee sets to work at once to store it. The neighbouring -flowers, especially those of Genista scorpius, which in May turn the -alluviums of the torrents golden, furnish sugared liquid and pollen. -She comes with her crop swelled with honey, and all yellow underneath -with pollen dust, and plunges head first into the cell, where for some -moments one may see her work her body in a way which tells that she is -disgorging honey. Her crop emptied, she comes out, but only to go in -again at once—this time backwards. With her two hind feet she now frees -herself from her load, of pollen by brushing herself underneath. Again -she goes out, and returns head first. She must stir the materials with -her mandibles for a spoon, and mix all thoroughly together. This labour -of mixing is not repeated after every journey, but only from time to -time, when a considerable quantity has been collected. When the cell is -half full, it is stored; an egg must be laid on the honey paste, and -the door has to be closed. This is all done without delay. The orifice -is closed by a cover of undiluted mortar, worked from the circumference -to the centre. Two days at most seem required for the whole work, -unless bad weather or a cloudy day should interrupt it. Then, backing -on the first cell, a second is built and stored in the same way, and a -third and fourth, etc., follow, each one with honey and an egg, and -closed before another is begun. Work once begun is continued until it -is completed, the bee never building a new cell until the four acts -required to perfect the preceding one are performed—namely, -construction, provisioning, an egg, and sealing the cell. - -As Chalicodoma muraria always works alone on her chosen boulder, and -shows great jealousy if her neighbours alight there, the number of -cells clustered on one pebble is not great—usually six to ten. Are some -eight larvæ her whole progeny, or will she establish a more numerous -family on other boulders? The surface of the stone would allow of more -cells if she had eggs for them, and the bee might build there very -comfortably without hunting for another, or leaving the one to which -she is attached by habit and long acquaintance. I think, therefore, -that most probably all her scanty family are settled on the same -stone—at all events when she builds a new abode. - -The six or ten cells composing the group are certainly a solid -dwelling, with their rustic covering of gravel, but the thickness of -their walls and lids—two millimetres at most—hardly seems sufficient -against rough weather. Set on its stone in the open air, quite -unsheltered, the nest will undergo the heat of summer suns which will -turn every cell into an oven; then will come the autumn rains which -will slowly eat away the masonry, and then winter frosts which will -crumble what the rain may have respected. However hard the cement may -be, can it resist all these attacks, and if it can, will not the larvæ, -sheltered by so thin a wall, suffer from over-heat in summer and too -keen cold in winter? - -Without having gone through all these arguments, the bee acts wisely. -When all the cells are completed she builds a thick cover over the -whole group, which, being of a material impermeable to water and almost -a non-conductor, is at once a defence against heat and cold and damp. -This material is the usual mortar, made of earth and saliva, only with -no small stones in it. The bee lays it on,—one pellet after another, -one trowelful and then a second,—till there is a layer a centimetre -thick over all the cells, which disappear entirely under it. The nest -is now a rude dome, about as big as half an orange; one would take it -for a clod of mud, half crushed by being flung against a stone where it -had dried. Nothing outside betrays its contents—no suggestion of -cells—none of labour. To the ordinary eye it is only a chance splash of -mud. - -This general cover dries as rapidly as do our hydraulic cements, and -the nest is almost as hard as a stone. A knife with a strong blade is -needed to cut it. In its final shape the nest recalls in no degree the -original work; one would suppose the elegant turrets adorned with -pebble work, and the final dome, looking like a bit of mud, to be the -work of two different species. But scratch away the cover of cement and -we recognise the cells and their layers of tiny pebbles. Instead of -building on a boulder yet unoccupied, Chalicodoma muraria likes to -utilise old nests which have lasted through the year without notable -injury. The mortared dome has remained much as it was at the beginning, -so solid was the masonry; only it is pierced by a number of round holes -corresponding to the chambers inhabited by the larvæ of the past -generation. Such dwellings, only needing a little repair to put them in -good condition, economise much time and toil; so Mason Bees seek them, -and only undertake new constructions when old nests fail them. - -From the same dome come forth brothers and sisters—reddish males and -black females—all descendants of the same bee. The males lead a -careless life, avoiding all labour, and only returning to their clay -dwellings for a brief courtship of their ladies; and they care nothing -for the deserted dwelling. What they want is nectar from flower-cups, -not mortar between their mandibles. But there are the young mothers, -who have sole charge of the future of the family—to which of them will -fall the inheritance of the old nest? As sisters they have an equal -right to it—so would human justice decide, now that it has made the -enormous progress of freeing itself from the old savage right of -primogeniture; but Mason Bees have not got beyond the primitive basis -of property—the right of the first comer. - -So when the time to lay has come, a bee takes the first free nest which -suits her and establishes herself there, and woe to any sister or -neighbour who thenceforward disputes possession of it. A hot reception -and fierce pursuit would soon put the new-comer to flight; only one -cell is wanted at the moment out of all which gape like little wells -around the dome, but the bee calculates that by and by the rest will be -useful, and she keeps a jealous watch on them all and drives away every -visitor. I cannot remember having seen two Mason Bees working on the -same pebble. - -The work is now very simple. The bee examines the inside of the old -cell to see where repairs are needed, tears down the rags of cocoon -hanging on the walls, carries out the bits of earth fallen from the -vault pierced by the inhabitant in order to get out, mortars any places -out of repair, mends the orifice a little, and that is all. Then comes -storage, laying an egg, and stopping up the cell. When these are -successively completed, the general cover, the mortar dome, is repaired -if necessary, and all is finished. - -Chalicodoma sicula prefers a sociable life to a solitary one, and -hundreds—nay, several thousands—will establish themselves on the under -surface of the tiles on a hovel, or the edge of a roof. It is not a -real society with common interests, dear to all, but merely a gathering -where each works for herself and is not concerned for the rest—a throng -recalling the swarm of a hive only by their number and industry. They -use the same mortar as Chalicodoma muraria, equally resistant and -waterproof, but finer and without pebbles. First the old nests are -utilised. Every free cell is repaired, stored, and shut up. But the old -ones are far from sufficing to the population, which increases rapidly -year by year, and on the surface of the nest, where the cells are -hidden below the old general mortar covering, new ones are built as -required. They are placed more or less horizontally, one beside -another, with no kind of order. Every constructor builds as the fancy -takes her, where and as she wills; only she must not interfere with her -neighbour’s work, or rough treatment will soon call her to order. The -cells accumulate in chance fashion in this workyard, where there is no -general plan whatever. Their form is that of a thimble divided down the -axis, and their enclosure is completed either by adjacent cells, or the -surface of the old nest. Outside they are rough, and look like layers -of knotted cords corresponding to the layers of mortar. Inside the -walls are level but not smooth; a cocoon will replace the absent -polish. - -As soon as a cell is built it is stored and walled up, as we have seen -with Chalicodoma muraria. This work goes on through the whole of May. -At length all the eggs are laid, and the bees, without any distinction -as to what does or does not belong to them, all set to work on a common -shelter of the colony—a thick bed of mortar, filling up spaces and -covering all the cells. In the end the nests look like a large mass of -dry mud—very irregular, arched, thickest in the middle, the primitive -kernel of the establishment, thinnest at the edges, where there are -fewest cells, and very variable in extent, according to the number of -workers, and consequently to the time when the nest was begun. Some are -not much larger than one’s hand, while others will occupy the greater -part of the edge of a roof, and be measured by square yards. - -If Chalicodoma sicula works alone, as she often does, on the shutter of -an unused window or on a stone or a branch, she behaves in just the -same way. For instance, if the nest is on a bough, she begins by -solidly fixing the basis of her cell on the slender twig. Then the -building rises into a little vertical tower. This cell being stored and -ceiled, another follows, supported both by the bough and the first -cell, until six to ten cells are grouped one beside the other, and -finally a general cover of mortar encloses them all together with the -bough, which gives them a firm foundation. - - - - - - - - - -XXI - -EXPERIMENTS - - -Built on small pebbles which one can carry whither one will, remove, or -interchange, without disturbing either the work of the constructor or -the quiet of the inhabitants of the cells, the nests of Chalicodoma -muraria lend themselves readily to experiment—the only method capable -of throwing a little light on the nature of instinct. Profitably to -study the physical faculties of the animal it is not enough to know how -to turn to account such circumstances as a happy chance may offer to -the observer: one must be capable of originating others, and vary them -as much as possible and submit them to mutual control; in short, to -give science a solid basis of fact one must experiment. Then some day -will vanish before the evidence of exact documents the fantastic -legends which cumber our books, such as the Scarabæus inviting his -comrades to help in dragging his ball out of a rut, or a Sphex cutting -up a fly to carry it in spite of the wind, and much more which is -misused by those who desire to see in the animal world that which is -not there. Thus, too, will materials be prepared which, used sooner or -later by a learned hand, will cast premature and baseless theories back -into oblivion. - -Réaumur generally confines himself to stating facts as they offered -themselves to him in the normal course of things, and does not attempt -to penetrate further into the powers of the insect by means of -conditions brought about artificially. In his day there was everything -to do, and the harvest was so great that the illustrious reaper hurried -on to what was most urgent,—the gathering of it in, leading his -successors to examine grain and ear in detail. Nevertheless, he -mentions an experiment made on Chalicodoma muraria by his friend Du -Hamel. The nest was placed in a glass funnel, the mouth of which was -closed by a piece of gauze. Three males were hatched, which, though -they had penetrated mortar hard as a stone, either did not attempt to -pierce the thin gauze, or thought it beyond their power to do so. All -three died under the glass. Insects generally only know how to execute -that which they need to do in the common order of nature, adds Réaumur. - -For two reasons the experiment does not satisfy me. First of all, to -give gauze to be pierced by insects with tools made to pierce lumps as -hard as tufa does not seem a happy idea; you cannot expect a navvy’s -pickaxe to do the same work as the scissors of a seamstress. Secondly, -the transparent glass prison seems ill chosen. As soon as it had opened -a way through the thickness of its earthen dome, the insect found -itself in daylight, and to it daylight means final deliverance and -freedom. It strikes against an invisible obstacle—the glass, and glass -does not suggest an obstacle to it. Beyond, it sees a free space bathed -in sunshine. It exhausts itself in efforts to fly there, unable to -comprehend the uselessness of struggling against this strange, -invisible barrier, and perishes, obstinate and exhausted, without a -glance at the gauze which closes the conical tube. The experiment must -be repeated under better conditions. - -The obstacle I selected was common gray paper—opaque enough to keep the -insect in the dark—thin enough not to offer serious resistance to the -prisoner’s efforts. As there is a vast difference by way of obstacle -between a paper partition and a vault of unbaked clay, let us see first -if Chalicodoma muraria knows how, or rather if it is able, to pierce -such a barrier. The two mandibles—pickaxes adapted to pierce hard -mortar—are they also scissors capable of cutting thin material? That is -the point to be ascertained. - -In February, when the insect is already in the perfect state, I -withdrew a certain number of cocoons uninjured from their cells, and -placed each separately in a piece of reed, closed at one end naturally, -open at the other. The pieces of reed represented the nest-cells. The -cocoons were introduced so that the head of the insect should turn to -the opening. Finally, my artificial cells were closed in various ways. -Some had a stopper of kneaded earth, which, when dry, answered in -thickness and consistency to the mortar of the nest; others were shut -by a cylinder of Sorghum vulgare at least a centimetre thick, and -others with a stopper of gray paper, solidly fixed by its edges. All -these bits of cane were arranged side by side, vertically, in a box, -with the artificial roof at the top, so that the insects were in the -exact position they had in a nest. To open them they must do as they -would had I not intervened—break through the wall overhead. I protected -all with a large bell glass, and awaited the month of May when they -would emerge. - -The result greatly surpassed my expectations. The earthen stopper made -by me was pierced with a round hole, noways differing from that made by -the mason bee through its mortar dome. The vegetable barrier, so new to -my prisoner,—namely, the Sorghum cylinder,—was likewise opened by a -hole, apparently made by a single effort, and the gray paper allowed -the insect to pass, not by bursting through, but once more by a neat -round hole. So my bees were capable of work for which they were not -created. To issue from their reed cells they did what probably none of -their race ever did before; they perforated the Sorghum pith and made a -hole in the paper just as they would have done with their natural clay -ceiling. When the moment came to free themselves, the nature of the -obstacle was no hindrance so long as it was not too strong for them, -and thenceforward the plea of incapacity could not be evoked where a -mere paper barrier was in question. - -At the same time as the reed cells, two intact nests on their pebbles -were placed under the glass bell. On one I pressed closely a sheet of -gray paper over the mortar dome, so that to come forth the insect must -first pierce the dome and then the paper, no space being left between -them; while a little cone of gray paper was gummed on the stone round -the other nest, so that, as in the first case, there was a double -barrier, an earthen and a paper one, with, however, this -difference—that the two barriers were not close together, there being a -space between them of about a centimetre at the base, and increasing as -the cone rises. The results of these two experiments were quite unlike. -The Hymenoptera from the nest where paper had been applied to the dome -came forth by piercing the double barrier, the outer one being pierced -by a clean round hole, as in the reed cells closed in the same way. For -the second time it is shown that if the bee is stopped by a paper -barrier, the cause is not incapacity to deal with such an obstacle. On -the other hand, after they had pierced their earthen vault, the -dwellers in the second nest who found the sheet of paper a little way -off, made no attempt to overcome the obstacle over which they would so -easily have triumphed had it been attached to the nest. They died under -the cover without an effort for freedom. So had perished Réaumur’s bees -under his glass tube when there was but a bit of gauze between them and -freedom. This fact appears to me rich in consequences. What! Here are -strong insects which find penetrating tufa mere play, and a stopper of -thin wood or a sheet of paper quite easy to pierce, new as these are to -them, and yet these vigorous insects let themselves stupidly perish -imprisoned in a cone of paper which they might have torn to bits with -one bite of their mandibles. They might—but they never dreamed of doing -so. The motive of their dull inertness can be only this—the insect is -excellently endowed with tools and instinctive faculties, in order to -accomplish the final act of its metamorphosis, i.e. issuing from the -cocoon or cell. Its mandibles furnish it with scissors, file, pick, and -lever to cut, gnaw, and pull down not only its cocoon and wall of -mortar, but any other barrier not too tenacious which may be -substituted for the natural wall of its nest. Moreover,—and this is a -chief condition, without which its outfit would be useless,—there is, I -will not say the will to use these tools, but an inward stimulus -inviting it to employ them. The hour to come forth having arrived, this -stimulus awakens, and the insect sets to work to bore a passage. - -In that case it matters little whether the material to be pierced is -natural mortar, Sorghum pith, or paper. The imprisoning cover will not -resist long. It even matters little if the obstacle be thickened and a -paper barrier be added to the earthen one. Both count as one if there -be no interval between them, and the insect passes through them because -this coming forth seems to it a single action. With the paper cone, -whose wall is at a short distance, the conditions are changed, although -the total thickness of barrier is really the same. The insect has done -all that it was destined to do in order to free itself. To move freely -on the mortar dome means to it that deliverance is achieved. It has -bored its way out; the work is accomplished. But round the nest another -barrier presents itself—the paper wall. To pierce through, the action -already accomplished must be repeated—that action which the insect has -to perform but once in its life. It must double that which naturally is -but single; and it cannot, simply because it has not the will to do it. -It perishes for lack of the smallest ray of intelligence. Yet in this -singular intellect it is the fashion nowadays to see a rudiment of -human reason! The fashion will pass and the facts remain, bringing us -back to the good old ideas of the soul and its immortal destinies. - -Réaumur relates, too, how his friend Du Hamel, having seized a mason -bee with his pincers when it had entered half-way into its cell, head -first, to fill it with bee-bread, carried it into a room at a -considerable distance from the spot where he caught it. The bee escaped -and flew through the window. Du Hamel immediately returned to the nest. -The mason bee reached it almost at the same time, and resumed work. It -only seemed a little wilder, says the narrator. - -Why were you not with me, venerated master, on the banks of the Aygues, -with their stretches of pebbles, dry for three parts of the year, and -an enormous torrent when it rains? I would have shown you something far -better than the fugitive escaped from your pincers. You should have -seen, and shared my surprise thereat, not the short flight of a mason -bee, which, carried into a room near at hand, escapes and returns -straight home in a neighbourhood familiar to her, but long journeys by -unknown ways. You would have seen the bee, carried away by me to a long -distance, return with a geographical precision which the swallow would -not disown, or the martin, or the carrier-pigeon, and you would have -asked yourself, as I did, what inexplicable knowledge of the map of the -country guides this mother in seeking her nest. Let us come to the -facts. We must repeat on the mason bee my earlier experiments with the -Cerceris—namely, carrying the insect in darkness far from the nest, -marking and setting it free. In case any one should wish to repeat the -experiment, I will explain my method of operation, which may make it -easier for a beginner. The insect destined for a long journey must of -course be captured with certain precautions. No nippers, no pincers -which might maim a wing, strain it, and endanger power of flight. While -the bee is absorbed in work within her cell, I cover the latter with a -little glass tube. As she flies out she goes into this, and thus, -without touching her, I can transfer her to a twist of paper and close -it quickly. A botanical tin serves as a means of transporting the -captives, each in its paper prison. - -It is on the spots chosen as starting-places that the most delicate -operation takes place—namely, marking each captive before freeing her. -I use chalk powdered fine and moistened with a strong solution of gum -arabic. Dropped somewhere on the insect with a straw, it leaves a white -mark, which dries quickly and adheres to the bee’s fleece. If a mason -bee has to be marked, so as to distinguish her from another in an -experiment of short duration, such as I shall presently describe, I -only touch the tip of the abdomen with a straw charged with colour -while the insect is half inside the cell, head down-wards. The bee does -not notice the slight touch and works on undisturbed; but the mark is -not very durable, nor at a spot favourable for its preservation, since -the bee frequently brushes her body to detach pollen, and sooner or -later effaces it. It is therefore in the very middle of the -thorax—between the wings—that I drop the gummed chalk. - -In such work it is hardly possible to wear gloves. The fingers require -all their dexterity to seize the mason bee with sufficient delicacy, -and to master her struggles without rough pressure. It is evident that -if nothing else be gained, one is sure of stings; with a little address -they can generally be avoided, but not always; one must take them with -resignation. Besides, a mason bee’s sting is by no means so painful as -that of a hive bee. The white spot dropped on the thorax—off goes the -mason bee, and the mark dries as she goes. - -The first time I tried the experiment I took two mason bees busy at -their nests on the boulders covering the alluvial lands along the -Aygues, not far from Serignan, and carried them to my home at Orange, -where I freed them after marking each. According to the Ordnance map -the distance between the two places is about four kilometres in a right -line. The captives were freed in the evening at an hour when bees begin -to leave off work, so it was likely that my two would spend the night -somewhere near. - -The next morning I returned to the nests. It was still too cold, and -work was suspended. When the dew was dried the masons set to work. I -saw a bee, but without the white spot, taking pollen to one of the two -nests whence had come the travellers whom I expected. A stranger, -having found the cell unoccupied, and having expatriated the owner, had -established herself there, unaware that it was the property of another. -Perhaps she had been storing it since the previous evening. Towards ten -o’clock, at the hottest time, suddenly the proprietor arrived. Her -rights as first occupier were inscribed as far as I was concerned in -irrefutable characters in white chalk on her thorax. Here was one of my -travellers come back. - -Over waves of corn, over fields of red sainfoin, she had accomplished -the four kilometres, and returned to her nest after collecting booty on -the way, for she came,—worthy creature that she was!—all yellow -underneath with pollen. To return from the verge of the horizon was a -marvel, but to do so with a well-furnished pollen brush was really -sublime economy! A journey, even if compulsory, is always for a bee an -opportunity of collecting food. She found the stranger in her nest. -“What’s all this? You just wait!” and fell furiously on the other, who -perhaps had thought no wrong. Then there were hot pursuits through the -air. From time to time the two hovered almost motionless, facing one -another with a couple of inches between them, doubtless measuring each -other with their eyes, and humming abuse at one another. Sometimes one, -sometimes the other alighted on the nest in question. I expected to see -a wrestle, and stings used; but I was mistaken. The duties of maternity -spoke too imperiously to allow them to risk life, and wipe out the -injury in a mortal duel. All was limited to hostile demonstrations and -a few tussles leading to nothing. - -However, the proprietor seemed to draw redoubled courage and strength -from consciousness of her rights. She encamped permanently on the nest -and received the other bee each time that she ventured to approach with -an irritated quiver of the wings in token of just indignation. The -stranger finally withdrew discouraged, and instantly the mason resumed -work as actively as if she had not undergone the chances and changes of -a long journey. - -Yet another word as to rights of property. While a mason bee is absent -it is not unusual for some homeless vagabond to visit the nest, take a -liking to it, and set to work, sometimes at the same cell, sometimes at -the next, if there are several free, as often happens with old nests. -When the first occupant returns she does not fail to drive away the -intruder, who always ends by getting the worst of it, so lively and -invincible is the real owner’s sense of property. Reversing the savage -Prussian maxim, “Strength before right,” here right comes before -strength; otherwise the constant retreat of the intruder would be quite -inexplicable, since the latter’s strength is in no way inferior to that -of the real owner. If she has less audacity it must come from not -feeling braced by the sovereign strength of being right, which decides -among equals, even in the brute creation. - -The second of my two travellers did not appear, either on the day when -the first came, nor later. I decided to make another experiment—this -time with five subjects. Place of starting and arrival, distance and -hours, were the same. I found three at the nests on the following day; -two were missing. - -It is therefore quite clear that Chalicodoma muraria carried away four -kilometres, and, set free where she certainly could never have been -before, can return home. But why did one out of two, and two out of -five, fail to do so? What one could do, why not another? Are they not -equally gifted with the faculty which guides them through the unknown? -Is it not rather inequality in the power of flight? I recollected that -my Hymenoptera did not all fly off with the same energy; hardly were -some out of my fingers, launching themselves impetuously into the air, -than I lost sight of them, while others let themselves drop a few paces -off after a short flight. It seems certain that these had suffered -during the journey—perhaps from the concentrated heat in the furnace of -my box, or I may have harmed the jointure of the wings while marking -them—an operation difficult to perform when one has to avoid being -stung. These are maimed, weak creatures—unable to go on with all sail -spread, as they ought, for this journey. The experiment must be tried -again, only counting those bees which instantly leave my fingers with a -swift, strong flight. We shall omit those which hesitate or linger -close by on some bush. Moreover, I will do my best to compute the time -employed in returning to the nest. - -Such an experiment requires a considerable number of subjects, as the -weak and maimed, who may be many, must be rejected. Chalicodoma muraria -cannot furnish the quantity needed; it is not common enough, and I am -anxious not to disturb the small people by the Aigues whom I want for -other observations later. Fortunately I have near my house, under the -projecting edge of the roof of a shed, a magnificent colony of -Chalicodoma sicula in full activity. I can draw at pleasure on the -populous city. The insect is small—less than half the size of C. -muraria; no matter—all the more merit if it can traverse the four -kilometres which I have in reserve for it, and find its nest. I took -forty, isolating them as usual in paper cones. - -A ladder was placed against the wall in order to reach the nest; it was -to be used by my daughter Aglaë, to allow her to mark the exact instant -when the first one returned. I set the clock on the mantelpiece and my -watch together, that I might compare the moment of departure and -arrival. Then I carried off my forty captives to the spot where -Chalicodoma muraria works beside the Aygues. The expedition had a -double scope—to observe Réaumur’s mason bee and set the Sicilian one -free. The latter would have to fly back four kilometres. - -At length my prisoners were released—all marked with a large white dot -in the middle of the thorax. It is not for nothing that one -successively handles forty wrathful Hymenoptera which forthwith -unsheath and make play with their poisoned stings. Before the mark -could be made, too often the stab was given, and my burning fingers -moved in self-defence sometimes against my will; I handled them with -more consideration for myself than for the insect, and sometimes -squeezed my bees too hard. To experiment in order to lift a small -corner of the veil that covers a truth is a beautiful and noble thing, -which can enable one to brave many perils, yet surely one may show a -little impatience if in a brief space of time one’s finger tips get -stung forty times. If any one should reproach me for my clumsy -handling, I would suggest that he make the experiment, and then judge -how far the situation was pleasant. - -In short, either from the fatigue of the journey, or because I pressed -too hard and injured some articulations, out of my forty Hymenoptera -only twenty flew off strongly and unhesitatingly; the rest strayed over -the herbage near at hand, unable to keep their balance, or remained on -the willows where I had put them, refusing to fly even when excited by -a straw. These faint-hearted ones, these maimed ones, these incapables -hurt by my fingers, must be struck off the list. Twenty started with an -unhesitating flight. That was amply sufficient. - -At the moment of departure there was nothing special in the direction -taken—nothing of that straight line to the nest which the Cerceris took -in a like case. As soon as they were free the Chalicodoma fled -scared—one in this direction, one to a completely opposite point; but, -as far as their fiery flight allowed, I think I saw a rapid return of -those bees which had flown in the wrong direction for their nests, and -most seemed to go to that side of the horizon. I leave this point with -the doubts unavoidable with regard to insects lost sight of at some -twenty metres distance. So far the experiment had been favoured by calm -weather, but now things grew complicated. The heat was stifling, and -the sky grew stormy. Rather a strong wind rose, blowing from the -south—the very direction which my bees should take to return home. -Could they overcome this contrary current and cleave this aerial -torrent with their wings? If they try it they must keep close to the -ground, as I saw those Hymenoptera doing which continued to work, but -it appeared out of the question to soar into the high regions where -they might obtain a clear acquaintance with the surrounding country. It -was therefore with great apprehension as to the success of my -experiment that I returned to Orange after again trying to learn some -secret from the bees on the Aygues pebbles. - -Hardly had I entered my house when I saw Aglaë, flushed with -excitement. “Two,” she cried—“two came at twenty minutes to three, all -laden with pollen!” A friend chanced to have come in—a grave legal -personage, who, hearing what was on hand, forgot the Code and stamped -paper, and insisted on also watching for the arrival of my homing -pigeons. The result interested him more than did the lawsuit about the -partition wall. In a Senegalian sun and furnace heat reflected from the -wall, every five minutes did he mount the ladder bareheaded, with no -other protection against sunstroke than his thick, gray locks. Instead -of the single watcher whom I had posted I found two good pairs of eyes -watching the bees’ return. I had freed them about two o’clock, and the -first two returned to the nest at twenty minutes to three, so that -three-quarters of an hour had sufficed for travelling four -kilometres,—a very striking result, especially if we remember that the -bees worked on the road, as was proved by the pollen on their bodies, -and besides they must have been hindered by having the wind against -them. Two more came back under my eyes, and they had signs of having -worked on the way by their load of pollen. As it was growing late, -observations could not be continued. When the sun goes down the mason -bees leave the nest and take refuge I know not where—here and -there—perhaps under roof tiles and in little shelters in walls. I could -not count on the arrival of the others until work was resumed in full -sunshine. - -The next day, when sunshine recalled the scattered workers, I again -counted the bees with white dots on their thorax. My success surpassed -all my hopes; I counted fifteen—fifteen of the deported bees storing or -building as if nothing had happened! Then the storm, which had -threatened more and more, burst, and a succession of rainy days stopped -all further observations. - -Such as it was, the experiment sufficed. Out of twenty bees which -seemed fit for the journey when released, fifteen at least had come -back—two in the first hour, and three in the course of the evening, and -the rest next morning. They had come back in spite of having the wind -against them, and—a yet greater difficulty—in spite of their -unfamiliarity with the place whither I had transported them. There -could be no question that it was for the first time that they saw the -osier beds of the Aygues which I had chosen as the starting-place. -Never on their own account had they gone so far afield, for they find -all they want by way of building material and food close to my shed. -The road at the foot of the wall furnishes mortar; the meadows round my -house offer nectar and pollen. Economical of time as they are, they -would not fly four kilometres to procure what abounds close to the -nests. I see them daily taking material from the road, and making a -harvest on the meadow flowers, especially on Salvia. According to all -appearance they do not fly beyond a circle of a hundred metres. How -then did my exiles return? What guided them? Not memory, certainly, but -some special faculty, which we can only recognise by its astonishing -effects without pretending to explain it, so far outside our own -psychology is it. - - - - - - - - - -XXII - -AN EXCHANGE OF NESTS - - -Let us continue our series of experiments on Chalicodoma muraria. From -its position on a stone which one can move at will, its nest lends -itself to very interesting trials. This is the first of them. I change -the place of a nest by carrying the pebble it is placed on some couple -of yards away. Edifice and base forming but one, the move was made -without at all disturbing the cells. I set the pebble in an open place -well in sight, as it was before. When the bee returned, she could not -fail to see it. - -After a few minutes the owner arrived and went straight where the nest -used to be. She hovered gently just above the vacant spot, looked, and -alighted just where the stone used to lie. There she walked about, -searching pertinaciously, then soared up and flew away. Her absence was -short; she came back speedily and resumed her search on foot or on the -wing—always on the spot formerly occupied by the nest. A new fit of -irritation expressed by a sudden flight through the osier bed, then as -sudden a return and resumption of the vain search—always over the -impression left by the pebble which I had carried away. These sudden -flights, prompt returns, and obstinate examinations of the empty place, -were repeated very many times before the mason bee could believe her -nest was gone. She certainly must have seen it in its new position, for -sometimes she flew only a few inches above it, but she did not care -about it. For her it only represented the nest of another bee. - -Often the experiment ends without so much as a visit to the stone -carried three or four yards away; the bee departs and does not return. -If the distance be less—say a yard—sooner or later she alights on the -pebble on which her nest is built. She will visit the cell which she -was making or storing a little while earlier, plunge in her head -several times, examine the surface of the stone narrowly, and after -much hesitation return to search over the original spot. The nest, -which is no longer in its right place, is altogether abandoned, though -it be but a yard away. Vainly does the bee alight on it; she cannot -recognise it as hers. I convinced myself of this by finding it several -days later in just the same state as when I moved it. The cell, half -filled with honey, was still open, allowing the ants to pillage it; the -cell in process of construction was unfinished, without a single new -course of mortar. Of course the bee may have returned, but she had not -resumed her work. The displaced abode was abandoned for ever. - -I shall not deduce the strange paradox that a bee, capable of returning -home from a great distance, is yet incapable of finding it a yard off; -the interpretation of the facts does not involve this. The conclusion -appears to be that she retains a tenacious impression of the spot -occupied by the nest, returning there with an indefatigable obstinacy -when the nest is gone. But of the nest itself she has a very vague -notion—does not recognise her own masonry kneaded with her own saliva, -nor the honey paste she had collected. Vainly does she visit her work, -the cell; she abandons it, not acknowledging it any more, since the -place where lies the pebble is no longer the same. - -We must own that insect memory is a strange one, so lucid in general -knowledge of locality, so limited as to its home. I should be disposed -to name it topographical instinct; the creature knows the localities, -but not the dear nest—the dwelling. The Bembex led us to a like -conclusion. The nest being laid open, she cared nothing for the -family—for the larva writhing distressfully in the sun unrecognised. -What they do recognise, what they seek, and find with marvellous -precision, is the place where no longer exists anything of the entrance -door—not even a threshold. - -If any doubt remain as to the powerlessness of Chalicodoma muraria to -know her nest except by the place which the pebble occupies on the -ground, this may set it at rest. I substituted a nest of one mason bee -for that of another, as alike as might be, both in masonry and storage. -Of course this exchange and those of which I shall speak later were -made during the absence of the owner. In the nest not hers, but placed -where her own had been, she established herself without hesitation. If -she had been building, I offered her a cell in process of construction, -and she worked on with the same care and zeal as if the work already -done had been her own. If she were bringing honey and pollen, I offered -a cell partly stored. Her journeys continued, with honey in her crop -and pollen underneath her body to complete filling the store of another -bee. - -Thus the bee does not suspect the exchange, nor distinguish what is and -is not hers. She thinks she is continuing to work at a cell really her -own. - -After leaving her for a time in possession of the exchanged nest, I -restored her own. The fresh change passed unobserved; her labour was -continued in the cell restored to her, at the point at which it had -arrived in the substituted one. Then I once more substituted the -strange nest, and still she persisted in her labour. Thus alternating -nests at the same spot, I thoroughly convinced myself that the insect -cannot perceive the difference between that which is her own and that -which is not. Whether the cell be hers or not, she works with equal -fervour, provided that the basis for the edifice—the stone—remains in -its original position. - -One may lend a livelier interest to the experiment by using two -neighbouring nests—work at which is about equally advanced. I transpose -them, placing one where the other was; the distance is hardly a cubit. -Despite this close neighbourhood, which allows the bees to see both -nests at once and choose between them, the two bees on arriving each -immediately alighted on the substituted nest and went on working at it. -We may change the two nests at pleasure; we shall still see the two -mason bees keep to the spot chosen by them and work in turn—now at -their own cell, now at that of the other. - -It may be thought that the confusion was caused by a close resemblance -between the two nests, since, at first little expecting the results -obtained, I began by choosing those as much alike as possible, lest the -bees should be repelled. My caution presupposed a clear-sightedness the -insect did not possess. I now took two nests exceedingly unlike, except -that in each the bee found a cell advanced in its work to the same -point. The first was an old nest, with the dome pierced with eight -holes, the orifices of cells of a preceding generation; one of these -had been restored, and the bee was storing it. The second was a new -nest, with no dome, and composed of a single cell with little stones on -the outside. Here too the bee was storing her paste. Certainly no two -nests could differ more: the one with its eight vacant rooms, and its -ample dome of clay, the other with a single cell—bare, and at most the -size of an acorn. - -Well, the two mason bees did not hesitate long before the two exchanged -nests—hardly a yard apart. Each went to the site of its former abode. -The owner of the old nest found but a single cell. She rapidly -inspected the stone, and without further ceremony first plunged her -head into the cell to disgorge honey, and then her hind-quarters to -drop pollen. And this was no action performed to rid herself as soon as -possible of a trying burden, for she flew away and quickly returned -with fresh stores to be laid up. This bringing provisions to another’s -larder was repeated as often as I would allow. The other bee, finding, -instead of one cell a spacious building with eight chambers, was at -first considerably embarrassed. Which of the eight was the right -one?—in which was her heap of bee bread? She plunged down into each -room, and at length found what she was seeking—a condition like that -which she had left when she took her last journey, the beginning of a -store of food. From that moment she behaved like her neighbour, and -carried honey and pollen to a cell not made by her. - -Let us restore the nests to their natural places, exchanging them -afresh. Each bee, after a little hesitation, sufficiently explained by -the very great difference between the two nests, will work alternately -in her own cell and the strange one. At length the egg is laid and the -cell closed, whichever the nest may be that she is occupied with at the -moment when the provisions are sufficient. Such facts show clearly why -I hesitate to give the name of memory to the singular faculty that -brings back the insect so accurately to the site of her nest, yet does -not allow her to distinguish her work from that of another, however -great may be the difference of appearance between them. - -Now let us experiment on Chalicodoma muraria from another psychological -point of view. Here is a mason bee at work on the first course of her -cell; in exchange I give her one not only completed, but half full of -honey, which I stole from an owner who would speedily have laid an egg -there. What will the mason do with this munificent gift which spares -her the labour of building and storage? Leave her mortar, of course, -lay an egg, and close all up. Not at all! the animal finds our logic -illogical. The insect obeys an inevitable, unconscious impulse. It has -no choice as to what it shall do,—no discernment as to what is and is -not desirable,—but glides, as it were, down an irresistible slope -prepared for it beforehand to bring it to a determined end. The facts -still to be stated affirm this strongly. - -The bee, which is building, and to which I offer a cell ready made and -full of honey, will not give up building for that; she is following her -trade as mason, and once on that tack, led on by unconscious impulse, -she must needs build, even if her labour be superfluous and contrary to -her interests. The cell I give her is certainly quite complete in the -opinion of its own constructor, since the bee from whom I subtracted it -was finishing the store of honey. To touch it up, and, above all, to -add to it is useless and absurd. All the same the bee which is building -will build. On the orifice of the honey store she lays another layer of -mortar, then another and another, until the cell is actually a third -beyond its usual height. Now the task is done—not as well indeed as if -the bee had continued the cell whose foundations she was laying when -the nests were exchanged, but certainly in a way more than enough to -demonstrate the irresistible impulse which drove the builder on. Then -came the storing, likewise abridged, for otherwise the honey would -overflow by the union of the stores of two bees. Thus the mason bee, -which is beginning to build, and to which one gives a cell completed -and filled with honey, alters nothing in the order of her work. First -she builds and then she stores; only she shortens her labours—instinct -warning her that the height of the cell and quantity of honey are -beginning to assume proportions too great. - -The reverse of this is not less conclusive. To a mason bee which was -laying up food I would give a cell only just sketched out and unable to -receive the honey paste. This cell, still damp from the constructor’s -saliva, might or might not be accompanied by other cells, recently -closed and containing an egg and honey. The bee, whose half-filled cell -is thus replaced, seems greatly puzzled on arriving with her load at -this shallow hollow offering no place for the honey. She will examine -it, measure it with her eye, try it with her antennæ, and recognise its -insufficient depth. For a time she hesitates, departs, returns, flies -off again, and comes back in haste to dispose of her load. Her -embarrassment is visible; I could not help saying inwardly: “Take some -mortar—take some mortar, and finish your storehouse. It will only -require a few moments to make it deep enough.” The bee was of a -different opinion. She was laying in food, and food she must lay up, -happen what might. She could not decide to lay aside the pollen brush -for the mason’s trowel, and nothing could induce her to delay the -harvest which occupied her in order to take up that work of building -for which it is not the due moment. Rather would she seek another cell, -in the desired condition, and will penetrate there to store the honey, -even if received with fury by the owner. In fact, this happened. I -wished her success, knowing myself to be the cause of this desperate -act. My curiosity had turned an honest worker into a thief. - -Matters may take a yet more serious turn, so obstinate and imperious is -the desire to harvest the store securely. The unfinished cell that the -bee refuses to accept instead of her own complete one, with its honey, -is sometimes, as I have said, among several containing paste and egg, -and newly closed. In this case I have seen, though not always, the -following sight. Having ascertained unmistakably that the unfinished -cell will not do, the bee begins to gnaw the cover of a neighbouring -one. With her saliva she softens a spot in the mortar, and patiently -digs away atom by atom in the hard covering. A long half hour passes -before the tiny dimple excavated is big enough to receive a pin’s head. -I waited. Then I got out of patience, and, feeling sure that she wanted -to open the storehouse, I decided to help her and shorten the labour. -With the point of my knife I knocked off the top; but the crown of the -cell came off too, and its edge was a good deal broken. In my -clumsiness I had made a graceful vase into a wretched, shattered pot. I -was right; the bee wanted to break open the door, and without troubling -herself as to the fragmentary state of the orifice, she immediately -established herself in the cell opened to her. Many times did she bring -honey and pollen, though the store was already complete. Finally, in -this cell containing an egg not hers she laid her own egg, and then -closed, as best she could, the shattered mouth. Thus this bee, who was -engaged in bringing food, neither could nor would be baffled by the -impossibility brought about by me of continuing her work unless she -completed the cell which replaced hers. What she was doing she -persisted in doing in spite of obstacles. She accomplished her task -thoroughly, but in the most absurd way,—by breaking into another bee’s -cell, continuing to store in a cell already overflowing, placing an egg -where the real owner had already laid one, and finally, closing an -orifice which needed serious repairs. Could one desire a better proof -of the irresistible impulse obeyed by the insect? - -Finally, there are other rapid and consecutive actions so closely -connected that the execution of the second implies necessarily the -repetition of the first, even when this has become useless. I have -already said how Sphex flavipennis persists in going down into her -burrow alone, having brought near it the cricket which I cruelly -removed immediately. Her repeated discomfitures did not make her give -up the preliminary domiciliary visit, useless as it is when repeated -ten or twenty times. Chalicodoma muraria exhibits under another form a -like repetition of an act useless itself, but a necessary prelude to -the next one. Arrived with her booty, she goes through a double act of -storage. First she plunges head first into the cell to disgorge the -contents of her crop; then she comes out, returning at once backward to -brush off her load of pollen. At the moment when she is about to enter, -tail first, I gently put her aside with a straw, thus hindering her -second action. She begins all over again, going head first into the -cell, although her crop is empty. Then comes the turn of going in -backward. I instantly put her aside again, and again she goes in head -first. Once more I use my straw. And this goes on as long as the -observer pleases. Put aside just as she is about to introduce her -hinder parts into the cell, she returns to the orifice and persists in -descending head first. Sometimes she goes quite down—sometimes only -half-way, or perhaps there is a mere pretence at descending, and she -only stoops her head in the opening, but at any rate this quite useless -action—for the honey is already disgorged—invariably precedes the -entrance backward to deposit pollen. It is almost the movement of a -machine, not a wheel of which moves till the main one begins to turn. - - - - - - - - - -DESCRIPTIVE NOTES - - -The following Hymenoptera appear new to me in the French fauna. I -append their description:— - - - Cerceris antoniæ, H. Fab. - -Length—16–18 millimetres. Black, closely and strongly punctured; -clypeus raised like a nose, i.e. forming a convex projection, large at -the base, pointed at the end—like half a cone cut down its length; -crest between the antennæ projecting; a line above crest, cheeks, and a -large dot behind each eye, yellow; hood—yellow with black point; -mandibles, rusty yellow; tips, black. The 4th and 5th joints of -antennæ, rusty yellow, the rest brown. Two dots on prothorax, wing -scales and postscutellum, yellow; first segment of abdomen with two -dot-like spots; four next on posterior edge having a yellow band -sharply hollowed in triangle form, or even broken, and this the more as -the segment is a less distant one. - -Under part of the body, black; feet entirely of rusty yellow colour; -wings slightly bronzed at tip. Female. Male unknown to me. - -In colouring this species approaches Cerceris labiata, from which, -however, it differs remarkably in the form of the clypeus and the much -larger size of the insect. Observed round Avignon in July. I dedicate -this species to my daughter Antonia, whose help has often been valuable -to me in my entomological researches. - - - Cerceris julii, H. Fab. - -Length—7–9 millimetres. Black, closely and strongly punctured; clypeus -flat; face covered with a fine silvery pubescence; a narrow yellow band -on each side, on the inner edge of the eyes; mandibles—yellow with -brown tips; antennæ—black above, pale red below; lower face of their -basal joint, yellow. Two small distant points on the prothorax; scales -of wings and postscutellum, yellow. A yellow band on third segment of -the abdomen, and another on the fifth; these two are deeply hollowed on -the anterior edge—the first in a semicircle, the second in a triangle. - -Under part of the body all black; coxæ black; thighs of the hinder pair -of legs quite black; those of the two anterior pairs, black at base, -yellow at the ends; legs and tarsi, yellow; wings rather -smoke-coloured. Female.—Var. (1) Prothorax without yellow dots; (2) two -small yellow dots on second segment of abdomen; (3) wider yellow band -on inner side of the eyes; (4) front of clypeus edged with yellow. - -Male unknown to me. This Cerceris, the smallest of my part of France, -feeds its larvæ on the smallest kinds of weevils (Bruchus granarius and -Apion gravidum). Observed round Carpentras, where it builds in -September in soft sandstone—locally called safre. - - - Bembex julii, H. Fab. - -Length—18–20 millimetres. Black, with bristling whitish hairs on head, -thorax, and base of first segment of the abdomen; labrum lengthened, -yellow; clypeus, with a sloping ridge, forming as it were an angle of -three sides—one face—that of the outer edge—is all yellow, while each -of the two others is marked with a large rectangular black patch -bordering on its neighbour, and thus forming a stripe; both marks, as -well as the cheeks, are covered with a fine silvery down; cheeks on -line between the antennæ, yellow; posterior edge of eyes with a long -yellow border; mandibles—yellow, with brown tips; two first joints of -antennæ yellow beneath, black above, the rest black; prothorax—black; -sides and dorsal division, yellow; mesothorax—black; the callous point, -and a small one on each side above the base of the intermediate feet, -yellow; metathorax—black, with two yellow dots behind, and a larger one -on each side above the base of the hind feet. The two first dots are -sometimes wanting. - -Abdomen—bright black above and without hairs, except at the base of the -first segment, which bristles with whitish ones. All the segments have -a wavy transverse band, wider on the sides than in the middle, and -approaching the posterior edge in proportion as the segment is further -back. On the fifth segment the yellow band reaches the posterior edge. -Anal segment—yellow, black at the base, bristling all over the dorsal -surface with papillæ of a rusty red, which serve as base to the hairs. -A row of like hair-bearing tubercules occupies also the posterior edge -of the fifth segment. Below, the abdomen is a brilliant black, with a -triangular yellow mark on each side of the four intermediate segments. - -Coxæ—black; thighs yellow in front, black behind; legs and -tarsi—yellow; wings transparent. - -Male.—The zig-zag mark on the clypeus is narrower, or even absent; face -then entirely yellow; abdominal bands very pale yellow, almost white. -The sixth segment has a band like the preceding ones, but shorter and -often reduced to two dots. The second segment has underneath it a -longitudinal keel, raised and spine-shaped behind. The anal one has -below it an angular, rather thick projection. Otherwise like the -female. - -This Hymenopteron much resembles Bembex rostrata in size, shape, and -arrangement of the black and yellow colouring, but differs markedly in -the following characteristics:—The clypeus makes a triangle of three -sides, while in other Bembecids it is rounded and convex. Also at the -base is a large zig-zag band, formed by two rectangular marks joined -together and softened by a silvery down, very brilliant under certain -lights. The upper surface of the anal segment bristles with papillæ and -reddish hairs—likewise the further edge of the fifth segment. The -mandibles are only black at the tips, while in Bembex rostrata the base -is also black. Their habits are equally unlike; B. rostrata especially -hunts gadflies, while B. julii never catches large Diptera, but takes -smaller kinds of very varying size. It is frequent in the sandy land of -the Angles, round Avignon, and on the hill of Orange. - - - Ammophila julii, H. Fab. - -Length—from 16–22 millimetres. Stalk of abdomen composed of the first -segment and half 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 prothorax and -mesothorax. Two marks on the sides and one behind either side of the -metathorax, covered with silvery down; abdomen bare, shining. First -segment—black; second—red in the part narrowing to the petiole and in -the widened part; third segment all red; the rest of a beautiful -metallic blue. Legs—black, with silvery down on the coxæ; wings -slightly reddish. Builds in October, and lays up two smallish -caterpillars in each cell. Nearly related to A. holosericea, having the -same shape, but differing markedly in the colour of the legs, which are -all black, by the much less downy head and thorax, and by the -transverse stripes on the three segments of the thorax. - - - -I wish these three Hymenoptera to bear the name of my son Jules, to -whom I dedicate them. - -Dear child! snatched so early from thy passionate love of flowers and -insects! Thou wert my fellow-worker; nothing escaped thy clear-sighted -glance; it was for thee that I was to write this book—for thee, to whom -its recital gave such delight, and thou wert one day to have continued -it. Alas! thou didst leave us for a better home, having heard but the -first few lines of the book. But at least let thy name appear in -it—borne by some of these industrious and beauteous Hymenoptera so dear -to thee! - - J. H. F. - - Orange, 3rd April 1879. - - - THE END - - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] Souvenirs Entomologiques (Ch. Delagrave, 15 Rue Soufflot, Paris), -of which there are now seven series, this volume being a translation of -the first. - -[2] The Scarabæus is also called Ateuchus. - -[3] G. pilularius is a scavenger beetle nearly related to the -Scarabæus. As its name suggests, it too rolls balls of dung. It is -found very generally, even in the north, whereas S. sacer scarcely -leaves the shores of the Mediterranean. - -[4] Fabre subsequently completed the whole life-history and published -it in the fifth series of his Souvenirs (1897). - -[5] The beetles dug up belonged to the following species:—Buprestis -octoguttata, B. bifasciata, B. pruni, B. tarda, B. biguttata, B. -micans, B. flavomaculata, B. chrysostigma, B. novem-maculata. - -[6] In a later essay, Fragments on Psychology, M. Fabre withdraws these -strictures on (Erasmus) Darwin, explaining that they are based on a -misquotation by Lacordaire, who writes “Sphex” where Darwin had said -“wasp.” - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INSECT LIFE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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