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diff --git a/old/68974-0.txt b/old/68974-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 367a044..0000000 --- a/old/68974-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7556 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life and Love of the Insect, by -Jean-Henri Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Life and Love of the Insect - -Author: Jean-Henri Fabre - -Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - -Release Date: September 11, 2022 [eBook #68974] - -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 THE LIFE AND LOVE OF THE -INSECT *** - - - - - THE - LIFE AND LOVE - OF THE INSECT - - BY - J. HENRI FABRE - - TRANSLATED BY - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS - - - LONDON - ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK - 1911 - - - - - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S NOTE - - -The author of these essays was born at Sérignan, in Provence, in the -year 1823, and was long in coming to his own. His birthday, indeed, is -now celebrated annually (Henri Fabre is still alive) at both Sérignan -and Orange; but, as Maurice Maeterlinck, writing of this “Insect’s -Homer ... whose brow should be girt with a double and radiant crown,” -says: - - - “Fame is often forgetful, negligent, behindhand or unjust; and the - crowd is almost ignorant of the name of J. H. Fabre, who is one of - the most profound and inventive scholars and also one of the purest - writers and, I was going to add, one of the finest poets of the - century that is just past.” - - -Fabre’s Souvenirs Entomologiques form ten volumes, containing two to -three hundred essays in all. The present book is a translation of the -greater part of a volume of selected essays, comprising, in addition to -those here presented, three that appeared in a volume entitled Insect -Life and published ten years ago by Messrs. Macmillan, in a version -from the able pen of the author of Mademoiselle Mori. This volume -contained also the first of the four articles descriptive of the habits -of the Sacred Beetle; and the publishers desire me to express their -thanks to Messrs. Macmillan for permission to include in The Life and -Love of the Insect a variant of that first chapter from Insect Life. -The omission of three essays included in the French volume of -selections explains the absence of reference to certain insects -represented in some of the photographic plates. - -I should like to mention my personal sense of gratitude to a gentleman -belonging to a class of workers whose services are not always -recognized in the manner which they deserve. I speak of Mr. Marmaduke -Langdale, my untiring, eager and accurate “searcher,” whose work at -both branches of the British Museum—to say nothing of his uncommonly -thorough acquaintance with the French language—has greatly assisted me -in my task of translation and saved me, I suspect, from making more -than one blunder. - - - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. - - Chelsea, 11 July, 1911. - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - TRANSLATOR’S NOTE v - - CHAPTER - I. THE SACRED BEETLE 1 - II. THE SACRED BEETLE: THE PEAR 18 - III. THE SACRED BEETLE: THE MODELLING 32 - IV. THE SACRED BEETLE: THE GRUB, THE METAMORPHOSIS, - THE HATCHING CHAMBER 42 - V. THE SPANISH COPRIS 63 - VI. THE ONTHOPHAGI 79 - VII. A BARREN PROMISE 88 - VIII. A DUNG BEETLE OF THE PAMPAS 99 - IX. THE GEOTRUPES: THE PUBLIC HEALTH 113 - X. THE MINOTAURUS TYPHŒUS 127 - XI. THE TWO BANDED SCOLIA 143 - XII. THE RINGED CALICURGUS 157 - XIII. THE OLD WEEVILS 171 - XIV. LEAF ROLLERS 184 - XV. THE HALICTI 199 - XVI. THE HALICTI: THE PORTRESS 210 - XVII. THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION 223 - XVIII. THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE FAMILY 243 - - - - - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE -PLATE I.—1. The Sacred Beetle. 2. The Sacred Beetle rolling - his pill. 3. Rolling the pill to the eating burrow Frontispiece -PLATE II.—Burrow and pear-shaped ball of the Sacred Beetle facing 20 -Fig. 1.—Section of the Sacred Beetle’s pill, showing the egg - and the hatching-chamber 24 -PLATE III.—1. The Sacred Beetle pushing away and overturning a - thieving friend who tries to force his assistance upon him. - 2. Crypt in which the Beetle shapes a grub’s provision into - a pear facing 36 -Fig. 2.—The Sacred Beetle’s pill dug out cupwise to receive - the egg 39 -Fig. 3.—Grub of the Sacred Beetle 46 -Fig. 4.—Digestive apparatus of the Sacred Beetle 47 -PLATE IV.—1 and 2. The Spanish Copris, male and female. 3. The - pair jointly kneading the big load, which, divided into egg- - shaped pills, will furnish provisions for each grub of the - brood. 4. The mother alone in her burrow: five pills are already - finished; a sixth is in process of construction facing 72 -Fig. 5.—The Copris’s pill: first state 72 -Fig. 6.—The Spanish Copris’s pill dug out cupwise to receive - the egg 73 -Fig. 7.—The Spanish Copris’s pill: section showing the hatching- - chamber and the egg 73 -Fig. 8.—Phanæus Milo 102 -Fig. 9.—Work of Phanæus Milo. A, the whole piece, actual size. - B, the same opened, showing the pill of sausage-meat, the clay - gourd, the chamber containing the egg and the ventilating-shaft 104 -Fig. 10.—Work of Phanæus Milo: the largest of the gourds observed - (natural size) 108 -PLATE V.—1. Onthophagus Taurus. 2. Onthophagus Vacca. 3. The - Stercoraceous Geotrupe. 4. The Wide-necked Scarab. 5. Cleonus - Ophthalmicus. 6. Cerceris Tuberculata. 7. Buprestis Ærea facing 80 -Fig. 11.—The Stercoraceous Geotrupe’s sausage 121 -Fig. 12.—Section of the Stercoraceous Geotrupe’s sausage at its - lower end, showing the egg and the hatching-chamber 122 -PLATE VI.—Minotaurus Typhœus, male and female. Excavating - Minotaurus’ burrow facing 132 -PLATE VII.—The Minotaurus couple engaged on miller’s and baker’s - work facing 137 -PLATE VIII.—1. The Common or Garden Scolia. 2. The Two-banded - Scolia. 3. Grub of Cetonia Aurata progressing on its back. - 4. The Two-banded Scolia paralyzing a Cetonia grub. 5. Cetonia - grubs progressing on their backs, with their legs in the air; - two are in a resting position, rolled up facing 146 -PLATE IX.—1. Lycosa Narbonensis. 2. The Ringed Calicurgus. - 3. Ammophila Hirsuta. 4. Ammophila Sabulosa. 5. Scroll of - Rhynchites Vitis. 6. Scroll of Rhynchites Populi facing 162 -PLATE X.—The large glass case containing the Scorpions facing 226 -PLATE XI.—1. Nuptial allurements, showing “the straight bend.” - 2. The wedding stroll. 3. The couple enter the nuptial - dwelling facing 240 -PLATE XII.—1. The Languedocian Scorpion devouring a cricket. - 2. After pairing-time: the female feasting on her Scorpion. - 3. The mother and her family, with emancipation-time at - hand facing 252 - - - - - - - - - - - -THE SACRED BEETLE - - -THE LIFE AND LOVE OF -THE INSECT - - -CHAPTER I - -THE SACRED BEETLE - - -The building of the nest, the safeguard of the family, furnishes the -loftiest expression of the instinctive faculties. That ingenious -architect, the bird, teaches us as much; and the insect, with its still -more varied talents, repeats the lesson, telling us that maternity is -the supreme inspirer of the instinct. Placed in charge of the duration -of the species, which is of more serious interest than the preservation -of individuals, maternity awakens a marvellous foresight in the -drowsiest intelligence; it is the thrice sacred hearth wherein smoulder -and then suddenly burst forth those incomprehensible psychic gleams -which give us the impression of an infallible reasoning power. The more -maternity asserts itself, the higher does instinct ascend. - -The most worthy of our attention in this respect are the Hymenoptera, -upon whom the cares of maternity devolve in their fulness. All these -favourites of instinct prepare board and lodging for their offspring. -They become past masters in a host of industries for the sake of a -family which their faceted eyes never behold and which, nevertheless, -the maternal foresight knows quite well. One becomes a manufacturer of -cotton goods and mills cotton-wool bottles; another sets up as a -basket-maker and weaves hampers out of scraps of flowers; a third turns -mason and builds rooms of cement and domes of road-metal; a fourth -starts a pottery-works, in which the clay is kneaded into shapely vases -and jars and bulging pots; yet another adopts the calling of a pitman -and digs mysterious warm, moist passages underground. A thousand trades -similar to ours and often even unknown to our industrial system are -employed in the preparation of the abode. Next come the victuals of the -expected nurslings: piles of honey, loaves of pollen, stores of -preserved game, cunningly paralyzed. In such works as these, having the -future of the family for their exclusive object, the highest -manifestations of the instinct are displayed under the impulse of -maternity. - -In the rest of the entomological order, the mother’s cares are -generally very summary. In most cases, they are confined to the laying -of the eggs in favourable spots, where the grub can find a bed and food -at its own risk and peril. Where education is so rustic, talents are -superfluous. Lycurgus banished the arts from his republic, as -enervating. In like manner, the higher inspirations of the instinct are -banished among insects brought up in Spartan simplicity. The mother -neglects the gentle cares of the cradle; and the prerogatives of the -intellect, the best of all, diminish and disappear, so true is it that -for the animal, even as for ourselves, the family is a source of -perfection. - -While the Hymenoptera, so extremely thoughtful of their progeny, fill -us with wonder, the others, which abandon theirs to the chances of good -luck or bad, must seem to us, by comparison, of but little interest. -These others form almost the entirety; at least, to my knowledge, among -the fauna of our country-sides, there is only one other instance of -insects preparing board and lodging for their family, as do the -gatherers of honey and the buriers of baskets full of game. - -And, strange to say, those insects vying in maternal tenderness with -the flower-despoiling tribe of Bees are none other than the -Dung-beetles, the dealers in ordure, the scavengers of the meadows -contaminated by the herd. We must pass from the scented corollas of the -flower-bed to the droppings left on the high-road by the mule to find a -second example of devoted mothers and lofty instincts. Nature abounds -in these antitheses. What are our ugliness and beauty, our cleanliness -and dirt to her? With refuse, she creates the flower; from a little -manure, she extracts the blessed grain of the wheat. - -Notwithstanding their filthy trade, the Dung-beetles occupy a very -respectable rank. Thanks to their usually imposing size; to their -severe and irreproachably glossy garb; to their short, stout, thickset -shape; to the quaint ornamentation either of their brow or, also, of -their thorax, they cut an excellent figure in the collector’s boxes, -especially when to our own species, oftenest of an ebon black, we add a -few tropical species flashing with gleams of gold and ruddy copper. - -They are the sedulous guests of our herds, for which reason several of -them emit a mild flavour of benzoic acid, the aromatic of the -sheepfolds. Their pastoral habits have impressed the nomenclators, who, -too often, alas, careless of euphony, have changed their note this time -and headed their descriptions with such names as Melibæus, Tityrus, -Amyntas, Corydon, Mopsus and Alexis. We have here the whole series of -bucolic denominations made famous by the poets of antiquity. Virgil’s -eclogues have lent their vocabulary for the Dung-beetles’ -glorification. - -What alacrity around one and the same dropping! Never did adventurers -hurrying from the four corners of the earth display such eagerness in -working a Californian claim. Before the sun becomes too hot, they are -there in their hundreds, large and small, promiscuously, of every sort, -shape and size, hastening to carve themselves a slice of the common -cake. There are some that work in the open air and scrape the surface; -there are some that dig themselves galleries in the thick of the heap, -in search of choice veins; others work the lower stratum and bury their -spoil without delay in the underlying ground; others—the smallest—stand -aside to crumble a morsel that has fallen from the mighty excavations -of their more powerful fellow-workers. Some, the newcomers and, no -doubt, the hungriest, consume their meal on the spot; but the greater -number mean to put by a substance that will allow them to spend long -days in plenty, down in some safe retreat. A nice, fresh dropping is -not found just when you want it, amid the fields bare of thyme; a -windfall of that sort is as manna from the sky; only fortune’s -favourites receive so fair a portion. Wherefore the riches of to-day -are prudently stored for the morrow. - -The stercoraceous scent has carried the glad tidings half a mile -around; and all have hastened up to gather provisions. A few laggards -are still arriving, a-wing or on foot. - -Who is this that trots towards the heap, fearing lest he come too late? -His long legs move with a sudden, awkward action, as though driven by -some mechanism within his belly; his little red antennæ spread their -fan, a sign of anxious greed. He is coming, he has come, not without -sending some few banqueters sprawling. It is the Sacred Beetle, clad -all in black, the biggest and most famous of our Dung-beetles. Ancient -Egypt held him in veneration and looked upon him as a symbol of -immortality. Here he now sits at table, beside his fellow-guests, each -of whom is giving the last touches to his ball with the flat of his -broad fore-legs or else enriching it with yet one more layer before -retiring to enjoy the fruit of his labours in peace. Let us follow the -construction of the famous ball in all its phases. - -The shield, that is to say, the broad, flat edge of the head, is -notched with six angular teeth arranged in a semicircle. This -constitutes the tool for digging and separating, the rake that lifts -and casts aside the unnutritious vegetable fibres, goes for something -better, scrapes and collects it together. A choice is thus made, for -these dainty epicures differentiate between one thing and another: a -casual choice, if the Beetle be interested in his own provender, but a -most scrupulous choice, when it becomes a question of constructing the -maternal ball. - -For his own needs, the Beetle is less fastidious and contents himself -with a wholesale selection. The notched shield scoops and digs, -eliminates and gathers somewhat at random. The fore-legs play a mighty -part in the work. They are flattened, curved into the segment of a -circle, supplied with powerful nervures and armed on the outside with -five sturdy teeth. If a powerful effort be needed to remove an obstacle -or to force a way through the thickest part of the heap, the -Dung-beetle makes play with his elbows, that is to say, he flings his -toothed legs to right and left and clears a semi-circular space with a -vigorous thrust of the rake. Room once made, a different kind of work -is found for these same limbs: they collect armfuls of the material -raked together by the shield and push it under the insect’s belly, -between the four hind-legs. These are shaped for the turner’s trade. -The legs, especially the last two, are long and slender, slightly bowed -and ending in a very sharp claw. One has but to look at them to -recognize a pair of spherical compasses capable of embracing a globular -body in their curved branches and improving its form. In fact, their -mission is to shape the ball. - -Armful by armful, the material is heaped up under the belly, between -the four legs, which, by a slight pressure, impart their own curve to -it and give it a first fashion. Then, betweenwhiles, the rough-hewn -pill is set spinning betwixt the four branches of the two spherical -compasses; it turns under the Dung-beetle’s belly until it is rolled -into a perfect ball. Should the surface layer lack plasticity and -threaten to peel off, should some too-stringy part refuse to yield to -the action of the wheel, the fore-legs correct the faulty places; their -broad beaters pat the ball to give consistency to the new layer and to -imbed the recalcitrant scraps into the mass. - -Under a hot sun, when the work is urgent, one stands amazed at the -turner’s feverish activity. And thus the business proceeds apace: what -was but lately a scanty pellet is now a ball the size of a walnut; soon -it will be a ball the size of an apple. I have seen greedy-guts -manufacture a ball the size of one’s fist. Here, of a certainty, is -food in the larder for days to come! - -The provisions are made. The next thing is to withdraw from the fray -and carry the victuals to a fitting place. Here the most striking -characteristics of the Scarab begin to show themselves. The Dung-beetle -sets out without delay; he embraces the sphere with his two long -hind-legs, whose terminal claws, planted in the mass, serve as rotatory -pivots; he obtains a purchase with the middle pair of legs; and, using -the armlets of his fore-legs for leverage, he travels backwards with -his load, bending his body, with his head down and his hinder part in -the air. The hind-legs, the principal factor in the machinery, move -continually, coming and going, shifting the claws to change the axis of -rotation, maintain the equilibrium of the load and push it on by -alternate thrusts to right and left. In this way, the ball finds itself -touching the ground by turns with every point of its surface, a process -which perfects its shape and gives an even consistency to its outer -layer by means of pressure uniformly divided. - -And now, cheerily! It moves, it rolls; we shall get there, though not -without accident. Here is a first difficult step: the Beetle is wending -his way athwart a slope and the heavy mass tends to follow the incline; -but the insect, for reasons best known to itself, prefers to cut across -this natural road, a bold plan which a false step or a grain of sand -disturbing the balance may defeat. The false step is made; the ball -rolls to the bottom of the valley; and the insect, toppled over by the -impetus of its load, kicks about, gets up on its legs again and hastens -to harness itself once more. The mechanism is working better than ever. -But look out, you scatterbrain! Follow the dip of the valley: that will -save you labour and mishap; the road is good and level; your ball will -roll quite easily. Not a bit of it! The insect prepares once more to -mount the slope that was already its undoing. Perhaps it suits it to -return to the heights. Against that I have nothing to say: the Scarab’s -opinion is more far-seeing than mine as to the advisability of keeping -to lofty regions. But, at least, take this path, which will lead you up -by a gentle incline! Not at all! If he find himself near some very -steep slope, impossible to climb, that is what the obstinate fellow -prefers. And now begins a labour of Sisyphus. The ball, that enormous -burden, is painfully hoisted, step by step, with infinite precautions, -to a certain height, always backwards. I ask myself by what static -miracle so great a mass can be kept upon the slope. Oh! An ill-planned -movement frustrates all this toil: the ball comes down, dragging the -beetle with it! The escalade is repeated, soon to be followed by -another fall. The attempt is renewed, better-managed this time at the -difficult points; a confounded grass-root, the cause of the previous -tumbles, is carefully turned. We are almost there; but gently, gently! -The ascent is dangerous and a mere nothing may yet spoil all. For see, -a leg slips on a smooth bit of gravel! Down come ball and Dung-beetle, -all mixed up together. And the Beetle begins over again, with -indefatigable persistency. Ten times, a score of times, he will attempt -the thankless ascent, until his obstinacy vanquishes all obstacles, or -until, recognizing the uselessness of his efforts, he takes to the -level road. - -The Scarab does not always push his precious ball alone: sometimes he -takes a partner; or, to be accurate, the partner takes him. This is how -the thing usually happens: once his ball is ready, a Dung-beetle issues -from the crowd and leaves the work-yard, pushing his spoil behind him. -A neighbour, one of the newcomers, whose own task is hardly begun, -suddenly drops his work and runs to the ball now rolling, to lend a -hand to the lucky owner, who seems to accept the proffered aid kindly. -Henceforth, the two cronies work as partners. Each does his best to -push the pellet to a place of safety. Was a compact really concluded in -the work-yard, a tacit agreement to share the cake between them? While -one was kneading and moulding the ball, was the other tapping rich -veins whence to extract choice materials and add them to the common -store? I have never observed such a collaboration; I have always seen -each Dung-beetle occupied solely with his own affairs in the works. The -last-comer, therefore, has no acquired rights. - -Is it, then, a partnership between the two sexes, a couple intending to -set up house? I thought so for a time. The two beetles, one before, one -behind, pushing the heavy ball with equal zeal, reminded me of a song -which the barrel-organs used to grind out some years ago: - - - Pour monter notre menage, hélas! comment feront-nous? - Toi devant et moi derrière, nous pousserons le tonneau. [1] - - -The evidence of the scalpel compelled me to abandon this domestic -idyll. There is no outward difference between the two sexes in the -Dung-beetle. I, therefore, dissected the two beetles engaged in -conveying one and the same ball; and they often proved to belong to the -same sex. - -Neither community of family nor community of toil! Then what is the -motive for this apparent partnership? It is just simply an attempt at -robbery. The eager fellow-worker, under the deceitful pretence of -lending a helpful hand, nurses the scheme of purloining the ball at the -first opportunity. To make one’s own ball at the heap implies drudgery -and patience; to steal one ready-made, or at least to foist one’s self -as a guest, is a much easier matter. Should the owner’s vigilance -slacken, you can run away with the treasure; should you be too closely -watched, you can sit down to table uninvited, pleading services -rendered. It is, “Heads I win, tails you lose,” in these tactics, so -that pillage is exercised as one of the most lucrative of trades. Some -go to work craftily, in the way I have just described: they come to the -aid of a comrade who has not the least need of them and hide a most -indelicate greed under the cloak of charitable assistance. Others, -bolder perhaps, more confident in their strength, go straight to the -goal and commit robbery with violence. - -Scenes are constantly happening such as this: a Scarab walks off, -peacefully and alone, rolling his ball, his lawful property, acquired -by conscientious work. Another comes flying up, I know not whence, -drops down heavily, folds his smoky wings under their elytra and, with -the back of his toothed armlets, knocks over the owner, who is -powerless to ward off the attack in his harnessed posture. While the -dispossessed one struggles to his feet, the other perches himself atop -the ball, the best position from which to repel the assailant. With his -armlets folded under his breast, ready at all points, he awaits events. -The victim of the theft moves round the ball, seeking a favourable spot -at which to attempt the assault; the thief spins round on the roof of -the citadel, constantly facing him. If the first raise himself in order -to scale the wall, the second gives him a cuff that stretches him on -his back. Safe at the top of his fortress, the besieged Beetle would -baffle his adversary’s attempts indefinitely, if the latter did not -change his tactics to recover his property. Sapping is brought into -play to bring down the citadel with the garrison. The ball, shaken from -below, staggers and rolls, carrying with it the robber, who makes -violent efforts to maintain his position on the top. This he succeeds -in doing, though not always, thanks to hurried feats of gymnastics that -enable him to regain a level from which the rolling of his support -tends to drive him. Should a false movement bring him to the ground, -the chances become equal and the struggle turns into a wrestling-match. -Robber and robbed grapple at close quarters, breast to breast. Their -legs twist and untwist, their joints intertwine, their horny armour -clashes and grinds with the rasping sound of filed metal. Then that one -of the two who succeeds in throwing his adversary and releasing himself -hurriedly takes up a position on the top of the ball. The siege is -renewed, now by the robber, now by the robbed, as the chances of the -hand-to-hand conflict may have determined. The former, no doubt a hardy -filibuster and adventurer, often has the best of the fight. Then, after -two or three defeats, the ejected Beetle wearies and returns -philosophically to the heap, there to make himself a new pellet. As for -the other, with all fear of a surprise at an end, he harnesses himself -to the conquered ball and pushes it whither he pleases. I have -sometimes seen a third thief appear upon the scene and rob the robber. -Nor can I honestly say that I was sorry. - -I ask myself in vain what Proudhon [2] introduced into Beetle-morality -the daring paradox that “property is based on plunder,” or what -diplomatist taught Dung-beetles the savage maxim that “might is right.” -I have no facts whereby to trace the origin of these spoliations which -have become a custom, of this abuse of strength to capture a lump of -ordure. All that I can say is that theft is in general use among the -Scarab tribe. These Dung-rollers rob one another among themselves with -a calm effrontery of which I know no other instance. I leave it to -future observers to elucidate this curious problem in animal psychology -and I return to the two partners rolling their ball in concert. - -Let us call the two fellow-workers partners, although that is not the -proper name for them, seeing that the one forces himself upon the -other, who probably accepts outside help only for fear of a worse evil. -The meeting, however, is absolutely peaceful. The Beetle owning the -ball does not cease work for an instant at the arrival of his -assistant; and the newcomer seems animated by the best intentions and -sets to work on the spot. The way in which the two partners harness -themselves differs. The owner occupies the chief position, the place of -honour: he pushes behind the load, with his hind-legs in the air and -his head down. The assistant is in front, in the reverse position, head -up, toothed arms on the ball, long hind-legs on the ground. Between the -two, the ball rolls along, pushed before him by the first, dragged -towards him by the second. - -The efforts of the couple are not always very harmonious, the more so -as the helper has his back to the road to be traversed, while the -owner’s view is impeded by the load. Hence arise constant accidents, -absurd tumbles, taken cheerfully and in good part: each picks himself -up quickly and resumes the same position as before. On level ground, -this system of draught does not correspond with the dynamic force -expended, for lack of precision in the combined movements: the Scarab -at the back would do as well and better if left to himself. And so the -helper, after giving a proof of his good-will at the risk of disturbing -the mechanism, decides to keep still, without, of course, abandoning -the precious ball, which he already looks upon as his: finding is -keeping; a ball touched is a ball gained. He will commit no such -imprudence: the other might give him the slip! - -He, therefore, gathers his legs under his belly, flattens himself, -encrusts himself, so to speak, on the ball and becomes one with it. -Henceforth, the whole concern—ball and Beetle clinging to its -surface—rolls along, pushed by the lawful owner. Whether the load -passes over his body, whether he occupies the top, the bottom or the -side of the rolling burden matters little to the intruder, who sits -tight and lies low. A singular helper this, who has himself driven in a -carriage to secure his share of the victuals! - -But a steep ascent heaves in sight and gives him a fine part to play. -He now, on the stiff slope, takes the lead, holding the heavy mass with -his toothed arms, while his mate seeks a purchase to hoist the load a -little higher. Thus, by a combination of well-managed efforts, the one -above gripping, the one below pushing, I have seen them together mount -acclivities where the stubborn determination of one alone would have -come to naught. But not all have the same zeal at these difficult -moments: there are some who, on slopes where their assistance is most -needed, seem not in the least aware of the difficulties to overcome. -While the unhappy Sisyphus exhausts himself in endeavours to pass the -dangerous place, the other quietly leaves him to do his best and, -himself encrusted on the ball, rolls down with it, when it comes to -grief, and is hoisted up with it anew. - -Let us suppose the Scarab fortunate enough to have found a loyal -partner; or, better still, let us suppose that he has met no -self-invited colleague. The burrow is ready. It is a cavity dug in soft -earth, usually in sand, shallow, the size of one’s fist and -communicating with the outside by a short channel just large enough for -the passage of the ball. As soon as the provisions are safely housed, -the Scarab shuts himself in by stopping up the entrance to his dwelling -with rubbish reserved for the purpose in a corner. Once the door is -closed, no sign outside betrays the banqueting-hall. And, now, welcome -mirth and jollity! 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 and allows but a mild, moist heat to penetrate; the calm, the -darkness, the concert of the crickets overhead all favour the digestive -functions. So great has been my illusion that I have caught myself -listening at the door, expecting to hear the revellers burst into that -famous snatch from the opera of Galatée: [3] - - - Ah! qu’il est doux de ne rien faire - Quand tout s’agite autour de nous. [4] - - -Who would dare disturb the bliss of such a banquet? But the wish to -learn is capable of all things; and I had the courage. I will set down -here the result of my violations of the sanctity of domestic life: the -ball by itself fills almost the whole of the room; the rich repast -rises from floor to ceiling. A narrow passage runs between it and the -walls. Here sit the banqueters, two at most, very often but one, belly -to table, back to the wall. Once the seat is chosen, no one stirs; all -the vital forces are absorbed by the digestive faculties. No little -movements, which might cause the loss of a mouthful; no dainty toying -with the food, which might cause the waste of some. Everything has to -pass, properly and in order. To see them so pensively seated around a -ball of dung, one would think that they were aware of their task as -scavengers of the earth and that they consciously devoted themselves to -that marvellous chemistry which out of filth brings forth the flower, -the joy of our eyes, and the Beetles’ elytra, the ornament of our lawns -in spring. For the purpose of this transcendental work, which is to -turn into live matter the residue discarded by the horse and the mule, -despite the perfection of their digestive organs, the Dung-beetle must -needs be specially equipped. And, in point of fact, anatomy compels us -to admire the prodigious length of his intestine, which, folded and -refolded upon itself, slowly elaborates the materials in its profuse -circuits and exhausts them to the very last serviceable atom. From that -whence the stomach of the herbivorous animal has been able to extract -nothing, this powerful alembic wrings riches that, at a mere touch, -turn into ebon armour in the Sacred Scarab and a breast-plate of gold -and rubies in other Dung-beetles. - -Now this wonderful metamorphosis of ordure has to be accomplished in -the shortest possible time: the general health demands it. And so the -Scarab is endowed with matchless digestive powers. Once housed in the -company of food, day and night he will not cease eating and digesting -until the provisions be exhausted. It is easy, with a little practice, -to bring up the Scarab in captivity, in a volery. In this way, I -obtained the following evidence, which will tell us of the high -digestive capacity of the famous Dung-beetle. - -When the whole ball has been through the mill, the hermit reappears in -the light of day, seeks his fortune, finds it, shapes himself a new -ball and begins all over again. On a very hot, calm, sultry day—the -atmospheric conditions most favourable to the gastronomic enjoyments of -my anchorites—watch in hand, I observe one of the consumers in the open -air, from eight o’clock in the morning until eight o’clock at night. -The Scarab appears to have come across a morsel greatly to his taste, -for, during those twelve hours, he never stops feasting, remains -permanently at table, stationary at one spot. At eight o’clock in the -evening, I pay him a last visit. His appetite seems undiminished. I -find the glutton in as fine fettle as at the start. The banquet, -therefore, must have lasted some time longer, until the total -disappearance of the lump. Next morning, in fact, the Scarab is gone -and, of the fine piece attacked on the previous day, naught remains but -crumbs. - -Once round the clock and more, for a single sitting at table, is a fine -display of gormandizing in itself; but here is something much better by -way of rapidity of digestion. While, in front of the insect, the matter -is being continuously chewed and swallowed, behind it, with equal -continuity, the matter reappears, stripped of its nutritive particles -and spun into a little black cord, similar to a cobbler’s thread. The -Scarab never evacuates except at table, so quickly are his digestive -labours performed. The apparatus begins to work at the first few -mouthfuls; it ceases its office soon after the last. Without a break -from beginning to end of the meal and always hanging to the discharging -orifice, the thin cord is piled in a heap which is easy to unroll so -long as it is not dried up. - -The thing works with the regularity of a chronometer. Every minute, or, -rather, to be accurate, every four-and-fifty seconds, an eruption takes -place and the thread is lengthened by three to four millimetres. [5] At -long intervals, I employ the pincers, unfasten the cord and unroll the -heap along a graduated rule, to estimate the produce. The total -measurement for twelve hours is 2·88 metres. [6] As the meal and its -necessary complement, the work of the digestive apparatus, went on for -some time longer after my last visit, paid at eight o’clock in the -evening by the light of a lantern, it follows that my subject must have -spun an unbroken stercoraceous cord well over three yards in length. - -Given the diameter and the length of the thread, it is easy to -calculate its volume. Nor is it difficult to arrive at the exact volume -of the insect by measuring the amount of water which it displaces when -immersed in a narrow cylinder. The figures thus obtained are not -uninteresting: they tell us that, at a single festive sitting, in a -dozen hours, the Scarab digests very nearly its own volume in food. -What a stomach! And especially what a rapidity, what a power of -digestion! From the first mouthfuls, the residuum forms itself into a -thread that stretches, stretches out indefinitely as long as the meal -lasts. In that amazing laboratory, which perhaps never puts up its -shutters, unless it be when victuals are lacking, the material only -passes through, is worked upon at once by the reagents in the stomach -and at once exhausted. We may well believe that a crucible so quick to -purify dirt plays its part in the general hygiene. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE PEAR - - -A young shepherd, who had been told in his spare time to watch the -doings of the Sacred Beetle, came to me in high spirits, one Sunday, in -the second half of June, to say that he thought the time had come to -commence a search. He had detected the insect issuing from the ground, -had dug at the spot where it made its appearance and had found, at no -great depth, the queer thing which he was bringing me. - -Queer it was and calculated to upset the little which I thought I knew. -In shape, it was exactly like a tiny pear that had lost all the colour -of its freshness and turned brown in rotting. What could this curious -object be, this pretty plaything that seemed to come from a turner’s -workshop? Was it made by human hands? Was it a model of the fruit of -the pear-tree intended for some child’s collection? One would say so. - -The children come round me; they look at the treasure-trove with -longing eyes; they would like to add it to the contents of their -toy-box. It is much prettier in shape than an agate marble, much more -graceful than an ivory egg or a box-wood top. The material, it is true, -seems none too nicely chosen; but it is firm to the touch and very -artistically curved. In any case, the little pear discovered -underground must not go to swell the collection of nursery treasures -until we have found out more about it. - -Can it really be the Scarab’s work? Is there an egg inside it, a grub? -The shepherd assures me that there is. A similar pear, crushed by -accident in the digging, contained, he says, a white egg, the size of a -grain of wheat. I dare not believe it, so greatly does the object which -he has brought me differ from the ball which I expected to see. - -To open the puzzling “find” and ascertain its contents would perhaps be -imprudent: such an act of violence might jeopardize the life of the -germ enclosed, always provided that the Scarab’s egg be there, a matter -of which the shepherd seems convinced. And then, I imagine, the -pear-shape, opposed to every accepted idea, is probably accidental. Who -knows if chance has anything like it in store for me in the future? It -were wise to keep the thing as it is, to await events; above all, it -were wise to go in search of information on the spot. - -The shepherd was at his post by daybreak the next morning. I joined him -on some slopes that had been lately cleared of their trees, where the -hot summer sun, which strikes so powerfully on the neck, could not -reach us for two or three hours. In the cool air of morning, with the -flock browsing under the care of the sheep-dog, we went in search -together. - -Scarabæus’ burrow is soon found: it is recognizable by the recent -mole-hill that surmounts it. My companion digs with a vigorous wrist. I -have lent him my little pocket-trowel, the light, but workmanlike tool -which, incorrigible earth-scraper that I am, I seldom omit to take with -me when I go out. I lie down, the better to see the arrangement and -furnishing of the hypogeum in process of excavation; and I am all eyes. -The shepherd uses the trowel as a lever and, with his free hand, pushes -back the rubbish. - -Here we are! A cave opens out and, in the moist warmth of the yawning -vault, I see a splendid pear lying full-length upon the ground. I shall -certainly long remember this first revelation of the maternal work of -the Scarab. My excitement could have been no greater were I an -archæologist digging among the ancient relics of Egypt and lighting -upon the sacred insect of the dead, carved in emerald, in some -Pharaonic crypt. O blessed joys of truth suddenly shining forth, what -others are there to compare with you! The shepherd was in the seventh -heaven: he laughed in response to my smile and was happy in my -gladness. - -Luck does not repeat itself: “Non bis in idem,” says the old adage. And -here have I twice had under my eyes this curious shape of the pear. -Could it be the normal shape, not subject to exception? Must we abandon -all thought of a sphere similar to those which the insect rolls on the -ground? Let us continue and we shall see. A second hole is found. Like -the previous one, it contains a pear. The two discoveries are as like -as two peas; they might have issued from the same mould. And a valuable -detail is this: in the second burrow, beside the pear and lovingly -embracing it, is the mother Beetle, engaged, no doubt, in giving it the -finishing touches before leaving the underground cave for good. All -doubts are dispelled: I know the worker and I know the work. - -The rest of the morning confirmed these premisses to the full: before -an intolerable sun drove me from the slope explored, I possessed a -dozen pears identical in shape and almost in dimensions. On various -occasions, the mother was present in the workshop. - -Let me tell, to finish with this part of our subject, what the future -held in store for me. During the whole of the dog-days, from the end of -June until September, I renewed almost daily my visits to the spots -frequented by the Scarab; and the burrows dug up with my trowel -supplied me with an amount of evidence exceeding my fondest hopes. The -insects brought up in the volery supplied me with further documents, -though these, it is true, were rare and not to be compared with the -riches of the open fields. All told, at least some hundred nests passed -through my hands; and it was always the graceful shape of the pear, -never, absolutely never, the round shape of the pill, never the ball of -which the books tell us. - -And now let us unfold the authentic story, calling to witness none save -facts actually observed and reobserved. The Sacred Beetle’s nest is -betrayed on the outside by a heap of shifted earth, by a little -mole-hill formed of the superfluous rubbish which the mother, when -closing up the abode, has been unable to replace, as a part of the -excavation must be left empty. Under this heap is a shallow pit, about -two-fifths of an inch deep, followed by a horizontal gallery, either -straight or winding, which ends in a large hall, spacious enough to -hold a man’s fist. This is the crypt in which the egg lies wrapped in -food and subjected to the incubation of a burning sun, at a few inches -underground; this is the roomy workshop in which the mother, enjoying -full liberty of movement, has kneaded and shaped the future nursling’s -bread into a pear. - -This stercoral bread has its main axis lying in a horizontal position. -Its shape and size remind one exactly of those little poires de -Saint-Jean which, thanks to their bright colouring, their flavour and -their early ripeness, delight the children’s tribe. The bulk varies -within narrow limits. The largest dimensions are 45 millimetres in -length by 30 millimetres in width; [7] the smallest are 35 millimetres -by 28. [8] - -Without being as polished as stucco, the surface, which is absolutely -regular, is carefully smoothed under a thin layer of red earth. At -first, when of recent construction, soft as potter’s clay, the pyriform -loaf soon, in the course of desiccation, acquires a stout crust that -refuses to yield under the pressure of fingers. Wood itself is no -harder. This bark is the defensive wrapper which isolates the recluse -from this world and allows him to consume his victuals in profound -peace. But, should desiccation reach the central mass, then the danger -becomes extremely serious. We shall have occasion to return to the woes -of the grub exposed to a diet of too-stale bread. - -What dough does the Scarab’s bake-house use? Who are the purveyors? The -mule and the horse? By no means. And yet I expected to find it so—and -so would everybody—at seeing the insect draw so eagerly, for its own -use, upon the plentiful garner of an ordinary lump of dung. For that is -where it habitually manufactures the rolling ball which it goes and -consumes in some underground retreat. - -Whereas coarse bread, crammed with bits of hay, is good enough for the -mother, she becomes more dainty where her family are concerned. She now -wants fine pastry, rich in nourishment and easily digested; she now -wants the ovine manna: not that which the sheep of a dry habit scatters -in trails of black olives, but that which, elaborated in a less parched -intestine, is kneaded into biscuits all of a piece. That is the -material required, the dough exclusively used. It is no longer the poor -and stringy produce of the horse, but an unctuous, plastic, homogeneous -thing, soaked through and through with nourishing juices. Its -plasticity, its delicacy are admirably adapted to the artistic work of -the pear, while its alimentary qualities suit the weak stomach of the -newborn progeny. Little though the bulk be, the grub will here find -sufficient food. - -This explains the smallness of the alimentary pears, a smallness that -made me doubt the origin of my find, before I came upon the mother in -the presence of the provisions. I was unable to see in those little -pears the bill of fare of a future Sacred Beetle, himself so great a -glutton and of so remarkable a size. - -Where is the egg in that nutritive mass so novel in shape? One would be -inclined to place it in the centre of the fat, round paunch. This -central point is best-protected against accidents from the outside, -best-endowed with an even temperature. Besides, the budding grub would -here find a deep layer of food on every side of it and would not be -exposed to the mistakes of the first few mouthfuls. Everything being -alike on every side of it, it would not be called upon to choose; -wherever it chanced to apply its novice tooth, it could continue -without hesitation its first dainty repast. - -All this seemed so very reasonable that I allowed myself to be led away -by it. In the first pear which I explored, slender layer by slender -layer, with the blade of a penknife, I looked for the egg in the centre -of the paunch, feeling almost certain of finding it there. To my great -surprise, it was not there. Instead of being hollow, the centre of the -pear is full and consists of one continuous, homogeneous alimentary -mass. - -My deductions, which any observer in my place would certainly have -shared, seemed very reasonable; the Scarab, however, is of another way -of thinking. We have our logic, of which we are rather proud; the -Dung-kneader has hers, which is better than ours in this contingency. -She has her own foresight, her own discernment of things; and she -places her egg elsewhere. - -But where? Why, in the narrow part of the pear, in the neck, right at -the end. Let us cut this neck lengthwise, taking the necessary -precautions, so as not to damage the contents. It is hollowed into a -recess with polished and shiny walls. This is the tabernacle of the -germ, the hatching-chamber. The egg, which is very large in proportion -to the size of the layer, is a long white oval, about 10 millimetres in -length by 5 millimetres in its greatest width. [9] A slight empty space -separates it on all sides from the chamber-walls. There is no contact -with these walls, save at the rear end, which adheres to the top of the -recess. Lying horizontally, following the normal position of the pear, -the whole of it, excepting the point of attachment, rests upon an -air-mattress, most elastic and warmest of beds. Let us observe also -that the top of the nipple, instead of being smooth and compact like -the rest of the pear, is formed of a felt of particles of scrapings, -which allows the air sufficient access for the breathing-needs of the -egg. - -We are now informed. Let us next try to understand the Scarab’s logic. -Let us account for the necessity for the pear, that form so strange in -entomological industry; let us seek to explain the convenience of the -curious situation of the egg. It is dangerous, I know, to venture upon -the how and wherefore of things. We easily sink in this mysterious -domain where the moving soil gives way beneath the feet, swallowing the -foolhardy in the quicksands of error. Must we abandon such excursions, -because of the risk? Why should we? - -What does our science, so sublime compared with the frailty of our -means, so contemptible in the face of the boundless spaces of the -unknown, what does our science know of absolute reality? Nothing. The -world interests us only because of the ideas which we form of it. -Remove the idea and everything becomes sterile, chaos, empty -nothingness. An omnium-gatherum of facts is not knowledge, but at most -a cold catalogue which we must thaw and quicken at the fire of the -mind; we must introduce thought and the light of reason; we must -interpret. - -Let us adopt this course to explain the work of the Sacred Beetle. -Perhaps we shall end by attributing our own logic to the insect. After -all, it will be just as remarkable to see a wonderful agreement prevail -between that which reason dictates to us and that which instinct -dictates to the animal. - -A grave danger threatens the Sacred Beetle in its grub state: the -drying-up of the food. The crypt in which the larval life is spent has -a layer of earth, some third of an inch thick, for a ceiling. Of what -avail is this slender screen against the canicular heat that burns the -soil, baking it like a brick to a far greater depth? The grub’s abode -at such times acquires a scorching temperature; when I thrust my hand -into it, I feel the moist heat of a Turkish bath. - -The provisions, therefore, even though they have to last but three or -four weeks, are exposed to the risk of drying up before that time and -becoming uneatable. When, instead of the tender bread of the start, the -unhappy worm finds no food for its teeth but a repulsive crust, hard as -a pebble and unassailable, it is bound to perish of hunger. And it -does, in fact, so perish. I have found numbers of these victims of the -August sun who, after eating plentifully of the fresh victuals and -digging themselves a cell, had succumbed, unable to continue biting -into fare too hard for their teeth. There remained a thick shell, a -sort of closed oven, in which the poor wight lay baked and shrivelled -up. - -While the worm dies of hunger in the shell turned to stone by -desiccation, the full-grown insect that has finished its -transformations dies there too, for it is incapable of bursting the -enclosure and freeing itself. I shall return later to the final -delivery and will linger no more on this point. Let us occupy ourselves -solely with the woes of the worm. - -The drying-up of the victuals is, we say, fatal to it. This is proved -by the grubs found baked in their oven; it is also proved, in a more -precise fashion, by the following experiment. In July, the period of -active nidification, I place in wooden or cardboard boxes a dozen pears -dug up, that morning, from the native spot. These boxes, carefully -closed, are put away in the dark, in my study, where the same -temperature reigns as outside. Well, in none of them is the infant -reared: sometimes the egg shrivels; sometimes the worm is hatched, but -very soon dies. On the other hand, in tin boxes or glass receptacles, -things go very well: not one attempt at rearing fails. - -Whence do these differences arise? Simply from this: in the high -temperature of July, evaporation proceeds apace under the pervious -wooden or cardboard screen; the alimentary pear dries up and the poor -worm dies of hunger. In the impermeable tin boxes, in the -carefully-sealed glass receptacles, evaporation does not take place, -the provisions retain their softness and the grubs thrive as well as in -their native burrow. - -The insect employs two methods to ward off the danger of desiccation. -In the first place, it compresses the outer layer with all the strength -of its wide armlets, turning it into a protecting rind more homogeneous -and more compact than the central mass. If I smash one of these -well-dried boxes of preserves, the rind usually breaks off sharp and -leaves the kernel in the middle bare. The whole suggests the shell and -the almond of a filbert. The pressure exercised by the mother when -manipulating her pear has influenced the surface layer to a depth of a -few millimetres and from this results the rind; further down, the -pressure has not spread, whence proceeds the central kernel. In the hot -summer months, my housekeeper puts her bread into a closed pan, to keep -it fresh. This is what the insect does, in its fashion: by dint of -compression, it confines the bread of the family in a pan. - -The Sacred Beetle goes further still: she becomes a geometrician -capable of solving a fine problem of minimum values. All other -conditions remaining equal, the evaporation is obviously in proportion -to the extent of the evaporating surface. The alimentary mass must -therefore be given the smallest possible surface, in order by so much -to decrease the waste of moisture; nevertheless, this smallest surface -must unite the largest aggregate of nutritive materials, so that the -worm may find sufficient nourishment. Now which is the form that -encloses the greatest bulk within the smallest superficial area? -Geometry answers, the sphere. - -The Scarab, therefore, shapes the worm’s allowance into a sphere (we -will pass over the neck of the pear for the moment); and this round -form is not the result of blind mechanical conditions, imposing an -inevitable shape upon the workman; it is not the forcible effect of a -rolling along the ground. We have already seen that, with the object of -easier and swifter transit, the insect kneads the plunder which it -intends to consume at a distance into an exact ball, without moving it -from the spot at which it lies; in a word, we have observed that the -round form precedes the rolling. - -In the same way, it will be shown presently that the pear destined for -the worm is fashioned down in the burrow. It undergoes no process of -rolling, it is not even moved. The Scarab gives it the requisite -outline exactly as a modelling artist would do, shaping his clay under -the pressure of the thumb. - -Supplied with the tools which it possesses, the insect would be capable -of obtaining other forms of a less dainty curve than its pear-shaped -work. It could, for instance, make the coarse cylinder, the sausage in -use among the Geotrupes; simplifying the work to the utmost, it could -leave the morsel without any settled form, just as it happened to find -it. Things would proceed all the faster and would leave more time for -playing in the sun. But no: the Scarab adopts exclusively the sphere, -so difficult in its precision; she acts as though she knew the laws of -evaporation and geometry from A to Z. - -It remains for us to examine the neck of the pear. What can be its -object, its use? The reply forces itself upon us irresistibly. This -neck contains the egg, in the hatching-chamber. Now every germ, whether -of plant or animal, needs air, the primary stimulus of life. To admit -that vivifying combustible, the air, the shell of a bird’s egg is -riddled with an endless number of pores. The pear of the Sacred Beetle -may be compared with the egg of the hen. Its shell is the rind, -hardened by pressure, with a view to avoiding untimely desiccation; its -nutritive mass, its meat, its yolk is the soft ball sheltered under the -rind; its air-chamber is the terminal space, the cavity in the neck, -where the air envelopes the germ on every side. Where would that germ -be better off, for breathing, than in its hatching-chamber projecting -into the atmosphere and giving free play to the interchange of gases -through its thin and easily penetrable wall and especially through the -felt of scrapings that finishes the nipple? - -In the centre of the mass, on the other hand, aeration is not so easy. -The hardened rind does not possess the eggshell’s pores; and the -central kernel is formed of compact matter. The air enters it, -nevertheless, for presently the worm will be able to live in it, the -worm, a robust organism less difficult and nice than the first throbs -of life. - -These conditions, air and warmth, are so fundamental that no -Dung-beetle neglects them. The nutritive hoards vary in form, as we -shall have occasion to perceive: in addition to the pear, such shapes -as the cylinder, the ovoid, the pill and the thimble are adopted, -according to the species of the manipulator; but, amid this diversity -of outline, one feature of the first importance remains constant, which -is the egg lodged in a hatching-chamber close to the surface, providing -an excellent means for the easy access of air and warmth. And the most -gifted in this delicate art is the Sacred Beetle with her pear. - -I was urging just now that this first of Dung-kneaders behaved with a -logic that rivals our own. At the point to which we have come, the -proof of my statement is established. Nay, better still. Let us submit -the following problem to our leading scientific lights: a germ is -accompanied by a mass of victuals liable soon to be rendered useless by -desiccation. How should the alimentary mass be shaped? Where should the -egg be laid so as to be easily influenced by air and warmth? - -The first question of the problem has already been answered. Knowing -that evaporation is in proportion to the extent of the evaporating -surface, science declares that the victuals shall be arranged in a -ball, because the spherical form is that which encloses the greatest -amount of material within the smallest surface. As for the egg, since -it requires a protecting sheath to avoid any harmful contact, it shall -be contained within a thin, cylindrical case; and this case shall be -implanted on the sphere. - -Thus the requisite conditions are fulfilled: the provisions, gathered -into a ball, keep fresh; the egg, protected by its slender, cylindrical -sheath, receives the influence of air and warmth without impediment. -The strictly needful has been obtained; but it is very ugly. The -practical has not troubled about the beautiful. - -An artist corrects the brute work of reason. He replaces the cylinder -by a semi-ellipsoid, of a much prettier form; he joins this ellipsoid -to the sphere by means of a graceful curved surface; and the whole -becomes the pear, the necked gourd. It is now a work of art, a thing of -beauty. - -The Scarab does exactly what the laws of æsthetics dictate to -ourselves. Can she, too, have a sense of beauty? Is she able to -appreciate the elegance of her pear? Certainly, she does not see it: -she manipulates it in profound darkness. But she touches it. A poor -touch hers, rudely clad in horn, yet not insensible, after all, to -nicely-drawn outlines! - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE MODELLING - - -How does the Scarab obtain the maternal pear? It is certain, to begin -with, that this is in no wise shaped by the mechanism of conveyance -along the ground: the shape is incompatible with a rolling in every -direction, at haphazard. We might accept that for the belly of the -gourd; but the neck, the ellipsoid nipple, hollowed into a -hatching-chamber! This delicate work could never result from violent, -unmeasured jerks. The goldsmith’s jewel is not hammered on the -blacksmith’s anvil. Together with other reasons, all good in evidence, -already quoted, the pear-shaped outline delivers us, I hope, once and -for all, from the antiquated belief that placed the egg inside a -roughly-jolted ball. - -To produce his masterpiece, the sculptor retires to his den. Even so -the Sacred Beetle. She shuts herself down in her crypt, to model, in -contemplative seclusion, the materials introduced. Two opportunities -offer for obtaining the block to be worked. In the one case, the Scarab -gathers from the heap, according to the method which we know, a choice -block, which is kneaded into a ball on the spot and which is already -spherical before it is set in motion. Were it only a question of -provisions intended for her own meals, she would never act otherwise. - -When she thinks the ball of sufficient bulk, if the place do not suit -her wherein to dig the burrow, she sets out with her rolling burden, -walking at random till she lights upon a favourable spot. During the -journey, the ball, without improving upon the perfect sphere which it -was at the start, hardens a little on the surface and becomes encrusted -with earth and little grains of sand. This earthy rind, picked up on -the road, is an authentic sign of a more or less long excursion. The -detail is not without importance; it will serve us presently. - -Less frequently, the spot close to the heap whence the block has been -extracted satisfies the insect as suitable for the excavation of the -burrow. The soil is free from pebbles and easy to dig. Here, no journey -is necessary, nor, therefore, any ball convenient for transit. The soft -biscuit of the sheep is gathered and stored as found and enters the -workshop a shapeless mass, either in one piece, or, if need be, in -different lumps. - -This case occurs seldom in the natural state, because of the coarseness -of the ground, which abounds with broken stones. Sites practicable for -easy digging are few and far between and the insect has to roam about, -with its burden, to find them. In my voleries, on the other hand, where -the earthy layer has been purged with the sieve, it is the usual case. -Here the earth is easy to dig at any point; wherefore the mother, -working for her laying, is content to lower the nearest morsel -underground, without giving it any definite shape. - -Whether the storing without preliminary ball or conveyance be achieved -in the fields or in my voleries, the final result is most striking. One -day, I see a shapeless lump disappear into the crypt. The next day, or -the day after, I visit the workshop and find the artist face to face -with her work. The uncouth mass of the start, the loose shreds -introduced by armfuls have become a pear of perfect accuracy and -conscientious finish. - -The artistic object bears the marks of its method of manufacture. The -part that rests upon the bottom of the cavity is crusted over with -earthy particles; all the rest is of a glossy polish. Owing to its -weight, owing also to the pressure exercised when the Scarab -manipulates it, the pear, which is still quite soft, has become soiled -with grains of earth on the side that touches the floor of the -workshop; on the remainder, which is the larger part, it retains the -delicate finish which the insect was able to give it. - -The inferences to be drawn from these minutely-observed details are -obvious: the pear is no turner’s work; it has not been obtained by any -sort of rolling on the ground of the spacious studio, for then it would -have been soiled with earth all over. Besides, its projecting neck -precludes this mode of fabrication. It has not even been turned from -one side to the other, as is loudly proclaimed by its unblemished upper -surface. The Scarab, therefore, has moulded it where it lies, without -turning or shifting it in any way; she has modelled it with little taps -of her broad battledores, just as when we saw her model her ball in the -daylight. - -Let us now return to the usual case, in the open. The materials then -come from a distance and are introduced into the burrow in the form of -a ball covered with soil on every part of its surface. What will the -insect do with this sphere which contains the paunch of the future pear -ready-made? The answer would present no serious difficulty if, limiting -my ambition to the results obtained, I sacrificed the means employed. -It would be enough for me, as I have often done, to capture the mother -in her burrow with her ball and carry one and all home, to my animal -laboratory, to watch events at first hand. - -A large glass jar is filled with earth, sifted, moistened and heaped to -the desired depth. I place the mother and her beloved pill, which she -holds embraced, on the surface of this artificial soil. I stow away the -apparatus in a half-light and wait. My patience is not very long tried. -Urged by the labour of the ovaries, the insect resumes its interrupted -work. - -In certain cases, I see it, still on the surface, destroying its ball, -ripping it up, cutting it to pieces, shredding it. This is not in the -least the act of one in despair who, finding herself a captive, breaks -the cherished object in her bewilderment. It is an act of wise -hygienics. A scrupulous inspection of the morsel gathered in haste, -among lawless competitors, is often necessary, for supervision is not -always easy on the harvesting-spot itself, in the midst of thieves and -robbers. The ball may contain a blend of little Onthophagi, of -Aphodians, which have not been noticed in the heat of acquisition. - -These involuntary intruders, finding themselves very comfortable in the -heart of the mass, would themselves make good use of the contemplated -pear, much to the detriment of the legitimate consumer. The ball must -be purged of this starveling brood. The mother, therefore, destroys it, -reduces it to atoms, scrutinizes it. Then, out of the collected -remnants, the ball is remade, stripped of its earthy rind. It is -dragged underground and becomes an immaculate pear, always excepting -the surface touching the soil. - -Oftener still, the ball is thrust by the mother into the earth of the -jar just as I took it from the burrow, with the wrinkled covering which -it acquired in rolling across country during the journey from the place -where it was found to the spot where the insect intended to use it. In -that case, I find it at the bottom of my jar converted into a pear, -itself wrinkled and encrusted with earth and sand over the whole of its -surface, thus proving that the pear-shaped outline has not demanded a -general recasting of the mass, inside as well as out, but has been -obtained by simple pressure and by drawing out the neck. - -This is how, in the vast majority of cases, things happen in the normal -state. Almost all the pears which I dig up in the fields are crusted, -unpolished, some more, others less. If we put on one side the -inevitable encrustations due to the carting across fields, these -blemishes would seem to point to a prolonged rolling in the interior of -the subterranean manor. The few which I find perfectly smooth, -especially those wonderfully neat specimens furnished by my voleries, -dispel this mistake entirely. They show us that, with materials -collected near at hand and stored away unshaped, the pear is modelled -wholly without rolling; they prove to us that, where the others are -concerned, the earthy wrinkles of the rind are not the signs of a -rolling manipulation at the bottom of the workshop, but simply the -marks of a fairly long journey on the surface of the ground. - -To be present at the construction of the pear is no easy matter: the -sombre artist obstinately refuses to do any work as soon as the light -reaches her. She needs absolute darkness for her modelling; and I need -light if I would see her at work. It is impossible to unite the two -conditions. Let us try, nevertheless; let us seize by fragments the -truth which hides itself in its fulness. - -The arrangements made are as follows: I once more take the large glass -jar. I cover the bottom with a layer of earth a few inches in -thickness. To obtain the transparent workshop necessary for my -observations, I fix a tripod on the earthy layer and, on this support, -a decimetre [10] high, I place a round deal slab of the same diameter -as the jar. The glass-walled chamber thus marked out will represent the -roomy crypt in which the insect works. In the edge of the deal slab, a -hollow is cut, large enough to permit of the passage of the Sacred -Beetle and her ball. Lastly, above this screen, I heap a layer of earth -as deep as the jar allows. - -During the operation, a portion of the upper earth falls through the -opening and slips down to the lower space in a wide inclined plane. -This was a circumstance which I had foreseen and which was -indispensable to my plan. By means of this slope, the artist, when she -has found the communicating trap-door, will make for the transparent -den which I have arranged for her. She will make for it, of course, -only provided that she be in perfect darkness. I therefore contrive a -cardboard cylinder, closed at the top, and place the glass apparatus -inside it. Left standing where it is, the opaque sheath will provide -the dusk which the Scarab demands; suddenly raised, it will give the -light which I require on my side. - -Things being thus arranged, I go in search of a mother lately removed -from her natural lodging with her ball. A morning is enough to provide -me with what I need. I place the mother and her ball on the surface of -the upper layer of earth; I cap the apparatus with its cardboard -sheath; and I wait. The insect, stubborn at its work so long as the egg -is not deposited, will dig itself a new burrow, dragging its ball with -it as it goes; it will pass through the upper layer of earth, which is -not sufficiently thick; it will come upon the deal board, an obstacle -similar to the broken stones that often bar its passage in the course -of its normal excavations; it will investigate the cause of the -impediment and, finding the opening, will descend through this -trap-door to the lower compartment, which, being free and roomy, will -represent to the insect the crypt whence I have just removed it. Thus -prophesies my foresight. But all this takes time; and I must wait for -the morrow to satisfy my impatient curiosity. - -The hour has come: let us go and see. The study-door was left open -yesterday: the mere sound of the door-handle might stop my distrustful -worker. By way of greater precaution, before entering, I put on silent -slippers. And——whoosh! The cylinder is removed. Capital! My -expectations are fully justified. - -The Scarab occupies the glazed workshop. I catch her at work, with her -broad foot laid on the rough sketch of the pear. But, startled by the -sudden light, she remains motionless, as though petrified. This lasts a -few seconds. Then she turns her back upon me and awkwardly ascends the -inclined plane, to reach the darkling heights of her gallery. I give a -glance at the work, take note of its shape, its position and its -aspect, and restore darkness with the cardboard sheath. Let us not -prolong the indiscretion, if we would renew the test. - -My sudden, brief visit gives us a first insight into the mysterious -work. The ball, at first exactly spherical, now has a stout pad -circumscribing a sort of shallow crater. The work reminds me, in -greatly reduced proportions, of certain prehistoric pots, with round -bellies, thick lips around the mouth and a neck strangled by a narrow -groove. This rude outline of a pear tells us of the insect’s method, a -method identical with that of Pleistoscene man ignorant of the potter’s -wheel. - -The plastic ball, girt with a circle at one end, has been hollowed out -in a groove, the starting-point of the neck; it has, moreover, been -drawn out a little into an obtuse projection. In the centre of this -projection, a pressure has been effected, which, causing the matter to -fall back over the edges, has produced the crater, with its shapeless -lips. Circular enlacement and pressure have sufficed for this first -part of the work. - -Towards evening, I pay a fresh sudden visit, amid complete silence. The -insect has recovered from its excitement of the morning and gone down -again to its workshop. Flooded with light and baffled by the strange -events to which my artifices give rise, it at once makes off and takes -refuge in the upper storey. The poor mother, persecuted by my -illuminations, runs up into the thick of the darkness, but regretfully, -with hesitating strides. - -The work has progressed. The crater has become deeper; the thick lips -have disappeared, are thinner, closer together, drawn out into the neck -of a pear. The object, however, has not changed its place. Its -position, its aspect are exactly as I noted them before. The side that -lay on the ground is still at the bottom, at the same point; the side -that faced upwards is still at the top; the crater that lay on my right -has been replaced by the neck, still on my right. Whence comes a -conclusion completely confirming my previous statements: no rolling; -mere pressure, which kneads and moulds. - -The next day, a third visit. The pear is finished. Its neck, yesterday -a yawning sack, is now closed. The egg, therefore, is laid; the work -has been carried through and demands only the finishing touches of -general polishing, touches upon which the mother, so intent on -geometrical perfection, was doubtless engaged at the time when I -disturbed her. - -The most delicate part of the affair escapes my observation. I see -quite clearly, in the main, how the hatching-chamber of the egg is -obtained: the thick pad surrounding the original crater is thinned and -flattened out under the pressure of the feet and lengthened into a sack -the mouth of which gradually narrows. Up to this point, the work -provides its own explanation. But we have no explanation of the -exquisite perfection of the cell wherein the egg is to hatch, when we -think of the insect’s rigid tools, the wide, toothed armlets whose -jerky awkwardness suggests the spasmodic movements of an automaton. - -With this clumsy equipment, excellently adapted to coarse work though -it be, how does the Scarab obtain the natal dwelling, the oval nest so -daintily polished and glazed within? Does the foot, a regular saw, -fitted with enormous teeth, begin to rival the painter’s brush in -delicacy from the moment when it is inserted through the narrow orifice -of the sack? Why not? I have said elsewhere and this is the occasion to -repeat it: the tool does not make the workman. The insect exerts its -gifts as a specialist with any kind of tool wherewith it is supplied. -It can saw with a plane or plane with a saw, like the model workman of -whom Franklin tells us. The same strong-toothed rake with which the -Sacred Beetle rips the earth is used by her as a trowel and brush -wherewith to glaze the stucco of the chamber in which the grub will be -born. - -In conclusion, one more detail concerning this hatching-chamber. At the -extreme end of the neck of the pear, one point is always pretty clearly -distinguished: it bristles with stringy fibres, while the rest of the -neck is carefully polished. This is the plug with which the mother has -closed the narrow opening after placing the egg; and this plug, as its -hairy structure shows, has not been subjected to the pressure which, -throughout the rest of the work, crams the smallest projecting scrap -into the mass and causes it to disappear. - -Why this arrangement at the extreme pole, a very curious exception, -when every elsewhere the pear has received the powerful blows of the -insect’s foot? The hind-end of the egg rests against this plug, which, -were it pressed down and driven in, would transmit the pressure to the -germ and imperil its safety. The mother, aware of the risk, blocks up -the hole without ramming the stopper: the air in the hatching-chamber -is thus more easily renewed; and the egg escapes the dangerous -concussion of the compressing paddle. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE GRUB, THE METAMORPHOSIS, THE HATCHING-CHAMBER - - -The hatching-chamber is an oval recess about one centimetre [11] in -diameter. The egg is fixed at the bottom of this recess. It is -cylindrical in shape, rounded at both ends, yellowish-white in colour -and having nearly the bulk of a grain of wheat, but shorter. The inner -wall of the recess is plastered with a greenish-brown matter, shiny, -half-fluid, a real cream destined to form the first mouthfuls of the -grub. In order to produce this delicate fare, does the mother select -the quintessence of the ordure? The appearance of the mess tells me -differently and assures me that it is a broth elaborated in the -maternal stomach. The Pigeon softens the corn in her crop and turns it -into a sort of milk-diet which she afterwards disgorges for her brood. -The Dung-beetle has the same fond ways: she half-digests selected -viands and disgorges them as a fine pap, with which she hangs the walls -of the nest wherein her egg is laid. In this manner, the grub, when -hatched, finds an easily-digested food that soon strengthens its -stomach and allows it to attack the underlying layers, which are less -daintily prepared. - -A progressive change of diet is here made manifest. On leaving the egg, -the feeble little grub licks the fine sop on the walls of its lodging. -There is not much of it, but it is strengthening and possesses a high -nourishing value. The pap of tender childhood is followed by the -pottage of the weaned nursling. - -The time has come for a sight stranger than any yet displayed to me by -the mechanical daring of the insect. Anxious to observe the grub in the -intimacy of its home, I open in the belly of the pear a little -peep-hole half a centimetre square. The head of the recluse at once -appears in the opening, to enquire what is happening. The breach is -perceived. The head disappears. I can just see the white chine turning -about in the narrow cabin; and, then and there, the window which I have -contrived is closed with a soft, brown paste, which soon hardens. - -The inside of the cabin, said I to myself, is no doubt a semi-fluid -porridge. Turning upon itself, as is shown by the sudden slide of the -back, the grub has collected an armful of this material and, completing -the circuit, has stuck its load, by way of mortar, in the breach -considered dangerous. I remove the closing plug. The grub acts as -before, puts its head at the window, withdraws it, spins round upon -itself like a fruit-stone slipping in its shell and forthwith produces -a second plug as ample as the first. Forewarned of what was coming, -this time I saw more clearly. - -What a mistake was mine! I am not too greatly thunderstruck, however: -in the exercise of its defensive skill, the animal often employs -methods which our imagination would not dare to contemplate. It is not -the head that is presented at the breach, after the preliminary -twisting: it is the opposite extremity. The grub does not bring an -armful of its alimentary dough, gathered by scraping the walls: it -excretes upon the aperture to be closed; a much more economical -proceeding. Sparingly measured out, the rations must not be wasted: -there is just enough to live upon. Besides, the cement is of better -quality; it soon sets. Lastly, the urgent repairs are more quickly -effected, if the intestines lend their kindly aid. - -They do, in point of fact, and to an astonishing degree. Five, six -times in succession and oftener, I remove the fixed plug; and, time -after time, the mortar discharges a copious ejaculation from its -apparently inexhaustible reservoir, which is ever at the mason’s -service, without an interval for rest. The grub is already beginning to -resemble the Sacred Beetle, whose stercoral prowess we know: it is a -past master in the art of dunging. It possesses above any other animal -in the world an intestinal deftness which anatomy will undertake to -explain to us, partly, later on. - -The plasterer and the mason have their trowels. In the same way, the -grub, that zealous repairer of breaches made in its home, has a trowel -of its own. The last segment is lopped off slantwise, and carries on -its dorsal surface a sort of inclined plane, a broad disk surrounded by -a fleshy pad. In the middle of the disk is a gash, forming the -cementing-aperture. Behold the fair-sized trowel, flattened out and -supplied with a rim to prevent the compressed matter from flowing away -in useless waste. - -As soon as the plastic gush is laid down in a lump, the levelling and -compressing instrument sets to work to introduce the cement well into -the irregularities of the breach, to push it right through the -thickness of the ruined portion, to give it consistency, to level it. -After this stroke of the trowel, the grub turns round: it comes and -bangs and pushes the work with its wide forehead and improves it with -the tip of its mandibles. Wait a quarter of an hour and the repaired -portion will be as firm as the rest of the shell, so quickly does the -cement set. Outside, the repairs are betrayed by the rough prominence -of the material forced outwards, which remains inaccessible to the -trowel; but, inside, there is no trace of the breakage: the usual -polish has been restored at the injured spot. A plasterer stopping a -hole in a wall in our rooms could produce no better piece of work. - -Nor do the worm’s talents end here. With its cement, it becomes a -mender of pots and pans. Let me explain. I have compared the outside of -the pear, which, when pressed and dried, becomes a strong shell, with a -jar containing fresh food. In the course of my excavations, sometimes -made on difficult soil, I have happened occasionally to break this jar -with an ill-directed blow of the trowel. I have collected the -potsherds, pieced them together, after restoring the worm to its place, -and kept the whole thing in one by wrapping it in a bit of old -newspaper. - -On reaching home, I have found the pear put out of shape, no doubt, and -seamed with scars, but just as solid as ever. During the walk, the grub -had restored its ruined dwelling to condition. Cement injected into the -cracks joined the pieces together; inside, a thick plastering -strengthened the inner wall, so much so that the repaired shell was -quite as good as the untouched shell, but for the irregularity of the -outside. In its artistically-mended stronghold, the worm found the -peace essential to its existence. - -Let us now give a brief description of the grub, without stopping to -enumerate the articulations of the palpi and antennæ, irksome details -of no immediate interest. It is a fat worm and has a fine, white skin, -with pale slate-coloured reflections proceeding from the digestive -organs, which are visible transparently. Bent into a broken arch or -hook, it is not unlike the grub of the Cockchafer, but has a much more -ungainly figure, for, on its back, at the sudden bend of the hook, the -third, fourth and fifth segments of the abdomen swell into an enormous -protuberance, a tumour, a pouch so prominent that the skin seems on the -point of bursting under the pressure of the contents. This is the -animal’s most striking feature: the fact that it carries a wallet. - -The head is small in proportion to the size of the grub, slightly -convex and bright red, studded with a few pale bristles. The legs are -fairly long and sturdy, ending in a pointed tarsus. The grub does not -use them as limbs of progression. Taken from its shell and placed upon -the table, it struggles in clumsy contortions without succeeding in -shifting its position; and the cripple betrays its anxiety by repeated -eruptions of its mortar. - -Let us also mention the terminal trowel, the last segment lopped into a -slanting disk and rimmed with a fleshy pad. In the centre of this -inclined plane is the open stercoral gash, which thus, by a very -unusual inversion, occupies the upper surface. An enormous hump and a -trowel: that gives you the animal in two words. - -We must not finish the history of the grub without saying a few words -on its internal structure. Anatomy will show us the works wherein the -cement employed in so original a manner is manufactured. The stomach or -chylific ventricle is a long, thick cylinder, starting from the -creature’s neck after a very short gullet. It measures about three -times the length of the animal. In its last quarter, it carries a -voluminous lateral pouch distended by the food. This is a subsidiary -stomach in which the supplies are stored so as to yield their nutritive -principles more thoroughly. The chylific ventricle is much too long to -lie straight in the grub’s bowels and bends back upon itself, in front -of its appendix, in the form of a large loop occupying the dorsal -surface. It is to contain this loop and the lateral pouch that the back -is swollen into a protuberance. The grub’s wallet is, therefore, a -second paunch, an annexe, as it were, of the stomach, which is itself -incapable of holding the voluminous digestive apparatus. Four very -fine, very long tubulures, irregularly entwined, four Malpighian -vessels mark the limits of the chylific ventricle. - -Next comes the intestine, narrow, cylindrical, rising forwards. The -intestine is followed by the rectum, which pushes backwards. This -latter, which is of exceptional size and fitted with powerful walls, is -wrinkled across, bloated and distended by its contents. Here is the -roomy warehouse in which the scoriæ of the digestion accumulate; here -is the mighty ejaculator, always ready to provide cement. - -The grub gets bigger as it eats the wall of its house from the inside. -Little by little, the belly of the pear is scooped out into a cell -whose capacity grows in proportion to the growth of the inhabitant. -Ensconced in its hermitage, furnished with board and lodging, the -recluse waxes stout and fat. What more does it want? - -In four or five weeks, the complete development is obtained. The -apartment is ready. The worm sheds its skin and becomes a chrysalis. -There are very few in the entomological world to vie in sober beauty -with the tender creature which, with its wing-cases laid in front of it -like a wide-creased scarf and its fore-legs folded under its head, as -when the full-grown Scarab counterfeits death, suggests the idea of a -mummy maintained by its bandages in a sacerdotal pose. Semi-translucent -and honey-yellow, it looks as though it were cut from a block of amber. -Imagine it hardened in this state, mineralized, made incorruptible: it -would be a splendid topaz jewel. - -In this marvel, so severe and dignified in shape and colouring, one -point above all captivates me and gives me at last the solution of a -far-reaching problem. Are the front-legs furnished with a tarsus, yes -or no? This is the great business that makes me forget the jewel for -the sake of a structural detail. Let us then return to a subject that -excited me in my early days; for the answer has come at last, late, it -is true, but certain and indisputable. - -By a very strange exception, the full-grown Sacred Beetle and his -congeners are without front tarsi; they lack on their fore-legs that -five-jointed finger which is the rule among the highest division of -Coleoptera, the Pentamera. The other limbs, on the contrary, follow the -common law and possess a very well-shaped tarsus. Is the formation of -the toothed armlets original or accidental? - -At first sight, an accident seems probable enough. The Scarab is a -strenuous miner and a great pedestrian. Always in contact with the -rough soil, whether in walking or digging; used, moreover, for constant -leverage when the insect is rolling its ball backwards, the fore-legs -are much more exposed than the others to the danger of spraining and -twisting their delicate finger, of putting it out of joint, of losing -it entirely, from the very first moment when the work begins. - -Lest this explanation should appeal to any of my readers, I will hasten -to undeceive them. The absence of the front fingers is not the result -of an accident. The proof of what I say lies here, under my eyes, -without the possibility of a rejoinder. I examine the nymph’s legs with -the magnifying-glass: those in front have not the least vestige of a -tarsus; the toothed limb ends bluntly, without a trace of a terminal -appendage. In the others, on the contrary, the tarsus is as distinct as -possible, notwithstanding the shapeless, gnarled condition due to the -swaddling-bands and the humours of the chrysalis state. It suggests a -finger swollen with chilblains. - -If the evidence of the nymph were not sufficient, there would be that -of the perfect insect which, casting its rejected mummy-clothes and -moving for the first time in its shell, wields fingerless armlets. The -fact, therefore, is established for certain: the Sacred Beetle is born -maimed; his mutilation dates from his birth. - -“Very well,” reply our fashionable theorists, “the Sacred Beetle is -mutilated from the start; but his remote ancestors were not. They were -formed according to the general rule, they were correct in structure -down to this slight digital detail. There were some who, in the course -of their rude task as diggers and rollers, wore out that delicate, -cumbrous, useless member; and, finding themselves better equipped for -their work by this accidental amputation, they bequeathed it to their -successors, to the great benefit of the race. The present insect -profits by the improvement obtained by a long array of ancestors, and, -acting under the stimulus of vital competition, gives permanence to an -advantageous condition due to chance.” - -O ingenuous theorists, so triumphant on paper, so vain in the face of -reality, listen to me for yet one moment more! If the loss of the front -fingers be a fortunate thing for the Sacred Beetle, who faithfully -hands down the leg of yore fortuitously maimed, why should it not be so -with the other members, if they too happened to lose by chance their -terminal appendage, a small, powerless filament, almost utterly -unserviceable, and, owing to its delicacy, a cause of grievous -conflicts with the roughness of the soil? - -The Sacred Beetle is not a climber, but an ordinary pedestrian, -supporting himself upon the point of an iron-shod stick, by which I -mean the stout spine or prickle wherewith the tip of the leg is armed. -He does not have to hold on by his claws to some hanging branch, as -does the Cockchafer. And it would therefore, meseems, be entirely to -his advantage to rid himself of the four remaining fingers, projecting -sideways, idle on the march, inactive in the construction and carriage -of the ball. Yes, that would mean progress, for the simple reason that -the less hold one gives to the enemy the better. It remains to be seen -if chance ever produces this state of things. - -It does and very often. At the end of the fine season, in October, when -the insect has worn itself out in digging, in carrying balls and in -modelling pears, the maimed, the victims of work, form the great -majority. I see them, both in my voleries and outside, displaying every -degree of amputation. Some have lost the finger on their four hind-legs -altogether; others retain a stump, a couple of joints, a single joint; -those which are least damaged have a few members left intact. - -This is certainly the mutilation pleaded by the theorists. And it is no -accident, occurring at long intervals: every year, the cripples -outnumber the others at the time when the winter-season is at hand. In -their final labours, they seem no more embarrassed than those who have -been spared by the trials of life. On both sides, I find the same -quickness of movement, the same dexterity in kneading the -ammunition-bread which will enable them to bear the first rigours of -winter philosophically underground. In the scavenger’s work, the maimed -vie with the others. - -And these cripples form a race; they spend the bad season underground; -they wake up in the spring, return to the surface and take part, for a -second, sometimes even for a third time, in life’s great festival. -Their descendants ought to profit by an improvement which has been -renewed year by year, ever since Scarabs came into the world, and which -has certainly had time to become fixed and to convert itself into a -settled habit. But they do nothing of the sort. Every Sacred Beetle -that breaks his shell, with not one exception, is endowed with the four -tarsi prescribed by rule. - -Well, theorists, what say you to that? For the two front legs, you -offer a sort of an explanation; and the four others contradict you -flatly. Have you not been taking fancy for truth? - -Then what is the cause of the original mutilation of the Scarab? I will -confess plainly that I know nothing at all about it. Nevertheless, -those two maimed members are very strange: so strange, in the endless -order of insects, that they have exposed the masters, the greatest -masters, to lamentable blunders. Let us listen first to Latreille, [12] -the prince of descriptive entomologists. In his account of the insects -which ancient Egypt painted or carved upon her monuments, [13] he -quotes the writings of Horapollo, an unique document which has been -preserved for us in the papyri for the glorification of the sacred -insect: - - - “One would feel tempted at first,” he says, “to set down as fiction - what Horapollo says of the number of that Scarab’s fingers. - According to him, there are thirty. Nevertheless, this computation, - judged by the way in which he looks at the tarsus, is perfectly - correct, for this part consists of five joints; and, if we take - each of them for a finger, the legs being six in number and each - ending in a five-jointed tarsus, the Sacred Beetles obviously have - thirty fingers.” - - -Forgive me, illustrious master: the total number of joints is but -twenty, because the two front legs are devoid of tarsi. You have been -carried away by the general law. Losing sight of the singular -exception, which was certainly known to you, you said thirty, swayed -for a moment by that overwhelmingly positive law. Yes, the exception -was known to you, so much so that the figure of the Sacred Beetle -accompanying your account, a figure drawn from the insect and not from -the Egyptian monuments, is irreproachably accurate: it has no tarsi on -its fore-legs. The blunder is excusable, in view of the strangeness of -the exception. - -What did Horapollo himself see? Apparently what we see in our day. If -Latreille’s explanation be right, as everything seems to denote, if the -Egyptian author began by counting thirty fingers according to the -number of joints in the tarsi, it is because his enumeration was based -in his mind upon the facts of the general situation. He was guilty of a -mistake which was not very reprehensible, seeing that, some thousand -years later, masters like Latreille and Mulsant were guilty of it in -their turn. The only culprit in all this business is the exceptional -structure of the insect. - -“But,” I may be asked, “why should not Horapollo have seen the exact -truth? Perhaps the Scarab of his century had tarsi which the insect -does not possess to-day. In that case, it has been altered by the -patient work of time.” - -Before answering this evolutionary objection, I will wait for some one -to show me a natural Scarab of Horapollo’s date. The hypogea which so -religiously guard the cat, the ibis and the crocodile must also contain -the sacred insect. All that I have at my disposal is a few figures -representing the Sacred Beetle as we find him engraved on the monuments -or carved in fine stone as an amulet for the mummies. The ancient -artist is remarkably faithful in the execution of the whole; but his -graver, his chisel have not troubled about details so insignificant as -those of the tarsi. - -Ill-supplied though I be with documents of this kind, I greatly doubt -whether carving or engraving will solve the problem. Even if an image -with front tarsi were discovered somewhere or other, the question would -be no further advanced. One could always plead a mistake, carelessness, -a leaning towards symmetry. The doubt, as long as it prevails in -certain minds, can only be removed by the ancient insect in a natural -state. I will wait for it, convinced beforehand that the Pharaonic -Scarab differed in no way from our own. - -Let us not take leave of the old Egyptian author just yet, in spite of -his usually incomprehensible jargon, with its senseless allegories. He -sometimes has views that are strikingly correct. Is it a chance -coincidence? Or is it the result of serious observation? I should be -gladly inclined to adopt the latter opinion, so perfect is the -agreement between his statements and certain biological details of -which our own science was ignorant until quite lately. Where the -intimate life of the Scarab is concerned, Horapollo is much -better-informed than ourselves. - -In particular, he writes as follows: - - - “The Scarab buries her ball in the ground, where she remains hidden - for twenty-eight days, a space of time equal to that of a - revolution of the moon, during which period the offspring of the - Scarab quickens. On the twenty-ninth day, which the insect knows to - be that of the conjunction of the sun and moon and of the birth of - the world, it opens the ball and throws it into the water. From - this ball issue animals that are Scarabs.” - - -Let us dismiss the revolution of the moon, the conjunction of the sun -and moon, the birth of the world and other astrological absurdities, -but remember this: the twenty-eight days of incubation required by the -ball underground, the twenty-eight days during which the Scarab is born -to life. Let us also remember the indispensable intervention of water -to bring the insect out of its burst shell. These are precise facts, -falling within the domain of true science. Are they imaginary? Are they -real? The question deserves investigation. - -Antiquity knew nothing of the wonders of the metamorphosis. To -antiquity, a grub was a worm born of corruption. The poor creature had -no future to lift it from its abject condition: as worm it appeared and -as worm it had to disappear. It was not a mask under which a superior -form of life was being elaborated; it was a definite entity, supremely -contemptible and doomed soon to return to the rottenness that gave it -birth. - -To the Egyptian author, therefore, the Scarab’s larva was unknown. And -if, by chance, he had had before his eyes the shell of the insect -inhabited by a fat, big-bellied worm, he would never have suspected in -the foul and ugly animal the sober beauty of the future Scarab. -According to the ideas of the time, ideas long maintained, the sacred -insect had neither father nor mother: an error excusable in the midst -of the simplicity of the ancients, for here the two sexes are outwardly -indistinguishable. It was born of the ordure that formed its ball; and -from its birth dated the appearance of the nymph, that amber gem -displaying, in a perfectly recognizable form, the features of the -full-grown insect. - -In the eyes of all antiquity, the Sacred Beetle begins to be born to -life at the moment when he can be recognized, not before; else we -should have the as yet unsuspected worm of affiliation. The -twenty-eight days, therefore, during which, as Horapollo tells us, the -offspring of the insect quickens, represent the nymphal phase. This -period has been the object of special attention in my studies. It -varies, but within narrow limits. The notes taken mention thirty-three -days as the longest duration and twenty-one as the shortest. The -average, supplied by a score of observations, is twenty-eight days. -This identical number twenty-eight, this number of four weeks appears -as such and oftener than the others. Horapollo spoke truly: the real -insect takes life in the interval of a lunar month. - -The four weeks past, behold the Scarab in his final shape: the shape, -yes, but not the colouring, which is very strange when the chrysalis -casts its skin. The head, legs and thorax are a dark red, except the -denticulations, which are a smoky brown. The abdomen is an opaque -white; the wing-cases are a transparent white, very faintly tinged with -yellow. This majestic dress, combining the red of the cardinal’s -cassock with the white of the priest’s alb, is but temporary and turns -darker by degrees, to make way for a uniform of ebon black. About a -month is necessary for the horny armour to acquire a firm consistency -and a definite hue. - -At last, the Scarab is fully matured. Awaking within him is the -delicious restlessness of an approaching liberty. He, hitherto the son -of the darkness, foresees the gladness of the light. His longing is -great to burst the shell, to emerge from below ground and come into the -sun; but the difficulty of liberating himself is far from small. Will -he escape from the natal cradle, now become an odious prison? Or will -he not escape? It depends. - -It is generally in August that the Sacred Beetle is ripe for the -delivery: in August, save for rare exceptions, the most torrid, dry and -scorching month of the year. Should there not then come, from time to -time, a shower that to some slight extent assuages the panting earth, -then the cell to be burst and the wall to be broken through defy the -strength and patience of the insect, which is powerless against all -that hardness. By dint of a prolonged desiccation, the soft original -matter has become an insuperable rampart; it has turned into a sort of -brick baked in the oven of the dog-days. - -I need hardly say that I have not failed to experiment with the insect -in these difficult circumstances. Pear-shaped shells are gathered -containing the full-grown Scarab, who is on the point of issuing, in -view of the lateness of the season. These shells, already dry and very -hard, are laid in a box where they retain their aridity. A little -earlier in one case, a little later in the other, I hear the sharp -grating of a rasp inside each shell. It is the prisoner working to make -himself an outlet by scraping the wall with the rake of his shield and -fore-feet. Two or three days elapse and the delivery seems to make no -progress. - -I come to the assistance of a pair of them by myself opening a -loop-hole with the point of a knife. According to my idea, this first -breach will help the egress of the recluse by offering him a place to -start upon, an exit that only needs widening. But not at all: these -favoured ones advance no quicker with their work than the rest. - -In less than a fortnight, silence prevails in all the shells. The -prisoners, worn out with ineffectual efforts, have perished. I break -the caskets containing the deceased. A meagre pinch of dust, -representing hardly an average pea in bulk, is all that the sturdy -implements—rasp, saw, harrow and rake—have succeeded in sundering from -the invincible wall. - -Other shells, of a similar hardness, are wrapped in a wet rag and -enclosed in a flask. When the moisture has soaked through them, I -relieve them of their wrapper and keep them in the corked flask. This -time, events take a very different turn. Softened to a nicety by the -wet rag, the shells burst, ripped open by the shove of the prisoner, -who props himself boldly on his legs, using his back as a lever; or -else, scraped away at one point, they crumble to pieces and yawn with a -wide breach. The success is complete. In each case, the delivery is -effected without impediment; a few drops of water have brought them the -joys of the sun. - -For the second time, Horapollo was right. Certainly, it is not the -mother, as the old author says, who throws her ball into the water: it -is the clouds that provide the liberating ablution, the rain that -facilitates the ultimate release. In the natural state, things must -happen as in my experiments. In August, in a burnt soil, under a thin -screen of earth, the shells, baked like bricks, are for most of the -time as hard as pebbles. It is impossible for the insect to wear out -its casket and escape from it. But, should a shower come upon the -scene—that life-giving baptism which the seed of the plant and the -family of the Scarab alike await within the ashes of the soil—should a -little rain fall, soon the fields will present the appearance of a -resurrection. - -The earth is soaked. This is the wet rag of my experiment. At its -touch, the shell recovers the softness of its early days, the casket -becomes yielding; the insect makes play with its legs, pushes with its -back; it is free. It is, in fact, in the month of September, during the -first rains which herald the coming autumn, that the Scarab leaves the -native burrow and comes to enliven the pastoral sward, even as the -former generation enlivened it in the spring. The clouds, hitherto so -chary, have come at last to set him free. - -Under conditions of exceptional coolness of the earth, the bursting of -the shell and the emerging of its occupant can occur at an earlier -period; but, in ground scorched by the fierce sun of summer, as is -usually the case in these parts, the Scarab, however eager he may be to -see the light, must needs wait for the first rains to soften his -stubborn shell. A downpour means to him a question of life and death. -Horapollo, that echo of the Egyptian magi, saw true when he made water -play its part in the insect’s birth. - -But let us drop the jargon of antiquity and its shreds of truth; let us -not neglect the first acts of the Sacred Beetle on leaving his shell; -let us be present at his prentice steps in the open-air life. In -August, I break the casket in which I hear the helpless prisoner -fretting. The insect, the only one of its species, is placed in a -volery. Provisions are fresh and plentiful. This is the moment, I say -to myself, when we take refreshment after so long an abstinence. Well, -I am wrong: the new recruit sets no store by the victuals, -notwithstanding my invitations, my appeals to the appetizing heap. What -he wants above all is the joys of light. He climbs the metal trellis, -sets himself in the sun and there, motionless, takes his fill of its -beams. - -What passes through his dull-witted scavenger’s brain during this first -bath of radiant light? Probably nothing. He enjoys the unconscious -happiness of a flower blooming in the sun. - -At last, the insect goes to the victuals. A ball is constructed -according to all the rules. There is no apprenticeship, no first -attempt: the spherical form is obtained as regularly as though after -long practice. A burrow is dug wherein to eat in peace the -lately-kneaded bread. Here we find the novice thoroughly versed in his -art. No experience, however prolonged, will add anything to his -talents. - - - - - - - - - - -THE SPANISH COPRIS - - -CHAPTER V - -THE SPANISH COPRIS - - -To show instinct performing on behalf of the egg what reason, ripened -by study and experience, would advise is a result of no mean -philosophic import; and I find myself seized with a scruple aroused by -scientific austerity. Not that I wish to give science a forbidding -aspect: I am convinced that one can say excellent things without -employing a barbarous vocabulary. Clearness is the supreme politeness -of whoso wields a pen. I do my best to observe it. And the scruple that -stops me is of another kind. - -I ask myself if I am not here the victim of an illusion. I say to -myself: - -“The Sacred Beetles and others are manufacturers of balls, of pills. -That is their trade, learnt we know not how, prescribed perhaps by -their structure, in particular by their long legs, some of which are -slightly curved. When working for the egg, what wonder if they continue -underground their special craft as ball-making artisans?” - -Setting aside the neck of the pear and the jutting tip of the ovoid, -details the interpretation of which presents quite other difficulties, -there remains the most important mass as regards bulk, the globular -mass, a repetition of that which the insect makes outside the burrow; -there remains the ball with which the Sacred Beetle plays in the sun, -sometimes without making any other use of it. - -Then what does the globulous form, which presents the most efficacious -preventative against desiccation during the heat of summer, do here? -Physically, this property of the sphere and of its near neighbour, the -ovoid, is undeniable; but these shapes offer only a casual concord with -the difficulty overcome. The animal built to roll balls across the -fields also fashions balls underground. If the worm be all the better -for finding tender foodstuffs under its mandibles to the very end, that -is a capital thing for the worm, but it is no reason why we should -extol the instinct of the mother. - -To complete my conviction, I shall need a portly Dung-beetle who is a -total stranger to the pill-making craft in matters of every-day life -and who, nevertheless, when the moment of laying is at hand, makes a -sudden change in her habits and shapes her harvest into a ball. Is -there any such in my neighbourhood? Yes, there is; and she is one of -the handsomest and largest, next to the Sacred Beetle. I speak of the -Spanish Copris, who is so remarkable for her suddenly sloping corselet -and for the extravagant horn surmounting her head. - -Thick-set, round, dumpy, slow of gait, the Spanish Copris is certainly -not equal to the athletic performances of the Sacred Beetle. The legs, -of very middling length and folded under the belly at the least alarm, -bear no comparison with the stilts of the pill-rollers. Their stiff and -stunted form alone is enough to tell us that the insect would not care -to wander about hampered by a rolling ball. - -The Copris is, in point of fact, of a sedentary habit. Once he has -found his provisions, at night or in the evening twilight, he digs a -burrow under the heap. It is a rough cave, large enough to hold a big -apple. Here is introduced, piecemeal, the matter forming the roof or, -at least, lying on the door-sill; here is engulfed, without definite -shape, an enormous supply of victuals, bearing eloquent witness to the -insect’s gluttony. As long as the hoard lasts, the Copris, engrossed in -the pleasures of the table, does not return to the surface. The -hermitage is not abandoned until the larder is emptied, when the insect -recommences its nocturnal searches, finds a new treasure and digs -itself a new temporary establishment. - -Plying this trade as a setter-in of ordure without preliminary -manipulation, the Copris, evidently, is absolutely ignorant, for the -time being, of the art of kneading and modelling a globular loaf. -Besides, his short, awkward legs seem radically opposed to any such -art. - -In May, or June at latest, comes laying-time. The insect, itself so -ready to fill its belly with the most sordid materials, becomes -particular, where the portion of its family is concerned. Like the -Sacred Beetle, it now wants the soft produce of the sheep, deposited in -a single lump. Even when copious, the cake is buried on the spot in its -entirety. Not a trace of it remains outside. Economy demands that it be -gathered to the last crumb. - -You see: no journey, no carting, no preparations. The cake is carried -down to the cellar by armfuls and at the identical spot where it is -lying. The insect repeats, with an eye to its grubs, what it did when -working for itself. As for the burrow, which is marked by a large -mole-hill, it is a roomy cave dug at a depth of some twenty -centimetres. [14] I observe a greater width, a greater perfection than -in the temporary abodes occupied by the Copris at times of revelry. - -But let us leave the insect working in a state of liberty. The evidence -supplied by chance meetings would be incomplete, fragmentary and -disconnected. An examination in the volery is much to be preferred; and -the Copris lends himself to this most admirably. Let us first watch the -storing. - -In the discreet dusk of the twilight, I see him appear on the threshold -of his burrow. He has mounted from the depths, he has come to gather -his harvest. He has not long to seek: the provisions are there, outside -the door, plentifully served and renewed by my care. Timidly, prepared -to retreat at the least alarm, he walks up to them with a slow and -measured step. The shield cuts and rummages, the fore-legs extract. An -armful is separated from the rest, quite a modest armful, crumbling to -pieces. The Copris drags it backwards and disappears underground. In -less than two minutes, he is back again. Never forgetting his caution, -he questions the neighbouring space with the outspread leaflets of his -antennæ before crossing the threshold of his dwelling. - -A distance of two or three inches separates him from the heap. It is a -serious matter for him to venture so far. He would have preferred the -victuals exactly over his door, forming a roof to the house. This would -avoid his having to go out, always a source of anxiety. I have decided -otherwise. To facilitate my observations, I have placed the victuals -just on one side. Little by little, the alarmist grows accustomed to -the open air and accustomed to my presence, which, for that matter, I -render as discreet as possible. The taking down of the armfuls is -repeated indefinitely. They are always shapeless scraps, morsels such -as one might pick off with a small pair of pincers. - -Having learnt what I want to know about the method of warehousing, I -leave the insect to its work, which continues for the best part of the -night. On the following days, nothing: the Copris goes out no more. -Enough treasure has been amassed in a single night’s sitting. Let us -wait a while and leave the insect time to stow its harvest as it -pleases. - -Before the week is out, I dig up the soil of the volery and lay bare -the burrow, the victualling of which I have partly followed. As in the -fields, it is a spacious hall, with an irregular, surbased ceiling and -an almost level floor. In a corner is a round hole, similar to the -orifice of the neck of a bottle. This is the business-entrance, opening -on a slanting gallery that runs up to the surface. The walls of the -house dug in fresh soil are carefully piled up and possess enough power -of resistance not to give way under the disturbance produced by my -excavations. We can see that, in labouring for the future, the insect -has put forth all its talent, all its strength as a digger, to produce -lasting work. Whereas the marquee in which we feast is a cavity -hurriedly hollowed out, our permanent dwelling is a crypt of larger -dimensions and of a much more finished construction. - -I suspect that both sexes take part in the master work: at least, I -often come upon the couple in the burrows destined for the laying. The -roomy and luxurious apartment was no doubt once the wedding-hall; the -marriage was consummated under the great vault to the building of which -the swain has contributed: a gallant way of declaring his ardour. I -also suspect the husband of lending a hand to his partner with the -harvesting and the storing. From what I have gathered, he too, strong -as he is, collects his armfuls and goes down into the crypt. The minute -and tricky work goes much faster with two helping. But, once the house -is well supplied, he retires discreetly, returns to the surface and -goes and settles down elsewhere, leaving the mother to her delicate -functions. His part in the family-mansion is ended. - -Now what do we find in this mansion, to which we have seen so many tiny -loads of provisions lowered? A muddled heap of separate morsels? Not in -the least. I always find a single lump, a huge loaf which fills the -box, but for a narrow passage all around, just wide enough to leave the -mother room to move. - -This sumptuous lump, a real Twelfth-Night cake, has no fixed shape. I -come across some that are ovoid, suggesting a turkey’s egg in form and -size; I find some that are a flattened ellipsoid, similar to the common -onion; I discover some that are almost round, reminding one of a Dutch -cheese; I see some that are circular and slightly raised on the upper -surface, like the loaves of the Provençal rustic or, better still, the -fougasso à l’iôu [15] wherewith the Easter festival is celebrated. In -every case, the surface is smooth and regularly curved. - -There is no mistaking what has happened: the mother has collected and -kneaded into one lump the numerous fragments brought down one after the -other; out of all those particles she has made a homogeneous piece, by -dint of mashing them, amalgamating them, stamping on them. I repeatedly -surprise the baker on the top of the colossal loaf beside which the -Sacred Beetle’s pill cuts so poor a figure: she goes strolling about on -the convex surface, which sometimes measures a decimetre [16] across; -she pats the mass, consolidates it, levels it. I can give but a glance -at the curious scene. As soon as she is perceived, the pastry-cook -slides down the curved slope and huddles out of sight beneath the pie. - -To follow the work further, to study its close detail, we must resort -to artifice. The difficulty is almost nil. Either my long practice with -the Sacred Beetle has made me more skilful in methods of research, or -else the Copris is less circumspect and endures more readily the -annoyance of a long captivity; for I succeed, without the least -impediment, in following all the phases of the nest-making at my -heart’s ease. - -I employ two methods, each fitted to instruct me as to certain -particulars. Whenever the voleries supply me with a few large cakes, I -move these, with the mother, and place them in my study. The -receptacles are of two sorts, according to whether I want light or -darkness. For light, I employ glass jars with a diameter more or less -the same as that of the burrows, say about a dozen centimetres. [17] At -the bottom of each is a thin layer of fresh sand, quite insufficient to -allow the Copris to bury herself in it, but convenient, nevertheless, -to save the insect from the slippery footing provided by the glass and -to give it the illusion of a soil similar to that of which I have -deprived it. On this layer the jar receives the mother and her loaf. - -I need hardly say that the startled insect would not undertake anything -under conditions of light, however softly modulated. It demands -complete obscurity, which I produce by means of a cardboard box -encasing the cylinder. By carefully raising this box a little, I am -able, presently, when I feel inclined, to surprise the captive at her -work and even to follow her doings for a time. The method, the reader -will see, is much simpler than that which I used when I wished to see -the Sacred Beetle engaged in modelling her pear. The easier-going mood -of the Copris lends itself to this simplification, which would be none -too successful with the other. A dozen of these eclipsed apparatus are -thus arranged on the large table in the laboratory. Any one seeing the -set would take them for an assortment of groceries in whity-brown paper -bags. - -For darkness, I use flower-pots filled with fresh, heaped sand. The -mother and her cake occupy the lower portion, which is arranged as a -nest by means of a cardboard screen forming a ceiling and supporting -the sand above. Or else I simply put the mother on the surface of the -sand with a supply of provisions. She digs herself a burrow, does her -warehousing, makes herself a nest and things happen as usual. In all -cases, a sheet of glass used as a lid answers for my prisoners’ safety. -I rely upon these several dark apparatus to inform me about a delicate -point the particulars whereof will be set forth in their proper place. - -What do the glass jars covered with an opaque sheath teach us? They -teach us much, of a most interesting character, and this to begin with: -the big loaf does not owe its curve—which is always regular, -notwithstanding its varying form—to any rolling process. The inspection -of the natural burrow has already told us that so large a mass could -not have been rolled into a cavity of which it fills almost the whole -space. Besides, the strength of the insect would be unequal to moving -so great a load. - -Questioned from time to time, the jar repeats the same conclusion for -our benefit. I see the mother, hoisted atop the piece, feeling here, -feeling there, bestowing little taps, smoothing away the projecting -points, perfecting the thing; never do I catch her looking as though -she wanted to turn the block. It is as clear as daylight: rolling has -nothing whatever to do with the matter. - -The dough-maker’s assiduity, her patient cares make me suspect a delay -in the manufacture whereof I was far from dreaming. Why so many -after-touches to the block, why so long a wait before employing it? A -week and more passes, in fact, before the insect, ever pressing and -polishing, decides to use its hoard. - -The baker, when he has kneaded his dough to the desired extent, -collects it into a single heap in a corner of the kneading-trough. The -heat of the panary fermentation smoulders better in the heart of the -voluminous mass. The Copris knows this secret of the bake-house. She -collects the sum total of her harvests into a single lump; she -carefully kneads the whole into a provisional loaf which she gives time -to improve by means of an inner labour that makes the paste more -palatable and gives it a degree of consistency favourable to subsequent -manipulations. As long as the chemical work remains unfinished, both -the journeyman-baker and the Copris wait. To the insect this means a -long spell, a week at least. - -It is done. The baker’s man divides his lump into smaller lumps, each -of which will become a loaf. The Copris acts likewise. By means of a -circular gash made with the cleaver of the shield and the saw of the -fore-legs, she separates from the main body a section of the prescribed -size. For this stroke of the trencher, no hesitation is needed, no -after-touches that add or subtract. Off-hand and with a plain, decisive -cut, a lump is obtained of the requisite bulk. - -It now becomes a question of shaping it. Clasping it as best it can in -its short arms, so incompatible, one would think, with work of this -kind, the insect rounds the section by the one and only means of -pressure. It gravely moves about the hitherto shapeless ball, climbs -up, climbs down; it turns to left and right, above and below; -methodically, it presses a little more here, a little less there; it -improves by new touches, with unchanging patience; and, in twenty-four -hours’ time, the angular piece has become a perfect sphere, the size of -a plum. In a corner of her crammed studio, the podgy artist, with -hardly room to move, has finished her work without once shaking it on -its base; by dint of time and patience, she has obtained the -geometrical globe which her clumsy tools and her confined space seemed -bound to refuse her. - -The insect continues for a long time yet to improve and lovingly to -polish its sphere, gently passing its foot to and fro until the least -protuberance has disappeared. Its finikin after-touches look as though -they would never be done. Towards the end of the second day, however, -the globe is pronounced right and proper. The mother climbs to the dome -of her edifice and there, still by simple pressure, hollows out a -shallow crater. In this basin the egg is laid. - -Then, with extreme caution, with a delicacy that is most surprising in -such rough tools, the lips of the crater are brought together so as to -form a vaulted roof over the egg. The mother slowly turns, rakes a -little, draws - -the material upwards and finishes the closing. This is the most -ticklish work of all. A careless pressure, a miscalculated thrust might -easily jeopardize the life of the germ under its slender ceiling. - -From time to time, the work of closing is suspended. The mother, -motionless, with lowered forehead, seems to auscultate the underlying -cavity, to listen to what is happening within. All’s well, it seems; -and the patient labour is resumed: a fine scraping of the sides towards -the summit, which tapers a little and lengthens out. In this way, an -ovoid with the small end uppermost replaces the original sphere. Under -the more or less projecting nipple is the hatching-chamber, with the -egg. Twenty-four hours more are spent in this minute work. Total: four -times round the clock and sometimes longer to construct the sphere, -hollow it out basinwise, lay the egg and shut it in by transforming the -sphere into an ovoid. - -The insect goes back to the cut loaf and helps itself to a second -slice, which, by the same manipulations as before, becomes an ovoid -sheltering an egg. The surplus suffices for a third ovoid, pretty often -even for a fourth. I have never seen this number exceeded when the -mother had at her disposal only the materials which she had heaped up -in the burrow. - -The laying is over. Here is the mother in her retreat, which is almost -filled by the three or four cradles standing one against the other, -with their poles jutting upwards. What will she do now? Go away, no -doubt, to recruit her strength a little out of doors, after a prolonged -fast. He who thinks this is mistaken. She remains. And yet she has -eaten nothing since she came underground, taking good care not to touch -the loaf, which, divided into equal portions, will be the food of the -family. The Copris is touchingly scrupulous in the matter of the -inheritance: she is a devoted mother, who braves hunger lest her -offspring should starve. - -She braves it for a second reason: to mount guard around the cradles. -From the end of June onwards, the burrows are hard to find, because the -mole-hills disappear through the action of some storm, or the wind, or -the feet of the passers-by. The few which I succeed in discovering -always contain the mother dozing beside a group of pills, in each of -which a grub, now nearing its complete development, feasts on the fat -of the land. - -My dark apparatus, flower-pots filled with fresh sand, confirm what the -fields have taught me. Buried with provisions in the first fortnight in -May, the mothers do not reappear on the surface, under the glass lid. -They keep hidden in the burrow after laying their eggs; they spend the -sultry dog-days with their ovoids, watching them, no doubt, as the -glass jars, rid of subterranean mysteries, tell us. - -They come up again at the time of the first autumnal rains, in -September. But by then the new generation has attained its perfect -form. The mother, therefore, enjoys underground that rare privilege for -the insect, the delight of knowing her family; she hears her sons -scratching at the shell to obtain their liberty; she is present at the -bursting of the casket which she has fashioned so conscientiously; -maybe she helps the exhausted weaklings, if the ground have not been -cool enough to soften their cells. Mother and progeny leave the subsoil -together and arrive together at the autumn banquets, when the sun is -mild and the ovine manna plentiful along the paths. - - - - - - - - - - -THE ONTHOPHAGI - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE ONTHOPHAGI - - -After the notabilities of the Dung-beetle tribe, there remain, in the -very limited radius of my research, the small fry of the Onthophagi, of -whom I could gather a dozen different species around my house. What -will these little ones teach us? - -Even more zealous than their larger comrades, they are the first to -hasten to the exploiting of the heap left by the passing mule. They -come up in crowds and stay long, working under the spread table that -gives them shade and coolness. Turn over the heap with your foot. You -will be surprised at the swarming population whose presence no outward -sign betrayed. The largest are scarce the size of a pea, but many are -much smaller still, are dwarfs, no less busy than the others, no less -eager to crumble the filth whose prompt disappearance the public health -demands. - -In works of major interest, there is none like the humble, with their -concerted weakness, for realizing immense strength. Swollen by numbers, -the next to nothing becomes an enormous total. - -Hurrying in detachments at the first news of the event, assisted -moreover in their wholesome task by their partners, the Aphodians, who -are as weak as they, the tiny Onthophagi soon clear the ground of its -dirt. Not that their appetite is equal to the consumption of such -plentiful provisions. What food do those pigmies need? An atom. But -that atom, selected from among the exudations, must be hunted amid the -fragments of the masticated fodder. Hence, an endless division and -subdivision of the lump, reducing it to crumbs which the sun sterilizes -and the wind dispels. As soon as the work is done—and very well -done—the troop of scavengers goes in search of another refuse-yard. -Outside the period of intense cold, which puts a stop to all activity, -they know no dead season. - -And do not run away with the idea that this filthy task entails an -inelegant shape and a ragged dress. The insect knows none of our -squalor. In its world, a navvy dons a sumptuous jerkin; an undertaker -decks himself in a triple saffron sash; a wood-cutter works in a velvet -coat. In like manner, the Onthophagus has his own luxury. True, the -costume is always severe: brown and black are the predominant colours, -now dull, now polished as ebony; but, on this background, what details -of sober and graceful ornament! The graver’s work completes the beauty -of the dress. Tiny chasings in parallel grooves, gnarly beads, dainty -rows of knobs, seed-plots of pearly papillæ are distributed in -profusion among nearly all of them. Yes, the little Onthophagi, with -their stunted bodies and their nimble activity, are really pretty to -look at. - -And then how original are their frontal decorations! These peace-lovers -delight in the panoply of war, as though they, the inoffensive ones, -thirsted for battle. Many of them crown their heads with threatening -horns. Let us mention that horned one whose story will occupy us more -particularly. I mean Onthophagus Taurus, clad in raven black. He wears -a pair of long horns, gracefully curved and branching to either side. -No pedigree bull, in the Swiss meadows, can match them for curve or -elegance. - -The Onthophagus is a very indifferent artist: his nest is a rudimentary -piece of work, hardly fit to be acknowledged. I obtain it in profusion -from the six species which I have brought up in my jars and -flower-pots. Onthophagus Taurus alone provides me with nearly a -hundred; and I find no two precisely alike, as pieces should be that -come from the same mould and the same laboratory. - -To this lack of exact similarity, we must add inaccuracy of shape, now -more, now less accentuated. It is easy, however, to recognize among the -bulk the prototype from which the clumsy nest-builder works. It is a -sack shaped like a thimble and standing erect, with the spherical -thimble-end at the bottom and the circular opening at the top. - -Sometimes, the insect establishes itself in the central region of my -apparatus, in the heart of the earthy mass; then, the resistance being -the same in every direction, the sack-like shape is pretty accurate. -But, generally, the Onthophagus prefers a solid basis to a dusty -support and builds against the walls of the jar, especially against the -bottom wall. When the support is vertical, the sack is a short cylinder -divided lengthwise, with a smooth, flat surface against the glass and a -rugged convexity every elsewhere. If the support be horizontal, as is -most frequently the case, the cabin is a sort of undefined oval -pastille, flat at the bottom, bulging and vaulted at the top. To the -general inaccuracy of these contorted shapes, ruled by no very definite -pattern, we must add the coarseness of the surfaces, all of which, with -the exception of the parts touching the glass, are covered with a crust -of sand. - -The manner of procedure explains this uncouth exterior. As laying-time -draws nigh, the Onthophagus bores a cylindrical pit and descends -underground to a middling depth. Here, working with the shield, the -chine and the fore-legs, which are toothed like a rake, he forces back -and heaps around him the materials which he has moved, so as to obtain -as best he may a nest of suitable size. - -The next thing is to cement the crumbling walls of the cavity. The -insect climbs back to the surface by way of its pit; it gathers on its -threshold an armful of mortar taken from the cake whereunder it has -elected to set up house; it goes down again with its burden, which it -spreads and presses upon the sandy wall. Thus it produces a concrete -casing, the flint of which is supplied by the wall itself and the -cement by the produce of the sheep. After a few trips and repeated -strokes of the trowel, the pit is plastered on every side; the walls, -encrusted with grains of sand, are no longer liable to give way. - -The cabin is ready: it now wants only a tenant and stores. First, a -large free space is contrived at the bottom: the hatching-chamber, on -whose inner wall the egg is laid. Next comes the gathering of the -provisions intended for the worm, a gathering made with nice -precautions. Lately, when building, the insect worked upon the outside -of the doughy mass and took no notice of the earthy blemishes. Now, it -penetrates to the very centre of the lump, through a gallery that looks -as though it were contrived with a punch. When trying a cheese, the -buyer employs a hollow cylindrical taster, which he drives well in and -pulls out with a sample taken from the middle of the cheese. The -Onthophagus, when collecting for her grub, goes to work as though -equipped with one of these tasters. She bores an exactly round hole -into the piece which she is exploiting; she goes straight to the -middle, where the material, not being exposed to the contact of the -air, has kept more savoury and pliable. Here and here alone are -gathered the armfuls which, gradually stowed away, kneaded and heaped -up to the requisite extent, fill the sack to the top. Finally, a plug -of the same mortar, the sides of which are made partly of sand and -partly of stercoral cement, roughly closes the cell, in such a way that -an outward inspection does not allow one to distinguish front from -back. - -To judge the work and its merit, we must open it. A large empty space, -oval in shape, occupies the rear end. This is the birth-chamber, huge -in dimensions compared with its content, the egg fixed on the wall, -sometimes at the bottom of the cell and sometimes on the side. The egg -is a tiny white cylinder, rounded at either end and measuring a -millimetre [18] in length immediately after it is laid. With no other -support than the spot on which the oviduct has planted it, it stands on -its hind-end and projects into space. - -A more or less enquiring glance is quite surprised to find so small a -germ contained in so large a box. What does that tiny egg want with all -that space? When carefully examined within, the walls of the chamber -prompt another question. They are coated with a fine greenish pap, -semi-fluid and shiny, the appearance of which does not agree with the -outward or inward aspect of the lump from which the insect has -extracted its materials. A similar lime-wash is observed in the nest -which the Sacred Beetle, the Copris, the Sisyphus, the Geotrupe and -other makers of stercoraceous preserves contrive in the very heart of -the provisions, to receive the egg; but nowhere have I seen it so -plentiful, in proportion, as in the hatching-chamber of the -Onthophagus. Long puzzled by this brothy wash, of which the Sacred -Beetle provided me with the first instance, I began by taking the thing -for a layer of moisture oozing from the bulk of the victuals and -collecting on the surface of the enclosure without other effort than -capillary action. That was the interpretation which I accepted -originally. - -I was wrong. The truth is worthy of attention in a very different way. -To-day, better-informed by the Onthophagus, I know that this lime-wash -itself, this semi-fluid cream, is the product of maternal foresight. - -What, then, is this lime-wash found in every cell? The answer is -compulsory: it is a produce of the mother, a special gruel, a milk-food -elaborated for the benefit of the new-born grub. - -The young Pigeon puts his beak into that of his parents, who, with -convulsive efforts, force down his gullet first a caseous mash secreted -in the crop and next a broth of grains softened by being partially -digested. He is fed upon disgorged foods, which are helpful to the -weaknesses of an inexperienced stomach. The grub of the Onthophagus is -brought up in much the same way, at the start. To assist its first -attempts at swallowing, the mother prepares for it, in her crop, a -light and strengthening cream. - -To pass the dainty from mouth to mouth is, in her case, impossible: the -construction of other cells keeps her busy elsewhere. Moreover—and this -is a more serious detail—the laying takes place egg by egg, at very -long intervals, and the hatching is pretty slow: time would fail, had -the family to be brought up in the manner of the Pigeons. Another -method is perforce needed. The childish pap is disgorged all over the -walls of the cabin in such a way that the nursling finds itself -surrounded by an abundance of bread-and-jam, in which the bread, the -food of the sturdy age, is represented by the uncooked material, as -supplied by the sheep, whereas the jam, the mess of the puny age, is -represented by the same material daintily prepared beforehand in the -mother’s stomach. We shall see the babe presently lick first the jam, -all around it, and then stoutly attack the bread. A child among -ourselves would behave no otherwise. - -I should have liked to catch the mother in the act of disgorging and -spreading her broth. I was not able to succeed. Things happen in a -narrow retreat, which the eye cannot enter when the pastry-cook is -busy; and also her fluster at being exhibited in broad daylight at once -stops the work. - -If direct observation be lacking, at least the appearance of the -material speaks very clearly and tells us that the Onthophagus, here -rivalling the Pigeon, but with a different method, disgorges the first -mouthfuls for her sons. And the same may be said of the other -Dung-beetles skilled in the art of building a hatching-chamber in the -centre of the provisions. - -No elsewhere, in the insect order, except among the Apidæ, who prepare -disgorged food in the shape of honey, is this affection present. The -Dung-workers edify us with their morals. Several of them practise -association in couples and found a household; several anticipate the -suckling, the supreme expression of maternal solicitude, by turning -their crop into a nipple. Life has its freaks. It settles amid ordure -the creatures most highly-endowed with family qualities. True, from -there it mounts, with a sudden flight, to the sublimities of the bird. - -The little worm is hatched in about a week: a strange and paradoxical -being. On its back, it has an enormous sugar-loaf hump, the weight of -which drags it over and capsizes it each time it tries to stand on its -legs and walk. At every moment, it staggers and falls under the burden -of the hunch. - -Unable to keep its hump upright, the grub of the Onthophagus lies down -on its side and licks the cream of its cell all around it. There is -cream everywhere, on the ceiling, on the walls, on the floor. As soon -as one spot is thoroughly bared, the consumer moves on a little with -the help of its well-shaped legs; it capsizes again and starts licking -again. The room is large and plentifully supplied; and the jam-diet -lasts some time. - -The fat babies of the Geotrupe, the Copris and the Sacred Beetle finish -at one brief sitting the dainty wherewith their cabined lodge is hung, -a dainty scantily served and just sufficient to stimulate the appetite -and prepare the stomach for a coarser fare; but the Onthophagus grub, -that lean pigmy, has enough to last it for a week and more. The -spacious natal chamber, which is out of all proportion with the size of -the nursling, has permitted this wastefulness. - -At last, the real loaf is attacked. In about a month, everything is -consumed, except the wall of the sack. And now the splendid part played -by the hump stands revealed. Glass tubes, prepared in view of events, -allow me to follow the more and more plump and hunch-backed grub at -work. I see it withdraw to one end of the cell, which has become a -crumbling ruin. Here it builds a casket in which the transformation -will take place. Its materials are the digestive residuum, converted -into mortar and heaped up in the hump. The stercoral architect is about -to construct a masterpiece of elegance out of its own ordure, held in -reserve in that receptacle. - -I follow its movements under the magnifying-glass. It buckles itself, -closes the circuit of the digestive apparatus, brings the two poles -into contact and, with the end of its mandibles, seizes a pellet of -dung ejaculated at that moment. This pellet, moulded and measured to -perfection, is very neatly gathered. A slight bend of the neck sets the -rubble-stone in place. Others follow, laid one above the other in -minutely regular courses. Giving a tap here and there with its feelers, -the grub makes sure of the stability of the parts, their accurate -binding, their orderly arrangement. It turns round in the centre of the -work as the edifice rises, even as a mason does when building a tower. - -Sometimes, the laid stone becomes loose, because the cement has given -way. The worm takes it up again with its mandibles, but, before -replacing it, coats it with an adhesive moisture. It holds it to its -anus, whence trickles, on the moment, almost imperceptibly, a gummy -consolidating extract. The hump supplies the materials; the intestines -give, if necessary, the connecting glue. - -In this way, a nice house is produced, ovoid in shape, polished as -stucco within and adorned on the outside with slightly projecting -scales, similar to those on a cedar-cone. Each of these scales is one -of the rubble-stones out of the hump. The casket is not large: a -cherry-stone would about represent its dimensions; but it is so -accurate, so prettily fashioned that it will bear comparison with the -finest products of entomological industry. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A BARREN PROMISE - - -In the nymph of Onthophagus Taurus there rises, on the front edge of -the corselet, a single horn, as strong as the two others and shaped -like a cylinder ending in a conical knob. It points forward and is -fixed in the middle of the frontal crescent, projecting a little beyond -it. The arrangement is gloriously original. The carvers of -hieroglyphics would have beheld in it the crescent of Isis wherein dips -the edge of the world. - -Other singularities complete the curious nymph. To right and left, the -stomach is armed, on either side, with four little horns resembling -crystal spikes. Total, eleven pieces on the harness: two on the -forehead; one on the thorax; eight on the abdomen. The beast of yore -delighted in queer horns: certain reptiles of the geological period -stuck a pointed spur on their upper eyelids. The Onthophagus, more -daring, sports eight on the sides of his belly, in addition to the -spear which he plants upon his back. The frontal horns may be excused: -they are pretty generally worn; but what does he propose to do with the -others? Nothing. They are passing fancies, jewels of early youth; the -adult insect will not retain the least trace of them. - -The nymph matures. The appendages of the forehead, at first quite -crystalline, now show, transparently, a streak of reddish brown, curved -arc-wise. These are real horns taking shape, consistency and colour. -The appendage of the corselet and those of the belly, on the other -hand, preserve their glassy appearance. They are barren sacks, void of -any self-developing germ. The organism produced them in an impetuous -moment; now, scornful, or perhaps powerless, it allows the work to -wither and become useless. - -When the nymph sheds its covering and the fine tunic of the adult form -is torn, these strange horns crumble into shreds, which fall away with -the rest of the cast clothing. In the hope of finding at least a trace -of the vanished things, the lens in vain explores the bases but lately -occupied. There is nothing appreciable left: smoothness takes the place -of protuberance; nullity succeeds to reality. Of the accessory panoply -that promised so much, absolutely naught remains: everything has -disappeared, evaporated, so to speak. - -Onthophagus Taurus is not the only one endowed with those fleeting -appendages, which vanish wholly when the nymph sheds its clothes. The -other members of the tribe possess similar horny manifestations on -their bellies and corselets. These all disappear entirely in the -perfect insect. - -A simple setting forth of the facts does not suffice us: we should like -to guess at the motive of this corniculate display. Is it a vague -memory of the customs of olden time, when life spent its excess of -young sap upon quaint creations, banished to-day from our -better-balanced world? Is the Onthophagus the dwarfed representative of -an old race of horned animals now extinct? Does it give us a faint -image of the past? - -The surmise rests upon no valid foundation. The Dung-beetle is recent -in the general chronology of created beings; he ranks among the -last-comers. With him there is no means of going back to the mists of -the past, so favourable to the invention of imaginary precursors. The -geological layers and even the lacustrian layers, rich in Diptera and -Weevils, have so far furnished not the slightest relic of the -Dung-workers. This being so, it is wiser not to refer to distant horned -ancestors as accounting for their degenerate descendant, the -Onthophagus. - -Since the past explains nothing, let us turn to the future. If the -thoracic horn be not a reminiscence, it may be a promise. It represents -a timid attempt, which the ages will harden into a permanent weapon. It -lets us assist at the slow and gradual evolution of a new organ; it -shows us life working on a portion of the adult’s corselet, which does -not yet exist, but which is to exist some day. We take the genesis of -the species in the act; the present teaches us how the future is -prepared. - -And what does the insect that has conceived the ambition of later -planting a spear upon its chine propose to make of its projected work? -At least as an adjunct of masculine finery, the thing is in fashion -among various foreign Scarabs that feed themselves and their grubs on -vegetable matters in a state of decomposition. These giants among the -wing-cased tribe delight in associating their placid corpulence with -halberds terrible to gaze upon. - -Look at this one—Dynastes Hercules his name—an inmate of the rotten -tree-stumps under the torrid West-Indian skies. The peaceable colossus -well deserves his name: he measures three inches long. Of what service -can the threatening rapier of the corselet and the toothed lifting-jack -of the forehead be to him, unless it be to make him look grand in the -presence of his female, herself deprived of these extravagances? -Perhaps also they are of use to him in certain works, even as the -trident helps Minotaurus in crumbling the pellets and carting the -rubbish. Implements of which we do not know the use always strike us as -singular. Having never associated with the West-Indian Hercules, I must -content myself with suspicions touching the purpose of his fearsome -equipment. - -Well, one of the subjects in my voleries would achieve a similar savage -finery if he persisted in his attempts. I speak of Onthophagus Vacca. -His nymph has on its forehead a thick horn, one only, bent backward; on -its corselet it possesses a like horn, jutting forward. The two, -approaching their tips, look like a sort of pincers. What does the -insect lack in order to acquire, on a smaller scale, the eccentric -ornament of the West-Indian Scarab? It lacks perseverance. It matures -the appendage of the forehead and allows that of the corselet to perish -atrophied. It succeeds no better than Onthophagus Taurus in its attempt -to grow a pointed stake upon its chine; it loses a glorious opportunity -of making itself fine for the wedding and terrible in battle. - -The others are no more successful. I bring up six different species. -All, in the chrysalis state, possess the thoracic horn and the -eight-pointed ventral coronet; not one benefits by these advantages, -which disappear altogether when the adult splits its case. My near -neighbourhood numbers a dozen species of Onthophagi; the world contains -some hundreds. All, natives and foreigners, have the same general -structure; all most probably possess the dorsal appendage at an early -age; and none of them, in spite of the variety of the climate, torrid -in one place, moderate in another, has succeeded in hardening it into a -permanent horn. - -Could the future not complete a work the design of which is so very -clearly traced? We ask ourselves this the more readily inasmuch as -every appearance encourages the question. Examine under the -magnifying-glass the frontal horns of Onthophagus Taurus in the pupa -state; then consider as carefully the spear upon the corselet. At -first, there is no difference between them, except the general -configuration. In both cases, we find the same glassy aspect, the same -sheath swollen with a crystalline moisture, the same incipient organ -plainly marked. A leg in formation is not more clearly declared than -the horn on the corselet or those on the forehead. - -Can time be lacking for the thoracic growth to organize itself into a -stiff and lasting appendage? The evolution of the nymph is swift; the -insect is perfect in a few weeks. Could it not be that, though this -brief space suffice to promote the maturity of the horns on the -forehead, the thoracic horn requires a longer time to ripen? Let us -prolong the nymphal period artificially and give the germ time to -develop itself. It seems to me that a decrease of temperature, -moderated and maintained for some weeks, for months if necessary, -should be capable of bringing about this result, by delaying the -progress of the evolution. Then, with a gentle slowness, favourable to -delicate formations, the promised organ will crystallize, so to speak, -and become the spear heralded by appearances. - -The experiment attracted me. I was unable to undertake it for lack of -the means whereby to produce a cold, even and lasting temperature. What -should I have obtained if my penury had not made me abandon the -enterprise? A retarding of the progress of the metamorphosis, but -nothing more, apparently. The horn on the corselet would have persisted -in its sterility and, sooner or later, would have disappeared. - -I have reasons for my conviction. The abode of the Onthophagus while -engaged on his metamorphosis is not deep down; variations of -temperature are easily felt. On the other hand, the seasons are -capricious, especially the spring. Under the skies of Provence, the -months of May and June, if the mistral lend a hand, have periods when -the thermometer drops in such a way as to suggest a return of winter. - -To these vicissitudes let us add the influence of a more northerly -climate. The Onthophagi occupy a wide zone of latitude. Those of the -north, less favoured by the sun than those of the south, can, if -changing circumstances assist at the time of the transformation, -undergo long weeks of a decreased temperature which spins out the work -of evolution and ought therefore to permit the thoracic armour, at long -intervals and casually, to consolidate into a horn. Here and there, -then, the conditions of a moderate, or even cold temperature, at the -time of the nymphosis, are realized without the aid of my artifices. - -Well, what becomes of this surplus time placed at the service of the -organic labour? Does the promised horn ripen? Not a bit of it: it -withers just as it does under the stimulus of a hot sun. The records of -entomology have never spoken of an Onthophagus carrying a horn upon his -corselet. No one would even have suspected the possibility of such an -armour, if I had not rumoured the strange appearance of the nymph. The -influence of climate, therefore, goes for nothing here. - -Pushed further still, the question becomes more complicated. The horny -appendages of the Onthophagus, of the Copris, of Minotaurus and of so -many others are the male’s prerogative; the female is without them or -wears them only on a reduced and very modest scale. We must look upon -these corniculate products as personal ornaments much rather than as -implements of labour. The male makes himself fine for the pairing; but, -with the exception of Minotaurus, who pins down the dry pellet that -needs crushing and holds it in position with his trident, I know none -that uses his armour as a tool. Horns and prongs on the forehead, -crests and crescents on the corselet are jewels of masculine vanity and -nothing more. The other sex requires no such baits to attract suitors: -its femininity is enough; and finery is neglected. - -Now here is something to give us food for thought. The nymph of the -Onthophagus of the female sex, a nymph with an unarmed forehead, -carries on its thorax a vitreous horn as long, as rich in promise as -that of the other sex. If this latter excrescence be an -incompletely-realized incipient ornament, then the former would be so -too, in which case the two sexes, both anxious for self-embellishment, -would work with equal zeal to grow a horn upon their thorax. We should -be witnessing the genesis of a species that would not be really an -Onthophagus, but a derivative of the group; we should be beholding the -commencement of singularities banished hitherto from among the -Dung-beetles, none of whom, of either sex, has thought of planting a -spear upon his chine. Stranger still: the female, always the more -humbly attired throughout the entomological order, would be vying with -the male in her propensity for eccentric adornment. An ambition of this -sort leaves me incredulous. - -We must therefore believe that, if the possibilities of the future -should ever produce a Dung-beetle carrying a horn upon his corselet, -this upsetter of present customs will not be the Onthophagus succeeding -in maturing the thoracic appendage of the nymph, but rather an insect -resulting from a new model. The creative power throws aside the old -moulds and replaces them by others, fashioned with fresh care, after -plans of an inexhaustible variety. Its laboratory is not a peddling -rag-fair, where the living assume the cast clothes of the dead: it is a -medallist’s studio, where each effigy receives the stamp of a special -die. Its treasure-house of forms, of unbounded wealth, excludes any -niggardly patching of the old to make the new. It breaks up every mould -once used; it does away with it, without resorting to shabby -after-touches. - -Then what is the meaning of those horny preparations, which are always -blighted before they come to aught? Without feeling greatly abashed by -my ignorance, I confess that I am absolutely unable to say. In the -absence of an appearance of learning, my answer has at least one merit, -that of perfect sincerity. - - - - - - - - - - -A DUNG-BEETLE OF THE PAMPAS - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A DUNG-BEETLE OF THE PAMPAS - - -To travel over the world, by land and sea, from pole to pole; to -cross-question life, under every clime, in the infinite variety of its -manifestations: that surely would be glorious luck for him that has -eyes to see with; and it formed the radiant dream of my young years, at -the time when Robinson Crusoe was my delight. These rosy illusions, -rich in voyages, were soon succeeded by dull, stay-at-home reality. The -jungles of India, the virgin forests of Brazil, the towering crests of -the Andes, beloved by the condor, were reduced, as a field for -exploration, to a patch of pebble-stones enclosed within four walls. - -Heaven forfend that I should complain! The gathering of ideas does not -necessarily imply distant expeditions. Jean-Jacques Rousseau herborized -with the bunch of chickweed whereon he fed his canary; Bernardin de -Saint-Pierre discovered a world on a strawberry-plant that grew by -accident in a corner of his window; Xavier de Maistre, using an -arm-chair by way of post-chaise, made one of the most famous of -journeys around his room. [19] - -This manner of seeing country is within my means, always excepting the -post-chaise, which is too difficult to drive through the brambles. I go -the circuit of my enclosure over and over again, a hundred times, by -short stages; I stop here and I stop there; patiently, I put questions; -and, at long intervals, I receive some scrap of a reply. - -The smallest insect village has become familiar to me: I know each -fruit-branch where the Praying Mantis perches; each bush where the pale -Italian Cricket strums amid the calmness of the summer nights; each -wad-clad blade of grass scraped by the Anthidium, that maker of cotton -bags; each cluster of lilac worked by the Megachile, the leaf-cutter. - -If cruising among the nooks and corners of the garden do not suffice, a -longer voyage shows ample profit. I double the cape of the neighbouring -hedges and, at a few hundred yards, enter into relations with the -Sacred Beetle, the Capricorn, the Geotrupe, the Copris, the Dectus, the -Cricket, the Green Grasshopper, in short, with a host of tribes the -unfolding of whose story would exhaust a human life. Certainly, I have -plenty, I have too much to do with my near neighbours, without going -and wandering in distant regions. - -And then, besides, roaming the world, scattering one’s attention over a -host of subjects, is not observing. The travelling entomologist can -stick numerous species, the joy of the collector and the nomenclator, -into his boxes; but to gather circumstantial documents is a very -different matter. A Wandering Jew of science, he has no time to stop. -Where a prolonged stay would be necessary to study this or that fact, -he is hurried by the next stage. We must not expect the impossible of -him in these conditions. Let him pin his specimens to cork tablets, let -him steep them in tafia jars and leave to the sedentary the patient -observations that require time. - -This explains the extreme penury of history outside the dry -descriptions of the nomenclator. Overwhelming us with its numbers, the -exotic insect nearly always preserves the secret of its manners. -Nevertheless, it were well to compare what happens under our eyes with -that which happens elsewhere; it were excellent to see how, in the same -corporation of workers, the fundamental instinct varies with climatic -conditions. - -Then my travelling regrets return, vainer to-day than ever, unless one -could find a seat on the carpet of which we read in the Arabian Nights, -the famous carpet whereon one had but to sit to be carried -whithersoever he pleased. O marvellous conveyance, far preferable to -Xavier de Maistre’s post-chaise! If only I could find a little corner -on it, with a return-ticket! - -I do find it. I owe this unexpected good fortune to a Christian -Brother, to Brother Judulian, of the Lasalle College at Buenos Ayres. -His modesty would be offended by the praises which his debtor owes him. -Let us simply say that, acting on my instructions, his eyes take the -place of mine. He seeks, finds, observes, sends me his notes and his -discoveries. I observe, seek and find with him, by correspondence. - -It is done: thanks to this first-rate collaborator, I have my seat on -the magic carpet. Behold me in the pampas of the Argentine Republic, -eager to draw a parallel between the industry of the Dung-beetles of -Sérignan [20] and that of their rivals in the western hemisphere. - -A glorious beginning! An accidental find procures me, to start with, -Phanæus Milo, a magnificent insect, blue-black all over. The corselet -of the male juts forward, over the head, in a short, broad, flattened -horn, ending in a trident. The female replaces this ornament with -simple folds. Both carry, in front of their shield, two spikes which -form a trusty digging-implement and also a scalpel for dissecting. The -insect’s squat, sturdy, four-cornered build resembles that of Onitis -Olivieri, one of the rarities of the neighbourhood of Montpellier. - -If similarity of shape implied parity of work, we ought unhesitatingly -to attribute to Phanæus Milo short, thick puddings like those made by -Olivier’s Onitis. Alas, structure is a bad guide where the instinct is -concerned! The square-chined, short-legged Dung-worker excels in the -art of manufacturing gourds. The Sacred Beetle himself supplies none -that are more perfect nor, above all, more capacious. - -The thick-set insect astonishes me with the elegance of its work, which -is irreproachable in its geometry: the neck is less slender, but -nevertheless combines grace with strength. The model seems derived from -some Indian calabash, the more so as the neck opens wide and the belly -is engraved with an elegant guilloche, produced by the insect’s tarsi. -One seems to see a pitcher protected by a wicker-work covering. The -whole is able to attain and even exceed the size of a hen’s egg. - -It is a very curious piece of work and of a rare perfection, especially -when we consider the artist’s clumsy and massive build. Once again, the -tool does not make the workman, among Dung-beetles any more than among -ourselves. To guide the modeller there is something better than a set -of tools: there is what I would call the bump, the genius of the -animal. - -Phanæus Milo laughs at difficulties. He does more: he laughs at our -classifications. The word Dung-beetle implies a lover of dung. He sets -no value on it, either for his own use or for that of his offspring. -What he wants is the sanies of corpses. He is to be found under the -carcasses of birds, dogs or cats, in the company of the -undertakers-in-ordinary. The gourd of which I give a drawing overleaf -was lying in the earth under the remains of an owl. - -Let him who will explain this conjunction of the appetites of the -Necrophore with the talents of the Scarab. As for me, baffled by tastes -which no one would suspect from the mere appearance of the insect, I -give it up. - -I know in my neighbourhood one Dung-beetle and one alone who also works -among the remains of dead bodies. This is Onthophagus Ovatus (Lin.), a -constant frequenter of dead moles and rabbits. But the dwarf undertaker -does not on that account scorn stercoraceous fare: he feasts upon it -like the other Onthophagi. Perhaps there is a two-fold diet here: the -bun for the adult; the highly-spiced, far-gone meat for the grub. - -Similar facts are encountered elsewhere with different tastes. The -predatory Hymenopteron takes her fill of honey drawn from the nectaries -of the flowers, but feeds her little ones on game. Game first, then -sugar, for the same stomach. How that digestive pouch must change on -the road! And yet no more than our own, which scorns in later life that -which delighted it when young. - -Let us now examine the work of Phanæus Milo more thoroughly. The -calabashes came into my hands in a state of complete desiccation. They -are very nearly as hard as stone; their colour favours a pale -chocolate. Neither inside nor out does the lens discover the small -fibrous particle pointing to a residuum of grasses. The strange -Dung-beetle does not, therefore, employ the bovine cakes, nor anything -similar; he handles products of another class, which are pretty -difficult to specify at first. - -Held to the ear and shaken, the object sounds a little as would the -shell of a dry fruit with a stone lying free inside it. Does it contain -the grub, shrivelled by desiccation? Does it contain the dead insect? I -thought so, but I was wrong. It contains something much better than -that for our instruction. - -I carefully rip up the gourd with the point of the knife. Under a -homogeneous outer wall, the thickness of which reaches as much as two -centimetres [21] in the largest of my three specimens, is encased a -spherical kernel, which fills the cavity exactly, but without sticking -to the wall at any part. The trifle of free scope allowed to this -kernel accounts for the rattling which I heard when shaking the piece. - -The kernel does not differ from the wrapper in the colour and general -appearance of its bulk. But let us break it and examine the shreds. I -recognize tiny fragments of gold, flocks of down, threads of wool, -scraps of meat, the whole drowned in an earthy paste resembling -chocolate. - -Placed on a glowing coal, this paste, shredded under the lens and -deprived of its particles of dead bodies, becomes much darker, is -covered with shiny bubbles and sends forth puffs of that acrid smoke in -which we easily recognize burnt animal matter. The whole mass of the -kernel, therefore, is strongly impregnated with sanies. - -Treated in the same manner, the wrapper also turns dark, but not to the -same extent; it hardly smokes; it is not covered with jet-black -bubbles; lastly, it does not anywhere contain shreds of carcasses -similar to those in the central nut. In both cases, the residuum of the -calcination is a fine, reddish clay. - -This brief analysis tells us all about Phanæus Milo’s table. The fare -served to the grub is a sort of vol-au-vent. The sausage-meat consists -of a mince of all that the two scalpels of the shield and the toothed -knives of the fore-legs have been able to cut away from the carcass: -hair and down, crushed ossicles, strips of flesh and skin. Now hard as -brick, the thickening of that mince was originally a jelly of fine clay -soaked in the juice of corruption. Lastly, the puff-paste crust of our -vol-au-vent is here represented by a covering of the same clay, less -rich in extract of meat than the other. - -The pastry-cook gives his pie an elegant shape; he decorates it with -rosettes, with twists, with scrolls. Phanæus Milo is no stranger to -these culinary æsthetics. He turns the crust of his vol-au-vent into a -handsome gourd, ornamented with a finger-print guilloche. - -The outer covering, a disagreeable crust, insufficiently steeped in -savoury juices, is not, we can easily guess, intended for consumption. -It is possible that, somewhat later, when the stomach becomes robust -and is not repelled by coarse fare, the grub scrapes a little from the -wall of its pie; but, taken as a whole, until the adult insect emerges, -the calabash remains intact, having acted as a safeguard of the -freshness of the mince-meat at first and as a protecting box for the -recluse from start to finish. - -Above the cold pasty, right at the base of the neck of the gourd, is -contrived a round cell with a clay wall continuing the general wall. A -fairly thick floor, made of the same material, separates it from the -store-room. It is the hatching-chamber. Here is laid the egg, which I -find in its place, but dried up; here is hatched the worm, which, to -reach the nourishing ball, must previously open a trap-door through the -partition separating the two storeys. - -The worm is born in a little box surmounting the nourishing pile, but -not communicating with it. The budding grub must, therefore, at the -opportune moment, itself pierce the covering of the pot of preserves. -As a matter of fact, later, when the worm is on the sausage-meat, we -find the floor perforated with a hole just large enough for it to pass -through. - -Wrapped all round in a thick casing of pottery, the meat keeps fresh as -long as is required by the duration of the hatching-process, a detail -which I have not ascertained; in its cell, which is also of clay, the -egg lies safe. Capital: so far, all is well. Phanæus Milo is thoroughly -acquainted with the mysteries of fortification and the danger of -victuals evaporating too soon. There remain the breathing requirements -of the germ. - -To satisfy these, the insect has been equally well-inspired. The neck -of the calabash is pierced, in the direction of its axis, with a tiny -channel which would admit at most the thinnest of straws. Inside, this -conduit opens at the top of the dome of the hatching-chamber; outside, -at the tip of the nipple, it spreads into a wide mouth-piece. This is -the ventilating-shaft, protected against intruders by its extreme -narrowness and by grains of dust which obstruct it a little, without -stopping it up. It is simply marvellous, I said. Was I wrong? If a -construction of this sort is a fortuitous result, we must admit that -blind chance is gifted with extraordinary foresight. - -How does the awkward insect manage to carry so delicate and complex a -piece of building through? Exploring the pampas as I do through the -eyes of an intermediary, my only guide in this question is the -structure of the work, a structure whence we can deduct the workman’s -methods without going far wrong. I therefore imagine the labour to -proceed like this: a small carcass is found, the oozing of which has -softened the underlying loam. The insect collects more or less of this -loam, according to the richness of the vein. There are no precise -limits here. If the plastic material abound, the collector is lavish -with it and the provision-box becomes all the more solid. Then enormous -calabashes are obtained, exceeding a hen’s egg in volume and formed of -an outer wall a couple of centimetres thick. [22] But a mass of this -description is beyond the strength of the modeller, is badly handled -and betrays, in its outline, the clumsiness of an over-difficult task. -If the material be rare, the insect confines its harvesting to what is -strictly necessary; and then, freer in its movements, it obtains a -magnificently regular gourd. - -The loam is probably first kneaded into a ball and then scooped out -into a large and very thick cup, by means of the pressure of the -fore-legs and the work of the shield. Even thus do the Copris and the -Sacred Beetle act when preparing, on the top of their round ball, the -bowl in which the egg will be laid before the final manipulation of the -ovoid or pear. - -In this first business, Phanæus is simply a potter. So long as it be -plastic, any clay serves his turn, however meagrely it be saturated -with the juices emanating from the carcass. - -He now becomes a pork-butcher. With his toothed knife, he carves, he -saws some tiny shreds from the rotten animal; he tears off, cuts away -what he deems best suited to the grub’s entertainment. He collects all -these fragments and mixes them with choice loam in the spots where the -sanies abounds. The whole, cunningly kneaded and softened, becomes a -ball obtained on the spot, without any rolling process, in the same way -as the globe of the other pill-manufacturers. Let us add that this -ball, a ration calculated by the needs of the grub, is very nearly -constant in size, whatever the thickness of the final calabash. The -sausage-meat is now ready. It is set in place in the wide-open clay -bowl. Loosely packed, without compression, the food will remain free, -will not stick to its wrapper. - -Next, the potter’s work is renewed. The insect presses the thick lips -of the clayey cup, rolls them out and applies them to the forcemeat -preparation, which is eventually contained by a thin partition at the -top and by a thick layer every elsewhere. A large circular pad is left -on the top partition, which is slender in view of the weakness of the -grub that is to perforate it later, when making for the provisions. -Manipulated in its turn, this pad is converted into a hemispherical -hollow, in which the egg is forthwith laid. - -The work is finished by rolling out and joining the edges of the little -crater, which closes and becomes the hatching-chamber. Here, -especially, a delicate dexterity becomes essential. At the time that -the nipple of the calabash is being shaped, the insect, while packing -the material, must leave the little channel which is to form the -ventilating-shaft, following the line of the axis. This narrow conduit, -which an ill-calculated pressure might stop up beyond hope of remedy, -seems to me extremely difficult to obtain. The most skilful of our -potters could not manage it without the aid of a needle, which he would -afterwards withdraw. The insect, a sort of jointed automaton, obtains -its channel through the massive nipple of the gourd without so much as -a thought. If it did give it a thought, it would not succeed. - -The calabash is made: there remains the decoration. This is the work of -patient after-touches which perfect the curves and leave on the soft -loam a series of stippled impressions similar to those which the potter -of prehistoric days distributed with the end of his thumb over his -big-bellied jars. - -That ends the work. The insect will begin all over again under a fresh -carcass; for each burrow has one calabash and no more, even as with the -Sacred Beetle and her pears. - - - - - - - - - - -THE GEOTRUPES - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE GEOTRUPES: THE PUBLIC HEALTH - - -To complete the cycle of the year in the full-grown form, to see one’s -self surrounded by one’s sons at the spring festivals, to double and -treble one’s family: that surely is a most exceptional privilege in the -insect world. The Apids, the aristocracy of instinct, perish, once the -honey-pot is filled; the Butterflies, the aristocracy not of instinct, -but of dress, die when they have fastened their packet of eggs in a -propitious spot; the Carabids, richly cuirassed, succumb when the germs -of a posterity are scattered beneath the stones. - -So with the others, except among the gregarious insects, where the -mother survives, either alone or accompanied by her attendants. It is a -general law: the insect is born orphaned of both its parents. Now, by -an unexpected turn of fate, the humble scavenger escapes the stern -destiny that cuts down the proud. The Dung-beetle, sated with days, -becomes a patriarch and really deserves to do so, in consideration of -the services rendered. - -There is a general hygiene that calls for the disappearance, in the -shortest possible time, of every putrid thing. Paris has not yet solved -the formidable problem of her refuse, which sooner or later will become -a question of life or death for the monstrous city. One asks one’s self -whether the centre of light be not doomed to be extinguished one day in -the reeking exhalations of a soil saturated with rottenness. What this -agglomeration of millions of men cannot obtain, with all its treasures -of wealth and talent, the smallest hamlet possesses without going to -any expense or even troubling to think about it. - -Nature, so lavish of her cares in respect of rural health, is -indifferent to the welfare of cities, if not actively hostile to it. -She has created for the fields two classes of scavengers, whom nothing -wearies, whom nothing repels. One of these—consisting of Flies, -Silphids, Dermestes, Necrophores—is charged with the dissection of -corpses. They cut and hash, they elaborate the waste matter of death in -their stomachs in order to restore it to life. - -A mole ripped open by the plough-share soils the path with its -entrails, which soon turn purple; a snake lies on the grass, crushed by -the foot of a wayfarer who thought, the fool, that he was performing a -good work; an unfledged bird, fallen from its nest, has flattened -itself piteously at the foot of the tree that carried it; thousands of -other similar remains, of every sort and kind, are scattered here and -there, threatening danger through their effluvia, if nothing come to -establish order. Have no fear: no sooner is a corpse signalled in any -direction than the little undertakers come trotting along. They work -away at it, empty it, consume it to the bone, or at least reduce it to -the dryness of a mummy. In less than twenty-four hours, mole, snake, -bird have disappeared and the requirements of health are satisfied. - -The same zeal for their task prevails in the second class of -scavengers. The village hardly knows those ammonia-scented refuges -whither we repair, in the towns, to relieve our wretched needs. A -little wall no higher than that, a hedge, a bush is all that the -peasant asks as a retreat at the moment when he would fain be alone. I -need say no more to suggest the encounters to which such free and easy -manners expose you! Enticed by the patches of lichen, the cushions of -moss, the tufts of homewort and other pretty things that adorn old -stones, you go up to a sort of wall that supports the ground of a -vineyard. Ugh! At the foot of the daintily-decked shelter, what a -spreading abomination! You flee: lichens, mosses and homewort tempt you -no more. But come back on the morrow. The thing has disappeared, the -place is clean: the Dung-beetles have been that way. - -To preserve the eyes from offensive sights too oft repeated is, to -those gallant fellows, the least of offices: a loftier mission is -incumbent on them. Science tells us that the most dreadful scourges of -mankind have their agents in tiny organisms, the microbes, near -neighbours of must and mould, on the extreme confines of the vegetable -kingdom. The terrible germs multiply by countless myriads in the -intestinal discharges at times of epidemic. They contaminate the air -and water, those primary necessities of life; they spread over our -linen, our clothes, our food and thus diffuse contagion. We have to -destroy by fire, to sterilize with corrosives or to bury underground -such things as are soiled with them. - -Prudence even demands that we should never allow ordure to linger on -the surface of the ground. It may be harmless, it may be dangerous: -when in doubt, the best thing is to put it out of sight. That is how -ancient wisdom seems to have understood the thing, long before the -microbe explained to us the great need for vigilance. The nations of -the East, more exposed to epidemics than ourselves, had formal laws in -these matters. Moses, apparently echoing Egyptian knowledge in this -connection, prescribed the line of conduct for his people wandering in -the Arabian desert: - - - “Thou shalt have a place without the camp,” he says, “to which thou - mayst go for the necessities of nature, carrying a paddle at thy - girdle. And, when thou sittest down, thou shalt dig round about - and, with the earth that is dug up, thou shalt cover that which - thou art eased of.” (Deut., XXIII., xii–xiv.) - - -This is a precept of grave import in its simplicity. And we may well -believe that, if Islamism, at the time of its great pilgrimages to the -Kaaba, were to take the same precaution and a few more of a similar -character, Mecca would cease to be an annual seat of cholera and Europe -would not need to mount guard on the shores of the Red Sea to protect -herself against the scourge. - -Heedless of hygiene as the Arab, who was one of his ancestors, the -Provençal peasant does not suspect the danger. Fortunately, the -Dung-beetle, that faithful observer of the Mosaic edict, works. It is -his to remove from sight, it is his to bury the germ-crammed matter. - -Supplied with implements for digging far superior to the paddle which -the Israelite was to carry at his girdle when urgent business called -him from the camp, he hastens and, as soon as man is gone, digs a pit -wherein the infection is swallowed up and rendered harmless. - -The services rendered by these diggers are of the highest importance to -the health of the fields; yet we, who are mainly interested in this -constant work of purification, hardly vouchsafe those sturdy fellows a -contemptuous glance. Popular language overwhelms them with obnoxious -epithets. This appears to be the rule: do good and you shall be -misjudged, you shall be traduced, stoned, trodden underfoot, as witness -the toad, the bat, the hedgehog, the owl and other auxiliaries who, to -serve us, ask nothing but a little tolerance. - -Now, of our defenders against the dangers of filth spread shamelessly -in the rays of the sun, the most remarkable, in our climes, are the -Geotrupes: not that they are more zealous than the others, but because -their size makes them capable of bigger work. Moreover, when it becomes -simply a question of their nourishment, they resort by preference to -the materials which we have most to fear. - -My neighbourhood is worked by four Geotrupes. Two of them, Geotrupes -Mutator (Marsh) and Geotrupes Sylvaticus (Panz.), are rarities on which -we had best not count for connected studies; the two others, on the -contrary, Geotrupes Stercorarius (Lin.) and Geotrupes Hypocrita -(Schneid.), are exceedingly frequent. Black as ink above, both of them -are magnificently garbed below. One is quite surprised to find such a -jewel-case among the professional scavengers. Geotrupes Stercorarius is -of a splendid amethyst violet on his lower surface, while Geotrupes -Hypocrita is lavish with the ruddy gleams of copper pyrites. These are -the two inmates of my voleries. - -Let us ask them first of what feats they are capable as buriers. There -are a dozen, of the two species taken together. The cage is previously -swept clean of what remains of the former provisions, hitherto supplied -without stint. This time, I propose to arrive at what a Geotrupe can -put away at a sitting. At sunset, I serve to my twelve captives the -whole of a heap which a mule has just dropped in front of my door. -There is plenty of it, enough to fill a basket. - -On the morning of the next day, the mass has disappeared underground. -There is nothing left outside, or very nearly nothing. I am able to -make a fairly close estimate and I find that each of my Geotrupes, -presuming each of the twelve to have done an equal share of the work, -has stowed away very nearly a cubic decimetre [23] of matter. A Titanic -task, if we remember the insignificant size of the animal, which, -moreover, has to dig the warehouse to which the booty must be lowered. -And all this is done in the space of a night. - -So well provided, will they remain quietly underground with their -treasure? Not they! The weather is magnificent. The hour of twilight -comes, gentle and calm. This is the time of the great flights, the -mirthful hummings, the distant explorations on the roads by which the -herds have lately passed. My lodgers abandon their cellars and mount to -the surface. I hear them buzzing, climbing up the wirework, knocking -themselves wildly against the walls. I have anticipated this twilight -animation. Provisions have been collected during the day, plentiful as -those of yesterday. I serve them. There is the same disappearance -during the night. On the morrow, the place is once again swept clean. -And this would continue indefinitely, so fine are the evenings, if I -always had at my disposal the wherewithal to satisfy those insatiable -hoarders. - -Rich though his booty be, the Geotrupe leaves it at sunset to sport in -the last gleams of daylight and to go in search of a new workplace. -With him, one would say, the wealth acquired does not count; the only -valid thing is that to be acquired. Then what does he do with his -warehouses, renewed, in favourable times, at each new twilight? It is -obvious that Stercorarius is incapable of consuming provisions so -plentiful in a single night. He has such a superabundance of victuals -in his larder that he does not know how to dispose of them; he is -surfeited with good things by which he will not profit; and, not -satisfied with having his store crammed, the acquisitive plutocrat -slaves, night after night, to store away more. - -From each warehouse, set up here, set up there, as things happen, he -deducts the daily meal beforehand; the rest, that is to say, almost the -whole, he abandons. My voleries testify to the fact that this instinct -for burying is more exacting than the consumer’s appetite. The ground -is soon raised, in consequence; and I am obliged, from time to time, to -lower the level to the desired limits. If I dig it up, I find it -choked, throughout its depth, with hoards that have remained intact. -The original earth has become an inextricable conglomerate, which I -must prune with a free hand, if I would not go astray in my future -observations. - -Allowing for errors, either of excess or deficiency, which are -inevitable in a subject that does not admit of precise gauging, one -point stands out very clearly from my enquiry: the Geotrupes are -passionate buriers; they take underground a deal more than is necessary -for their consumption. As this work is performed, in varying degrees, -by legions of collaborators, large and small, it is evident that the -purification of the soil must benefit by it to an ample extent and that -the public health is to be congratulated on having this army of -auxiliaries in its service. - -In other respects, the plant and, indirectly, a host of different -existences are interested in these interments. What the Geotrupe buries -and abandons the next day is not lost: far from it. Nothing is lost in -the world’s balance-sheet; the stock-taking total is constant. The -little lump of dung buried by the insect will make the nearest tuft of -grass grow a luxuriant green. A sheep passes, crops the bunch of grass: -all the better for the leg of mutton which man is waiting for. The -Dung-beetle’s industry has procured us a savoury mouthful. - -In September and October, when the first autumn rains soak the ground -and allow the Sacred Beetle to split his natal casket, Geotrupes -Stercorarius and Geotrupes Hypocrita found their family-establishments, -somewhat makeshift establishments, in spite of what we might have -expected from the name of those miners, so well-styled Geotrupes, that -is to say, “Earth-borers.” When he has to dig himself a retreat that -shall shelter him against the rigours of winter, the Geotrupe really -deserves his name: none can compare with him for the depth of the pit -or the perfection and rapidity of the work. In sandy ground, easily -excavated, I have dug up some that had attained the depth of a metre. -[24] Others carried their digging further still, tiring both my -patience and my implements. There you have the skilled well-sinker, the -incomparable Earth-borer. When the cold sets in, he can go down to some -layer where frost has lost its terrors. - -The lodging of the family is another matter. The propitious season is a -short one; time would fail, if each individual grub had to be endowed -with one of those manor-houses. That the insect should devote the -leisure which the approach of winter gives it to digging a hole of -unlimited depth is a capital thing: it makes the retreat doubly safe; -and activity, not yet quite suspended, has for the moment no other -occupation. But, at laying-time, these laborious undertakings are -impossible. The hours pass swiftly. In four or five weeks, a pretty -numerous family has to be housed and victualled, which puts a long, -patiently-sunk pit entirely out of the question. - -The burrow dug by the Geotrupe for the benefit of her grub is hardly -deeper than that of the Copris or the Sacred Beetle, notwithstanding -the difference of the seasons. Three decimetres, [25] roughly speaking: -that is all that I find in the fields, where nothing occurs to limit -the depth. - -The contents of the rustic dwelling take the form of a sort of sausage -or pudding, which fills the lower part of the cylinder and fits it -exactly. Its length is not far short of a couple of decimetres [26]. -This sausage is almost always irregular in shape, now curved, now more -or less dented. These imperfections of the surface are due to the -accidents of a stony ground, which the insect does not always excavate -according to the canons of its art, which favours the straight line and -the perpendicular. The moulded material faithfully reproduces all the -irregularities of its mould. The lower extremity is rounded off like -the bottom of the burrow itself; at the lower end of the sausage is the -hatching-chamber, a round cavity which could hold a fair-sized -hazel-nut. The respiratory needs of the germ demand that the side-walls -should be thin enough to allow easy access to the air. Inside, I catch -the gleam of a greenish, semi-fluid plaster, a dainty which the mother -has disgorged to form the first mouthfuls of the budding worm. - -In this round hole lies the egg, without adhering in any way to the -surrounding walls. It is a white, elongated ellipsoid and is of -remarkable bulk in proportion to the insect. In the case of Geotrupes -Stercorarius, it measures seven to eight millimetres in length by four -in its greatest width. [27] The egg of Geotrupes Hypocrita is a little -smaller. - - - - - - - - - - -MINOTAURUS TYPHŒUS - - -CHAPTER X - -MINOTAURUS TYPHŒUS - - -To describe the insect that forms the subject of this chapter, -scientific nomenclature joins two formidable names: that of the -Minotaur, Minos’ bull fed on human flesh in the crypts of the Cretan -labyrinth; and that of Typhœus, one of the giants, sons of Terra, who -tried to scale the heavens. Thanks to the clue of thread which he -received from Minos’ daughter Ariadne, Theseus the Athenian found the -Minotaur, slew him and made his escape, safe and sound, after -delivering his country for ever from the dreadful tribute destined for -the monster’s food. - -Typhœus, struck by a thunderbolt on his heaped-up mountains, was hurled -under Mount Etna. He is there still. His breath is the smoke of the -volcano. When he coughs, he spits out streams of lava; when he shifts -his position from one shoulder to the other, he puts Sicily aflutter; -he shakes her with an earthquake. - -It is not unpleasant to find an echo of these old fables in the history -of animals. Mythological denominations, so resonant and pleasing to the -ear, entail no inconsistencies with reality, a fault that is not always -avoided by the terms compiled wholly of data gathered from the lexicon. -When vague analogies, in addition, connect the fabled with the -historical, then surnames and forenames both become very happy. Such is -the case with Minotaurus Typhœus (Lin.). - -It is the name given to a fair-sized black coleopteron, closely related -to the Earth-borers, the Geotrupes. He is a peaceable, inoffensive -creature, but even better-horned than Minos’ bull. None among our -harness-loving insects wears so threatening an armour. The male carries -on his corselet a sheaf consisting of three steeled spears, parallel to -one another and jutting forward. Imagine him the size of a bull; and -Theseus himself, if he met him in the fields, would hardly dare to face -his terrible trident. - -The Typhœus of the legend had the ambition to sack the home of the gods -by stacking one upon the other a pile of mountains torn from their -base; the Typhœus of the naturalists does not climb: he descends; he -bores the ground to enormous depths. The first, with a movement of the -shoulder, sets a province heaving; the second, with a thrust of its -chine, makes his mole-hill tremble as Etna trembles when he stirs who -lies buried within her depths. - -Such is the insect wherewith we are concerned. - -But what is the use of this history, what the use of all this minute -research? I well know that it will not produce a fall in the price of -pepper, a rise in that of crates of rotten cabbages, or other serious -events of this kind, which cause fleets to be manned and set people -face to face intent upon one another’s extermination. The insect does -not aim at so much glory. It confines itself to showing us life in the -inexhaustible variety of its manifestations; it helps us to decipher in -some small measure the obscurest book of all, the book of ourselves. - -The insect is easy to obtain, cheap to feed and not repulsive to -examine organically; and it lends itself far better than the higher -animals to the investigations of our curiosity. Besides, the others are -our near neighbours and do but repeat a somewhat monotonous theme, -whereas the insect, with its unparalleled wealth of instincts, habits -and structure, reveals a new world to us, much as though we were -conferring with the natives of another planet. This is the reason that -makes me constantly renew my unwearied relations with the insect and -hold it in such high esteem. - -Minotaurus Typhœus favours the open sandy places where, on their way to -the grazing-ground, the flocks of sheep scatter their trails of black -pellets which constitute his regulation fare. Couples jointly addicted -to nest-building begin to meet in the first days of March. The two -sexes, until then isolated in surface-burrows, are now associated for a -long time to come. - -Do the husband and wife recognize each other among their fellows? Are -they mutually faithful? Cases of breach of matrimony are very rare, in -fact unknown, on the part of the mother, who has long ceased to leave -the house; on the other hand, they are frequent on the part of the -father, whose duties often oblige him to come outside. As will be seen -presently, he is, throughout his life, the purveyor of victuals and the -person entrusted with the carriage of the rubbish. Alone, at different -hours of the day, he flings out of doors the earth thrown up by the -mother’s excavations; alone he explores the vicinity of the home at -night, in quest of the pellets whereof his sons’ loaves shall be -kneaded. - -Sometimes, two burrows are side by side. Cannot the collector of -provisions, on returning home, easily mistake the door and enter -another’s house? On his walks abroad, does he never happen to meet -ladies taking the air who have not yet settled down; and is he, then, -not forgetful of his first mate and ready for divorce? The question -deserved to be examined. I tried to solve it in the manner that -follows. - -Two couples are taken from the ground at a time when the excavations -are in full swing. Indelible marks, contrived with the point of a -needle on the lower edge of the elytra, will enable me to distinguish -them one from the other. The four subjects of my experiment are -distributed at random, one by one, over the surface of a sandy area a -couple of spans thick. A soil of this depth will be sufficient for the -excavations of a night. In case provisions should be needed, a handful -of sheep-droppings is served. A large reversed earthen pan covers the -arena, prevents escape and produces the darkness favourable to mental -concentration. - -The next morning provides a splendid response. There are two burrows in -the establishment, no more; the couples have formed again as they were: -each Jack has his Jill. A second experiment, made next day, and a third -meet with the same success: those marked with a point are together, -those not marked are together, at the bottom of the gallery. - -Five times more, day after day, I make them set up house anew. Things -now begin to be spoilt. Sometimes, each of the four that are being -experimented on settles apart; sometimes, the same burrow contains the -two males or the two females; sometimes, the same crypt receives the -two sexes, but differently associated from what they were at the start. -I have abused my powers of repetition. Henceforth disorder reigns. My -daily shufflings have demoralized the burrowers; a crumbling home, -always requiring to be begun afresh, has put an end to lawful -associations. Respectable married life becomes impossible from the -moment when the house falls in from day to day. - -No matter: the first three experiments, made when alarms, time after -time repeated, had not yet tangled the delicate connecting thread, seem -to point to a certain constancy in the Minotaurus household. He and she -know each other, find each other in the tumult of events which my -mischievous doings force upon them; they show each other a mutual -fidelity, a very unusual quality in the insect class, which is but too -prone to forget its matrimonial obligations. - -We recognize one another by our speech, by the sound, the inflection of -our voices. They, on the other hand, are dumb, deprived of all means of -vocal appeal. There remains the sense of smell. Minotaurus finding his -mate makes me think of my friend Tom, the house-dog, who, at his moony -periods, lifts his nose in the air, sniffs the breeze and jumps over -the garden-walls, eager to obey the distant and magical convocation; he -puts me in mind of the Great Peacock Moth, who swiftly covers several -miles to pay his homage to the new-hatched maid. - -The comparison, however, is far from perfect. The dog and the big Moth -get wind of the wedding before they know the bride. Minotaurus, on the -other hand, has no experience of long pilgrimages, yet makes his way, -in a brief circuit, to her whom he has already visited; he knows her, -he distinguishes her from the others by certain emanations, certain -individual scents inappreciable to any save the enamoured swain. Of -what do these effluvia consist? The insect did not tell me; and that is -a pity, for it would have taught us things worth knowing about its -feats of smell. - -Now how is the work divided in this household? To discover this is not -one of those easy undertakings for which the point of a knife suffices. -He who proposes to visit the burrowing insect at home must have -recourse to arduous sapping. We have here to do not with the apartment -of the Sacred Beetle, the Copris or the others, which is soon laid bare -with a mere pocket-trowel: we have to do with a pit the bottom of which -can be reached only with a stout spade, sturdily wielded for hours at a -stretch. And, if the sun be at all hot, one returns from the drudgery -utterly exhausted. - -Oh, my poor joints, grown rusty with age! To suspect the existence of a -fine problem underground and not to be able to dig! The zeal survives, -as ardent as in the days when I used to pull down the spongy slopes -beloved by the Anthophora; the love of research has not abated, but the -strength is lacking. Luckily, I have an assistant, in the shape of my -son Paul, who lends me the vigour of his wrists and the suppleness of -his loins. I am the head, he is the arm. - -The rest of the family, including the mother—and she not the least -eager—usually go with us. One cannot have too many eyes when the pit -becomes deep and one has to observe from a distance the minute -documents exhumed by the spade. What the one misses the other -perceives. Huber, [28] when he went blind, studied the bee through the -intermediary of a clear-sighted and devoted adjutrix. I am even -better-off than the great Swiss naturalist. My sight, which is still -fairly good, although exceedingly tired, is aided by the deep-seeing -eyes of all my family. I owe to them the fact that I am able to pursue -my researches: let me thank them here. - -We are on the spot early in the morning. We soon find a burrow with a -large mole-hill formed of cylindrical stoppers forced out in one lump -by blows of the rammer. We clear away the mound and a pit of great -depth opens below it. A useful reed, gathered on the way, serves me as -a guide, diving lower and lower down. At last, at about five feet, the -reed touches bottom. We are there, we have reached Minotaurus’ chamber. - -The pocket-trowel prudently lays things bare and we see the occupants -appear: the male first and, a little lower, the female. When the couple -are removed, a dark, circular patch shows: this is the end of the -column of victuals. Careful now and let us dig gently! What we have to -do is to cut away the central clod at the bottom of the vat, to isolate -it from the surrounding earth and then, slipping the trowel underneath -and using it as a lever, to extract the block all in a lump. There! -That’s done it! We possess the couple and their nest. A morning of -arduous digging has procured us those treasures: Paul’s steaming back -could tell us at the price of what efforts. - -This depth of five feet is not and could not be constant; numbers of -causes induce it to vary, such as the degree of freshness and -consistency of the soil traversed, the insect’s passion for work and -the time available, according to the more or less remote date of the -laying. I have seen burrows go a little lower; I have seen others reach -barely three feet. In any case, Minotaurus, to settle his family, -requires a lodging of exaggerated depth, such as is dug by no other -burrowing insect of my acquaintance. Presently we shall have to ask -ourselves what are the imperious needs that oblige the collector of -sheep-droppings to reside so low down in the earth. - -Before leaving the spot, let us note a fact the evidence of which will -be of value later. The female was right at the bottom of the burrow; -above her, at some distance, was the male: both were struck motionless -with fright in the midst of an occupation the nature whereof we are not -yet able to specify. This detail, observed repeatedly in the different -burrows excavated, seems to show that each of the two fellow-workers -has a fixed place. - -The mother, more skilled in nursery matters, occupies the lower floor. -She alone digs, versed as she is in the properties of the -perpendicular, which economizes work while giving the greatest depth. -She is the engineer, always in touch with the working-face of the -gallery. The other is her journeyman-mason. He is stationed at the -back, ready to load the rubbish on his horny hod. Later, the excavatrix -becomes a baker: she kneads the cakes for the children into cylinders; -the father is then her baker’s boy. He fetches her from outside the -wherewithal for making flour. As in every well-regulated household, the -mother is minister of the interior, the father minister of the -exterior. This would explain their invariable position in the tubular -home. The future will tell us if these conjectures represent the -reality as it is. - -For the moment, let us make ourselves at home and examine at leisure -the central clod so laboriously acquired. It contains preserved -foodstuffs in the shape of a sausage nearly as long and thick as one’s -finger. This is composed of a dark, compact matter, arranged in layers, -which we recognize as the sheep-pellets reduced to morsels. Sometimes, -the dough is fine and almost homogeneous from one end of the cylinder -to the other; more often, the piece is a sort of hardbake, in which -large fragments are held together by a cement of amalgam. The baker -apparently varies the more or less finished confection of her pastry -according to the time at her disposal. - -The thing is closely moulded in the terminal pocket of the burrow, -where the walls are smoother and more carefully fashioned than in the -rest of the pit. The point of the knife easily strips it of the -surrounding earth, which peels like a rind or bark. In this way, I -obtain the food-cylinder free of any earthy blemish. - -Having done this, let us look into the matter of the egg; for the -pastry has certainly been manipulated in view of a grub. Guided by what -I learnt some time ago from the Geotrupes, who lodge the egg at the -lower end of their pudding, in a special recess contrived in the very -heart of the provisions, I expect to find Minotaurus’ egg right at the -bottom of the sausage. I am ill-informed. The egg sought for is not at -the expected end, nor at the other end, nor at any point whatever of -the victuals. - -A search outside the provisions shows it me at last. It is below the -food, in the sand itself, deprived of all the finikin cares dear to -mothers. There is here not a smooth-walled cell, such as the delicate -epidermis of the new-born grub would seem to call for, but a rough -cavity, the result of a mere landslip rather than of maternal industry. -The worm is to be hatched in this rude berth, at some distance from its -provisions. To reach the food, it will have to demolish and pass -through a ceiling of sand some millimetres thick. - -With insects held captive in an apparatus of my invention, I have -succeeded in tracing the construction of that sausage. The father goes -out and selects a pellet whose length is greater than the diameter of -the pit. He conveys it to the mouth, either backwards, by dragging it -with his forefeet, or straight ahead, by rolling it along with little -strokes of his shield. He reaches the edge of the hole. Will he hurl -the lump down the precipice with one last push? Not at all: he has -plans that are incompatible with a violent fall. - -He enters, embracing the pellet with his legs and taking care to -introduce it by one end. On reaching a certain distance from the -bottom, he has only to slant the piece slightly to make it find a -support at its two ends against the walls of the channel: this because -of the greater length of its main axis. He thus obtains a sort of -temporary flooring suited to receive the burden of two or three -pellets. The whole forms the workshop in which the father means to do -his task without disturbing the mother, who is fully engaged below. It -is the mill whence will be lowered the semolina for making the cakes. - -The miller is well-equipped for his work. Look at his trident. On the -solid basis of the corselet stand three sharp spears, the two outer -ones long, the middle one short, all three pointing forwards. What -purpose does this weapon serve? At first sight, one would take it for a -masculine decoration, one of so many others, of very varied forms, worn -by the corporation of Dung-beetles. Well, it is something more than an -ornament: Minotaurus turns his gaud into a tool. - -The three unequal points describe a concave arch, wide enough to admit -a spherical sheep-dropping. Standing on his imperfect and shaky floor, -which demands the employment of his four hind-legs, propped against the -walls of the perpendicular channel, how will Minotaurus manage to keep -the elusive olive in position and break it up? Let us watch him at -work. - -Stooping a little, he digs his fork into the piece, thenceforth -rendered stationary, for it is caught between the prongs of the -implement. The fore-legs are free; with their toothed armlets they can -saw the morsel, lacerate it and reduce it to particles which gradually -fall through the crevices of the flooring and reach the mother below. - -The substance which the miller sends scooting down is not a flour -passed through the bolting-machine, but a coarse grain, a mixture of -pulverized remnants and of pieces hardly ground at all. Incomplete -though it be, this preliminary trituration is of the greatest -assistance to the mother in her tedious job of bread-making: it -shortens the work and allows the best and the middling to be separated -straight away. When everything, including the floor itself, is ground -to powder, the horned miller returns to the upper air, gathers a fresh -harvest and recommences his shredding labours at leisure. - -Nor is the baker inactive in her laboratory. She collects the remnants -pouring down around her, subdivides them yet further, refines them and -makes her selection: this, the tenderer part, for the central crumb; -that, tougher, for the crust of the loaf. Turning this way and that, -she pats the material with the battledore of her flattened arms; she -arranges it in layers, which presently she compresses by stamping on -them where they lie, much after the manner of a vine-grower treading -his vintage. Rendered firm and compact, the mass will keep better and -longer. - -After some ten days of this united labour, the couple at last obtain -the long, cylindrical loaf. The father has done the grinding, the -mother the kneading. - -I have even succeeded in watching the digging of this very deep burrow, -thanks to a complicated series of artifices which it would take too -long to set forth here. The mother is at the bottom of the pit: she -alone attacks the working-face, she alone digs. The male keeps at the -back of his spouse. He gradually collects the rubbish and makes a load -of it which he lifts with his three-pronged fork and hoists outside -with much exhausting labour. - -This is the moment to recapitulate Minotaurus’ merits. When the great -colds are over, he sets out in quest of a mate, buries himself with her -and thenceforth remains faithful to her, despite his frequent -excursions out of doors and the meetings to which these are likely to -lead. With indefatigable zeal, he assists the burrower, herself -destined never to leave her home until the emancipation of the family. -For a month and more, he loads the rubbish of the excavation on his -forked hod; he hoists it outside and remains ever patient, never -disheartened by his arduous feats of climbing. He leaves the -comparatively easy work of the excavating rake to the mother and keeps -the more troublesome task, the exhausting carriage through a narrow, -very high and perpendicular gallery, for himself. - -Next, the navvy turns himself into a collector of foodstuffs; he goes -after provisions, he gathers the wherewithal for his sons to live upon. -To facilitate the work of his mate, who shreds, stratifies and -compresses the preserves, he once more changes his trade and becomes a -miller. At some distance from the bottom, he bruises and crumbles the -matter found hardened by the sun; he makes it into semolina and flour -that gradually pour down into the maternal bakery. Lastly, worn out by -his efforts, he leaves the house and goes to die outside, at a -distance, in the open air. He has gallantly performed his duty as a -paterfamilias; he has spent himself without stint to secure the -prosperity of his kith and kin. - -The mother, on her side, allows nothing to divert her from her -housekeeping. Throughout her working life, she never leaves her home: -domi mansit, as the ancients used to say, speaking of their model -matrons; domi mansit, kneading her cylindrical loaves, filling them -with an egg, watching them until the exodus arrives. When the day comes -for the autumnal merry-makings, she at last returns to the surface, -accompanied by the young people, who disperse at will to feast in the -regions frequented by the sheep. Thereupon, having nothing left to do, -the devoted mother perishes. - -Yes, amid the general indifference of fathers for their sons, -Minotaurus displays a very remarkable zeal where his family are -concerned. Forgetful of himself, refusing to be led away by the -delights of spring, when it would be so pleasant to see a little -country, to banquet with his fellows, to tease and flirt with his fair -neighbours, he sticks to his work underground and wears himself out so -as to leave a fortune to his descendants. Here is one who, when he -stiffens his legs for the last time, is well entitled to say: - -“I have done my duty; I have worked.” - - - - - - - - - - -THE TWO-BANDED SCOLIA - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE TWO-BANDED SCOLIA - - -If strength were to take precedence of other zoological attributes, the -Scoliæ would reign in the first rank, in the order of the Hymenoptera. -Some of them can be compared in size with the little orange-crested -northern Wren, the Kinglet, who comes down to us, to visit the maggoty -buds, at the time of the first autumnal mists. The largest, the most -imposing of our sting-carriers, the Humble-bee, the Hornet, cut a poor -figure beside certain Scoliæ. Among this group of giants, my region -boasts the Common or Garden Scolia (Scolia Hortorum, van der Lind), who -exceeds four centimetres [29] in length and measures ten [30] from tip -to tip of her outstretched wings, and the Hemorrhoidal Scolia (Scolia -Hemorrhoïdalis, van der Lind), who vies in dimensions with the Garden -Scolia and is distinguished from her, in the main, by the brush of red -bristles at the tip of her belly. - -A black livery, with broad yellow patches; tough wings amber as an -onion-skin and shot with purple reflections; coarse, knotted legs, -bristling with rugged hairs; a massive build; a powerful head, helmeted -with a hard skull; a stiff and clumsy gait; a short, silent flight, -devoid of soaring qualities: this, in few words, describes the -appearance of the female, powerfully equipped for her severe task. That -love-lorn idler, the male, is more gracefully horned, more daintily -clad, more elegantly shaped, without altogether losing the character of -sturdiness which is the predominant feature in his mate. - -It is not without qualms that the insect-collector finds himself for -the first time in the presence of the Garden Scolia. How is he to -capture the commanding brute, how to protect himself against its sting? -If the effect of the sting be in proportion to the Hymenopteron’s size, -then a prick from the Scolia is something to be dreaded. The Hornet, -once he lugs out, hurts us atrociously. What, then, would it be like if -one were stabbed by this colossus? The prospect of a swelling the size -of your fist and as painful as though it were blistered by a red-hot -iron passes through your mind, just as you are about to cast the net. -And you refrain, you beat a retreat, only too glad not to have aroused -the attention of the dangerous animal. - -Yes, I confess to having quailed before my first Scoliæ, eager though I -was to enrich my incipient collection with this glorious insect. -Smarting recollections left behind by the Wasp and the Hornet had -something to say to this excessive prudence. I say excessive, for -to-day, taught by long experience, I have got the better of my former -fears and, if I see a Scolia resting on a thistle-head, I have no -scruples about taking her in the tips of my fingers, with no precaution -of any kind, threatening though her aspect be. My pluck is only -apparent, as I am pleased to inform the novice at Hymenopteron-hunting. -The Scoliæ are very peaceful. Their sting is an implement of work much -rather than a weapon of war: they use it to paralyze the prey intended -for their family; and only in the last extremity do they employ it in -their own defence. Moreover, the lack of suppleness in their movements -enables one nearly always to avoid the sting; and, lastly, if one were -stung, the pain of the prick is almost insignificant. This absence of a -bitter smart in the poison is a pretty constant fact among the -game-hunting Hymenoptera, whose weapon is a surgical lancet intended -for the most delicate physiological operations. - -Among the other Scoliæ of my district, I will mention the middle-sized -Two-banded Scolia (Scolia Bifasciata, van der Lind), whom I see yearly, -in September, exploiting the manure-heaps of dead leaves arranged, for -her benefit, in a corner of my yard. Let us watch her performance -comfortably indoors. - -After the Cerceris, it is well to study others, hunting an unarmed -prey, a prey vulnerable at all points save the skull, but giving only a -single prick with the sting. Of these two conditions, the Scoliæ -fulfilled one, with their regulation game, the soft grub of Cetonia, -Oryctes or Anoxia, according to their species. Did they fulfil the -second? I was convinced beforehand, judging from the anatomy of the -victims, with its concentrated nervous system, that the sting was -unsheathed but once; I even foresaw the point in which the weapon must -be thrust. - -These were statements dictated by the anatomist’s scalpel, without the -least direct proof from observed facts. Stratagems accomplished -underground escaped the eye and seemed to me bound always to escape it. -How, indeed, could one hope that an animal whose art is practised in -the darkness of a manure-heap should be persuaded to work in the full -light of day? I did not reckon on it in the least. Nevertheless, for -conscience’ sake, I tried putting the Scolia in touch with her quarry -under glass. And it was well that I did so, for my success was in the -inverse ratio to my expectations. Never did beast of prey show greater -zeal in attacking under artificial conditions. Every insect -experimented upon rewarded me, sooner or later, for my patience. Let us -watch Scolia Bifasciata at work, operating on her Cetonia grub. - -The captive grub tries to escape its terrible neighbour. Turned over on -its back according to its custom, it shuffles along eagerly, going -round and round the glass arena. Soon, the Scolia’s attention is -aroused and is evinced by continual little taps of the tips of its -antennæ upon the table, which now represents the customary soil. The -Hymenopteron falls upon her prey and attacks the monstrous meal by the -hinder end. She climbs upon the Cetonia, using the abdominal extremity -as a lever. The assaulted grub does nothing but scud all the faster on -its back, without rolling itself into a defensive posture. The Scolia -reaches the front part, after falls and accidents that vary greatly, -according to the degree of tolerance of the grub, her temporary mount. -With her mandibles, she nips a point on the upper surface of the -thorax; she places herself across the grub, curves herself into an arch -and tries to touch with the point of her belly the region where the -sting is to be darted. The arch is a little too short to embrace almost -the whole circuit of the corpulent prey, for which reason the efforts -and attempts are made over and over again, at great length. The tip of -the abdomen makes untold exertions, applies itself here, there and -elsewhere and, as yet, stops nowhere. This tenacious searching in -itself proves the importance which the paralyzer attaches to the spot -at which its bistoury is to enter. - -Meanwhile, the grub continues to move along on its back. Suddenly, it -buckles and, with a jerk of the head, flings the enemy to a distance. -Undaunted by all her failures, the Hymenopteron stands up, brushes her -wings and recommences the assault of the colossus, almost always by -clambering on the grub by the rear extremity. At last, after any number -of fruitless attempts, the Scolia succeeds in attaining the proper -position. She lies across the grub; her mandibles hold a point of the -thorax on the dorsal face tight-gripped; her body, curved into an arch, -passes under the grub and reaches the neighbourhood of the neck with -the tip of the belly. Placed in grave danger, the Cetonia twists, -buckles, unbuckles, turns and writhes. The Scolia does not interfere. -Holding her victim in a close embrace, she turns with it, allows -herself to be dragged above, below, aside, at the mercy of the -contortions. So fierce is her determination that I am now able to -remove the glass bell and watch the details of the drama in the open. - -Soon, notwithstanding the tumult, the tip of the Scolia’s belly feels -that the suitable point is found. Then and not till then is the dart -unsheathed. It is driven home. The thing is done. The grub, but now -active and swollen, suddenly becomes inert and limp. It is paralyzed. -Henceforth, all movement ceases, save in the antennæ and mouth-pieces, -which will continue for a long time to declare a remnant of life. - -The place of the wound has never varied in the series of struggles -under the glass bell: it occupies the middle of the dividing line -between the prothorax and the mesothorax, on the ventral surface. Let -us observe that the Cerceris, who operates upon Weevils, which insects -have a concentrated nervous chain like that of the Cetonia grub, -inserts her sting at the same point. The similarity of the nervous -organization occasions a similarity of method. Let us observe also that -the sting of the Scolia remains for some time in the wound and rummages -with a pronounced persistency. To judge by the movements of the tip of -the abdomen, one would say that the weapon is exploring and selecting. -Free to turn about as it pleases within narrow limits, the sting’s -point is probably searching for the little bundle of nerves which it -must prick, or at least sprinkle with poison, in order to obtain a -withering paralysis. - -I will not end my report of the duel without relating a few more facts, -of minor importance. The Two-banded Scolia is an ardent persecutor of -the Cetonia. At one sitting, the same mother stabs three grubs, one -after the other, before my eyes. She refuses the fourth, perhaps -through fatigue, or because her poison-phial is exhausted. Her refusal -is but temporary. The next day, she begins anew and paralyzes two -worms; the following day again, but with a zeal that diminishes from -day to day. - -The other predatory insects that go on long hunting-expeditions embrace -the prey which they have rendered lifeless, drag it, convey it, each in -its own fashion, and, laden with their burden, long try to escape from -the bell and to reach the burrow. Disheartened by vain attempts, they -abandon it at last. The Scolia does not move her prey, which lies -indefinitely on its back at the spot of sacrifice. After drawing her -dagger from the wound, she leaves her victim alone and starts -fluttering against the walls of the bell, without troubling about it -further. Things must happen in the same way in the manure-heap, under -normal conditions. The paralyzed morsel is not carried elsewhither, to -a special cellar: where the struggle occurred, there it receives, on -its spread belly, the egg whence the consumer of the succulent dainty -will presently emerge. This saves the expense of a house. It goes -without saying that the Scolia does not lay under glass: the mother is -too prudent to expose her egg to the dangers of the open air. - -A second detail strikes me: the fierce persistency of the Scolia. I -have seen the fight prolonged for a good quarter of an hour, with -frequent alternations of successes and reverses, before the -Hymenopteron achieved the requisite position and reached with the tip -of her belly the point at which the sting must enter. During her -assaults, which are resumed as soon as repelled, the aggressor -repeatedly applies the extremity of her abdomen against the grub, but -without unsheathing; for I should perceive this by the start of the -animal injured by the prick. The Scolia, therefore, does not sting the -Cetonia anywhere until the desired point offers beneath the weapon. The -fact that no wounds are made elsewhere is not in any way due to the -structure of the grub, which is soft and penetrable at all points, -except the skull. The spot sought by the sting is no less -well-protected than the others by the dermal wrapper. - -In the struggle, the Scolia, curved archwise, is sometimes caught in -the vice of the Cetonia, which forcibly contracts and buckles itself. -Heedless of the rough embrace, the Hymenopteron does not let go with -either her teeth or her ventral tip. Then follows a confused scuffle -between the two locked insects, of which first one and next the other -is on the top. When the grub succeeds in ridding itself of its enemy, -it unrolls itself afresh, stretches itself at full length and proceeds -to paddle along on its back with all possible speed. Its defensive -artifices amount to no more than this. At an earlier period, when I had -not yet seen for myself and was obliged to take probability for my -guide, I was willing to grant it the trick of the hedgehog, who rolls -himself into a ball and defies the dog. I thought that, doubled up, -with a force which my fingers had some difficulty in overcoming, it -would in like manner defy the Scolia, who was powerless to unroll it -and disdainful of any point but that of her choice. I wished the grub -to possess and I believed that it did possess this very simple and -efficacious means of defence. But I had too great confidence in its -ingenuity. Instead of copying the hedgehog and remaining contracted, it -flees with its belly in the air; foolishly, it adopts the very posture -which allows the Scolia to make the assault and to reach the point at -which the fatal blow is struck. - -Let us pass on to others. I have just captured an Interrupted Scolia -(Colpa Interrupta, Latr.), exploring the sands, no doubt in quest of -game. It is important to make use of her as soon as may be, before her -ardour has been cooled by the tedium of captivity. I know her prey, the -grub of Anoxia Australis; I know, from my old habits of digging, the -spots beloved by the worm: the sand-dunes heaped by the wind at the -foot of the rosemary-shrubs on the slopes of the neighbouring hills. It -will be hard work finding it, for nothing is rarer than a common thing, -when it is needed in a hurry. I call in the aid of my father, an old -man of ninety, but still straight as a wand. Shouldering a shovel and a -three-pronged luchet, we set out under a sun in which you could cook an -egg. Exerting our feeble powers in turns, we cut a trench in the sand -where I hope to find the Anoxia. My hopes are not disappointed. In the -sweat of my brow—never was truer word spoken—after shifting and sifting -through my fingers at least two cubic yards of sandy soil, I am the -fortunate possessor of two grubs. Had I not wanted them, I should have -dug them up by the handful! However, my lean and costly harvest is -sufficient for the moment. To-morrow, I shall send stronger arms to -continue the digging. - -And now let us repay ourselves for our trouble by witnessing the drama -under glass. Heavy and clumsy in her ways, the Scolia moves slowly -round the arena. At the sight of the game, her attention wakes up. The -fight is heralded by the same preparations as those displayed by the -Two-banded Scolia: the Hymenopteron polishes her wings and taps the -table with the tips of her antennæ. And now, up, lads, and at ’em! The -attack begins. Unfit to move over a flat surface, because of its short, -weak legs; lacking, moreover, the Cetonia’s eccentric means of -locomotion on its back, the big-bellied worm does not dream of running -away: it rolls itself up. The Scolia, with her powerful nippers, grabs -its skin, now at once place, now at another. Buckled into an arch whose -two ends almost meet, she strives to thrust the tip of her belly into -the narrow opening of the volute formed by the grub. The fight is -conducted quite calmly, without hard blows and with varying fortunes. -It represents the obstinate attempt of a live split ring trying to slip -one of its ends into another live split ring, which displays an equal -obstinacy in remaining closed. The Scolia holds the game in subjection -with her legs and mandibles; she makes her attempt first on one side -and then on the other, without succeeding in unrolling the torus, which -becomes the more contracted the more it feels itself in danger. The -actual circumstances make the operation difficult: the prey slips and -rolls over the table, when the insect goes for it too briskly; points -of support are wanting and the sting cannot reach the desired spot; for -over an hour, one vain attempt follows upon the other, divided by -spells of rest, during which the two adversaries look like two narrow -rings wound one inside the other. - -What ought the sturdy Cetonia grub to do in order to defy the -Two-banded Scolia, who is nothing like so strong as her victim? Imitate -the Anoxia, of course, and remain rolled up like a hedgehog until the -enemy retreats. It tries to flee, unrolls itself and thus causes its -own undoing. The other does not budge from its defensive posture and -resists successfully. Is this due to acquired prudence? No, but to the -impossibility of acting otherwise on the polished surface of a table. -Heavy, obese, weak-legged, bent into a hook after the manner of the -common white maggot, the Anoxia grub is unable to shift its position on -a smooth surface; it flounders painfully, lying on its side. What it -wants is the shifting soil wherein, using its mandibles as a spade, it -digs and buries itself. - -Let us try if sand will shorten the battle, of which the end does not -yet seem in sight after an hour’s waiting. I lightly sprinkle the -arena. The attack is resumed more fiercely than ever. The grub, feeling -the sand, its natural dwelling-place, now also tries to slip away, the -reckless one! What did I tell you? Its torus does not represent -acquired prudence, but the necessity of the moment. The harsh -experience of past misfortunes has not yet taught it the precious -advantage which it would derive from its volute kept closed as long as -danger lasts. Besides, not all are equally cautious on the firm support -of my table. The biggest even seem ignorant of what they understood so -well in their youth: the art of self-defence by rolling one’s self in a -ball. - -I take up my story again with a fine-sized quarry, less liable to slip -under the Scolia’s pushes. The grub, when assailed, does not curl up, -does not contract into a ring, like its predecessor, which was younger -and but half its size. It tosses about clumsily, lying on its side, -half-opened. Its only attempt at defence is to wriggle; it opens, -closes and reopens its big mandibular hooks. The Scolia grabs it at -random, winds her rough, hairy legs around it and, for nearly fifteen -minutes, strives her hardest atop of the rich dainty. - -At last, after a series of not very riotous affrays, the favourable -position is gained, the propitious moment arrives and the sting is -planted in the grub’s thorax, at a central spot, under the neck and -level with the fore-legs. The effect is instantaneous: total inertia, -save in the appendages of the head, the antennæ and mouth-pieces. I -find the same results, the same prick at a precise, invariable spot, -among my different operators, captured from time to time with a -successful stroke of the net. - -Let us say, in conclusion, that the attack delivered by the Interrupted -Scolia is much less fiery than that of her two-banded sister. This -rough, sand-digging Hymenopteron has a clumsy gait and stiff, almost -automatic movements. She does not easily repeat her dagger-thrust. Most -of those with whom I experimented refused a second victim on the day -after their exploits and on the following day. Half-asleep, they grew -excited only when stimulated through my teasing them with a straw. Nor -does the Two-banded Scolia, that more agile, more enthusiastic -huntress, invariably unsheath when invited so to do. All those Nimrods -are liable to moments of inaction which the presence of a new prey will -not succeed in disturbing. - -The Scoliæ have taught me no more than I have said, for lack of -subjects belonging to other species. No matter: the results obtained -constitute, to my mind, no small triumph. After seeing the Scoliæ at -work, I said to myself, guided merely by the anatomical structure of -the victims, that the grubs of Cetonia, of Anoxia, of Oryctes must be -paralyzed with a single prick of the sting; I even specified the point -at which the dagger had to strike, a central point in the immediate -neighbourhood of the fore-legs. Of the three kinds of sacrificers, two -allowed me to be present at their surgical operation, which the third, -I am certain, will not contradict. In both cases, a single blow of the -lancet; in both cases, an inoculation with the poison at the place -settled in advance. No calculator in an observatory could show greater -accuracy in foretelling the position of his planet. An idea may be -considered proved when it attains this mathematical anticipation of the -future, this positive knowledge of the unknown. When will the extollers -of chance achieve a like success? Order calls for order; and chance has -no rule. - - - - - - - - - - -THE RINGED CALICURGUS - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE RINGED CALICURGUS - - -The non-cuirassed victims, pervious to the sting over almost the whole -of their body, such as Common Caterpillars and “Land-surveying” -Caterpillars, Cetonia and Anoxia grubs, whose sole means of defence, -apart from their mandibles, consists in rollings and contortions, -summoned another prey to my glass bell: the Spider, almost as -ill-protected, but armed with formidable poison-fangs. How, more -particularly, does the Ringed Calicurgus, or Pompilus, set to work to -deal with the black-bellied Tarantula, the terrible Lycosa Narbonensis, -who slays mole and sparrow with a bite and imperils the life of man? -How does the bold Pompilus overcome an adversary stronger than herself, -better-endowed in virulence of poison and capable of making a meal of -her assailant? Among the hunting insects, none faces such -disproportionate contests, in which appearances seem to point to the -aggressor as the prey and to the prey as the aggressor. - -The problem deserved patient study. True, judging by the Spider’s -structure, I anticipated a single stab in the centre of the thorax; but -this did not explain the victory of the Hymenopteron, emerging safe and -sound from her encounter with a quarry of that description. The matter -must be looked into. The chief difficulty is the scarcity of the -Calicurgus. To obtain the Tarantula is easy enough: the part of the -neighbouring upland as yet untilled by the vine-planters supplies me -with as many as I need. To capture the Calicurgus is a different story. -I count upon her so little that I consider a special search quite -useless. To look for one would, perhaps, be the very way not to find -one. Let us leave it to chance to decide whether I shall have one or -not. - -I have one. I caught her unexpectedly on the flowers. The next day, I -lay in a stock of half-a-dozen Tarantulas. Perhaps I shall be able to -use them one after the other, in repeated duels. On my return from my -expedition in search of Lycosæ, chance smiles upon me again and -gratifies my desires to the full. A second Calicurgus presents herself -before my net: she is dragging her heavy, paralyzed Arachnid by the -leg, in the dust of the high-road. I set great store by my find: there -is an urgency about laying the egg; and I believe that the mother will -accept an exchange without much hesitation. - -So behold my two captives, each under a glass bell with her Tarantula. -I am all eyes. What a drama I may expect, in a moment! I wait, -anxiously.... But ... but ... what is this? Which of the two is the -attacker? Which of the two the attacked? The characters seem inverted. -The Calicurgus, unfit for climbing up the smooth walls of the bell, -strides along the outer circumference of the arena. With proud, swift -gait and quivering wings and antennæ, she comes and goes. She soon sets -eyes upon the Lycosa, marches up to her without the least sign of fear, -turns around her and seems about to seize one of her legs. But, at that -moment, the Tarantula rises almost perpendicularly, using her four -hind-legs to stand upon and her four front-legs erect, outspread, ready -to thrust and parry. The poison-fangs yawn wide: a drop of venom hangs -from their point. The mere sight of them makes my flesh creep. In this -terrible attitude, presenting her powerful chest and the black velvet -of her belly to her enemy, the Arachnid overawes the Pompilus, who -abruptly turns to the right-about and retreats. The Lycosa then closes -her case of poisoned daggers and returns to her natural position, -standing on her eight legs; but, at the least aggressive movement on -the part of the Hymenopteron, she resumes her threatening posture. - -Nay, she does better: suddenly, she leaps and flings herself upon the -Calicurgus, grapples with her nimbly and gnaws her with her fangs. The -other, without replying with her sting, releases herself and emerges -unscathed from the fierce encounter. Time after time, I witness the -attack; and nothing serious ever happens to the Hymenopteron, who -quickly extricates herself and seems to have felt nothing. Her -manœuvres are resumed as boldly and swiftly as at the start. - -Does this mean that the creature escaping from the terrible fangs is -invulnerable? Obviously not. A real bite would be fatal to her. Big, -tough Acridians succumb: why should not she, with her delicate -organization, succumb as well? The Arachnid’s daggers, therefore, make -vain feints; their points do not enter the antagonist’s flesh. If the -blows were real, I should see bleeding wounds, I should see the fangs -closed for a moment upon the point seized, whereas all my watchfulness -fails to perceive anything of the sort. Are the fangs powerless, then, -to pierce the Calicurgus’ envelope? Not that either. I have seen them -go through the corselet of the Acridians, which possesses much greater -resisting power and which cracks like a broken breastplate. Once more, -whence comes this strange immunity of the Calicurgus between the legs -and under the daggers of the Tarantula? I do not know. At a time when -she is in mortal danger in front of her enemy, the Lycosa threatens her -with her fangs and cannot bring herself to bite, prevented by a -reluctance which I do not undertake to explain. - -Seeing that I am obtaining nothing but alarms and scrimmages devoid of -seriousness, I decide to alter the conditions of the prize-ring and to -make it resemble more closely the natural state. My work-table is but a -poor substitute for the soil; besides, the Arachnid has not her -stronghold, her burrow, which maybe plays a part of some importance in -both attack and defence. A stump of reed is stuck perpendicularly in a -large pan filled with earth. This shall represent the Lycosa’s pit. In -the middle, I plant a few heads of echinops, made appetizing with -honey, as a refectory for the Pompilus; a pair of Crickets, renewed as -soon as consumed, shall keep up the strength of the Tarantula. This -comfortable abode, exposed to the sun, receives the two captives under -a woven-wire cover, well-ventilated and suitable for a long stay. - -My artifices lead to no result; the session ends without business done. -A day passes, two days, three days; and still nothing. The Calicurgus -is unremitting in her attentions to the honeyed thistle-heads; the -Tarantula calmly nibbles away at her Cricket. If the other comes within -reach of her, she quickly draws herself up and, with a gesture, orders -her to be off. The artificial burrow, the reed-stump, fulfils its -purpose nicely. Lycosa and Calicurgus take refuge in it by turns, but -without quarrelling. And that is all. The drama of which the prologue -promised so well now seems to me indefinitely postponed. - -A last resource remains; and I base great hopes upon it. This is to -move my Calicurgi to the very spot of their investigations and to -install them at the door of the Arachnid’s house, above the natural -burrow. I take the field with an apparatus which I am dragging for the -first time into the open, consisting of a glass cover, another of woven -wire, together with the different instruments necessary to handle and -shift my irascible and dangerous subjects. My search for burrows among -the pebbles and the tufts of thyme and lavender soon meets with -success. - -Here is a splendid one. The insertion of a straw informs me that it is -inhabited by a Tarantula of a size suited to my plans. I sweep and -flatten down the neighbourhood of the orifice to receive the wire bell, -under which I place a Pompilus. This is a fitting moment to light one’s -pipe and wait, stretched on the pebbles.... A further disappointment! -Half an hour passes and the Hymenopteron confines herself to turning -round the wire, as she did in my study. Not a sign of cupidity on her -part in the presence of that burrow at the bottom of which I see the -Tarantula’s diamond eyes gleaming. - -The wire-work enclosure is replaced by one of glass, the walls of which -cannot be scaled, thus obliging the insect to remain on the ground and -at last to take notice of the pit, which it seems to ignore. This time, -we are more successful. After a few strolls round the circuit, the -Calicurgus casts eyes upon the cavity that yawns beneath her feet. She -goes down it. This boldness staggers me. I should never have dared -expect as much as that. To fling yourself suddenly upon the Tarantula -when she is outside her domain is all very well; but to plunge into the -lair when the terrible animal is waiting for you there with her double -poisoned dagger! What will come of this temerity? A flutter of wings -rises from the depths. Run to earth in her private apartments, the -Lycosa is doubtless struggling with the intruder. That noise of wings -is the song of victory of the Calicurgus, unless, indeed, it be her -death-song. The murderer may well be the murdered. Which of the two -will emerge from below alive? - -It is the Lycosa, who hurriedly scampers out and takes up her stand at -the entrance to the burrow in her position of defence, with her fangs -open and her four front-legs outstretched. Is the other stabbed? Not at -all, for she comes out forthwith, not without receiving a cuff, as she -passes, from the Arachnid, who at once returns to her den. Dislodged -from the basement a second and a third time, the Tarantula always comes -up again without a wound, always waits for the invader on the -door-sill, administers punishment and pops in again. In vain I -alternate my two Pompili and change the burrow: I do not succeed in -seeing anything more. Certain conditions, which my stratagems fail to -realize, are lacking to the fulfilment of the drama. - -Discouraged by the repetition of my fruitless experiments, I throw up -the game, having gained, however, a fact of some value: the Calicurgus -descends, without the least fear, into the Tarantula’s den and turns -her out. I imagine that things happen in the same way outside my bells. -Evicted from her home, the Arachnid is more timorous and lends herself -better to the attack. Besides, in the constraint of a narrow burrow, -the operator would not be able to wield her lancet with the precision -which her plans demand. The bold incursion shows us once again, more -clearly than the hand-to-hand encounters on my table, the Lycosa’s -reluctance to drive her fangs into her adversary. When the two are face -to face at the bottom of the lair, that surely would be the time of -times to have a word with the enemy. The Tarantula is at home; every -nook and corner of the bastion is familiar to her. The intruder is -constrained in her movements; she does not know her way about. Quick, a -bite, my poor Lycosa, and your persecutor’s done for! You refrain, I -know not why; and your reluctance is the rash one’s salvation. The -silly sheep does not reply to the butcher’s knife with a butt from his -horned forehead. Can you be the sheep of the Calicurgus? - -My two subjects are once more installed in my study, under their wire -domes, with the bed of sand, the reed-stump burrow and renewed honey. -They here find their first Lycosæ, feeding on crickets. The -cohabitation extends over three weeks, without other incidents than -scrimmages and threatenings, which become rarer from day to day. No -serious hostility on either side. At last, the Calicurgi die: their day -is past. A pitiful ending to a spirited start. - -Shall I abandon the problem? Oh, no! It is not the first that has been -unable to deter me from an eagerly-cherished plan. Fortune favours the -persevering. She proves this by offering me, in September, a fortnight -after the death of my Tarantula-hunters, a different Calicurgus, -captured for the first time. It is Calicurgus Curra, clad in the same -showy style as her predecessors and almost of the same size. - -I know nothing about the new-comer: I wonder what she would like. A -spider, that is certain: but which? A huntress of her build calls for -big game: perhaps the Silky Epeira, perhaps the Banded Epeira, the two -fattest Arachnids in the country, next to the Tarantula. The first -hangs her great vertical web, in which the Crickets are caught, from -one brake of brushwood to the next. I shall find her in the copses on -the adjacent hills. The other stretches hers across the ditches and -little water-courses frequented by the Dragon-flies. I shall find her -near the Aygues, on the bank of the irrigation-canals fed by that -torrent. Two excursions procure me the two Epeiræ. Next day, I offer -them together to my captive, who shall choose according to her tastes. - -The choice is soon made: Epeira Fasciata obtains the preference. But -she does not yield without protest. At the Hymenopteron’s approach, she -draws herself up and assumes a defensive attitude copied from that of -the Lycosa. The Calicurgus does not mind the threats: under her -harlequin attire, she is quick to strike and swift of foot. A few brisk -cuffs are exchanged and the Epeira lies overturned on her back. The -Calicurgus is on top of her, belly to belly, head to head; with her -legs, she overpowers the Arachnid’s legs; with her mandibles, she grips -the cephalothorax. She curves her abdomen vigorously, bringing it -underneath; she draws her sting and.... - -One moment, reader, if you please. Where is the sting going to -penetrate? According to what we have learnt from the other paralyzers, -it will be in the chest, to destroy the movement of the legs. You think -so? I believed it too. Well, without wasting time in apologizing for -our very excusable common error, let us confess that the animal is -cleverer than we are. It knows how to make certain of success by means -of a preparatory trick which you and I had not thought of. Oh, what a -school is that of the animals! Is it not a fact that, before striking -the adversary, it is wise to take steps not to be hit yourself? -Calicurgus Scurra does not disregard this counsel of prudence. The -Epeira carries under her throat two sharp daggers, with a drop of -poison at the tip; the Calicurgus is lost if the Arachnid bite her. -Nevertheless, her anæsthetizing operation requires perfect security of -the lancet. What is to be done in this peril, which would perplex the -most confident surgeon? We must first disarm the patient and operate -upon him later. - -Behold, the Calicurgus’ sting, aimed from back to front, enters the -Epeira’s mouth, with minute precautions and emphatic persistency. Upon -the instant, the poison-fangs close limply and the formidable prey is -rendered harmless. The Hymenopteron’s abdomen then extends its arch and -drives in the needle behind the fourth pair of legs, on the median -line, almost at the juncture of the belly. The skin is thinner and more -easily penetrable at this spot than elsewhere. The rest of the chest is -covered with a firm breast-plate, which the sting would perhaps not -succeed in perforating. The nerve-centres, the seat of the movement of -the legs, are situated a little higher than the wounded spot; but the -aiming of the weapon from back to front enables it to reach them. This -last blow produces paralysis of the eight legs together. - -To enlarge upon the proceeding would spoil the eloquence of this -manœuvre. First, for the protection of the operator, a stab in the -mouth, that fearsomely armed point, to be dreaded above all others; -next, for the protection of the grub, a second stab in the -nerve-centres of the thorax, to destroy all movement. I suspected -indeed that the sacrificers of powerful Arachnids were endowed with -special talents; but I was far from expecting their daring logic, which -disarms before it paralyzes. This must also be the scheme followed by -the Tarantula-huntress, who refused to disclose her secret under my -bells. I know her method now, divulged as it is by a colleague. She -turns the horrible Lycosa on her back, deadens her daggers by stinging -her in the mouth and then, with a single prick of the needle, contrives -the paralysis of the legs at her ease. - -I examine the Epeira immediately after the operation and the Tarantula -when the Calicurgus drags her by one leg to her burrow, at the foot of -a wall. For a little while longer, a minute at most, the Epeira -convulsively moves her legs. As long as these dying quivers last, the -Pompilus does not let go of her prey. She seems to be watching the -progress of the paralysis. With the tip of her mandibles, she -repeatedly explores the mouth of the Arachnid, as though to make sure -that the poison-fangs are really harmless. Next, all becomes quiet; and -the Calicurgus makes ready to drag her prey elsewhither. It is then -that I take possession of it. - -What strikes me first of all is the absolute inertness of the fangs, -which I tickle with a straw without succeeding in rousing them from -their torpor. The feelers, on the contrary, the feelers, their -immediate neighbours, move backwards and forwards the moment I touch -them. I put the Epeira away safely in a flask and subject her to a -fresh examination a week later. Irritability has returned in part. -Under the stimulus of the straw, I see the limbs move a little, -especially the lower joints, legs and tarsi. The feelers are even more -irritable and mobile. These various movements, however, are devoid of -vigour or coordination; and the Spider cannot use them to turn herself -and still less to shift her position. As for the poison-fangs, I -stimulate them in vain; I do not succeed in inducing them to open, or -even to move. They are, therefore, profoundly paralyzed and in a -special manner. I thought as much, at the beginning, from the peculiar -persistency displayed by the dart in stinging the mouth. - -At the end of September, almost a month after the operation, the Epeira -is in the same condition, neither dead nor alive: the feelers still -quiver at the touch of the straw; and nothing else stirs. Finally, -after six or seven weeks of lethargy, real death supervenes, together -with its companion, corruption. - -The Tarantula of the Ringed Calicurgus, whom I steal from her owner -while she is dragging her along, offers the same peculiarities for my -inspection. The poison-fangs absolutely refuse to be irritated by the -tickling of the straw, a fresh proof added to that of analogy to show -that the Lycosa, like the Epeira, has been stung in the mouth. The -feelers, on the other hand, are and for weeks remain exceedingly -irritable and mobile. I insist upon this point, the interest of which -will soon become apparent. - -It was not possible for me to obtain a second attack from my Calicurgus -Scurra: the tedium of captivity injured the exercise of her talents. -Besides, the Epeira had occasionally something to say to this refusal: -a certain stratagem of war twice employed before my eyes could easily -rout the aggressor. Let me describe the thing, if only to raise a -little in our esteem those silly Arachnids, who, provided with weapons -of perfection, dare not use them against their feebler, but pluckier -assailant. - -The Epeira occupies the wall of the woven-wire enclosure, with her -eight legs sprawling over the trellis-work; the Calicurgus moves about -under the top of the dome. Panic-stricken at the sight of the enemy, -the spider drops to the ground, with her belly in the air and her legs -bunched up. The other goes to her, takes hold of her, examines her and -places herself in a position to sting her in the mouth. But she does -not unsheathe her dart. I see her leaning attentively over the -poison-fangs, as though to enquire into the nature of the terrible -machinery; and then she moves away. The spider remains motionless, so -much so that I believe her dead, paralyzed without my knowing it, at a -moment when I was not looking. I take her out of the volery to examine -her at my ease. But no sooner is she laid upon the table than she comes -to life and promptly scurries away. The trickster was shamming for dead -under the Calicurgus’ dagger and so artfully that I was taken in by -her. She hoodwinked one cleverer than myself, the Calicurgus, who -inspected her very closely and did not consider a dead body worthy of -her steel. Perhaps the simpleton already noticed a “high” smell, like -the bear in the fable. - -This trick, if trick there be, appears to me to turn most often to the -disadvantage of the Arachnid: Tarantula, Epeira or another, as the case -may be. The Calicurgus, who has just thrown her on her back, after a -brisk wrestling-match, knows well enough that the insect on the ground -is not dead. The Spider, thinking to protect herself, shams the -lifelessness of a corpse; the assailant takes advantage of this to -strike her most dangerous blow, the stab in the mouth. If the -poison-tipped fangs were to open then, to snap, to bite in their -despair, the Calicurgus would never dare expose the tip of her stomach -to their mortal sting. The pretence of death is just what causes the -success of the huntress in her risky operation. We are told, O -ingenuous Epeiræ, that the struggle for life counselled you to adopt -that inert attitude in your own defence. Well, the struggle for life -has shown herself a very bad counsellor. You would do better to believe -in common sense and learn, by degrees, at your cost, that a quick -parry-and-thrust, especially when your resources permit of it, is still -the best way of striking awe into the enemy. - - - - - - - - - - -THE OLD WEEVILS - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE OLD WEEVILS - - -In winter, when the insect enjoys an enforced rest, the study of -numismatics procures me some delightful moments. I love to interrogate -its metal disks, the records of the petty things which men call -history. In this soil of Provence, where the Greek planted the -olive-tree and the Roman planted the law, the peasant finds coins, -scattered more or less everywhere, when he turns his sod. He brings -them to me and consults me as to their pecuniary value, never as to -their meaning. - -What matters to him the inscription on his treasure-trove! Men suffered -of yore, they suffer to-day, they will suffer in the future: to him, -all history is summed up in that! The rest is sheer futility, a pastime -of the idle. - -I do not possess this lofty philosophy of indifference to things of the -past. I scratch the piece of money with my finger-nail, I carefully -strip it of its earthy rind, I examine it with the magnifying-glass, I -try to decipher its legend. And my satisfaction is no small one when -the little round bronze or silver disk has spoken. For then I have read -a page of humanity, not in books, which are witnesses open to -suspicion, but in records which are, in a manner, living and which were -contemporary with the persons and the facts. - -This bit of silver, flattened by the blow of the punch, talks to me of -the Vocontii: [31] “VOOC ... VOCVNT,” says the inscription. It comes -from the little neighbouring town of Vaison, where Pliny the Naturalist -sometimes went to spend a holiday. Here, perhaps, at the table of his -host, the celebrated compiler, he learnt to appreciate the beccafico, -famous among the epicures of Rome and still renowned to-day, under the -name of grasset, among our Provençal gastronomers. It is a shame that -my bit of silver says nothing of these events, more memorable than a -battle. - -It shows, on one side, a head and, on the other, a galloping horse, all -barbarously inaccurate. A child trying its hand for the first time with -the point of a pebble on the fresh mortar of the walls would produce no -more shapeless design. Nay, of a surety, those gallant Allobroges were -no artists. - -How greatly superior to them were the foreigners from Phocæa! Here is a -drachma of the Massalietes: [32] ΜΑΣΣΑΛΙΗΤΩΝ. On the obverse, a head of -Diana of Ephesus, chub-faced, full-cheeked, thick-lipped. A receding -forehead, surmounted by a diadem; an abundant head of hair, streaming -down the neck in a cascade of curls; heavy ear-drops, a necklace of -pearls, a bow slung over the shoulder. Thus was the idol decked by the -hands of the pious maidens of Syria. To tell the truth, it is not -beautiful. It is sumptuous, if you will, and preferable, after all, to -the ass’s ears which the beauties of our days wear perched upon their -heads. What a singular freak is fashion, so fruitful in the means of -uglification! Business knows nothing of beauty, says this divinity of -the traders; it prefers the profitable, embellished with luxury. Thus -speaks the drachma. - -On the reverse, a lion clawing the earth and roaring wide-mouthed. Not -of to-day alone is the savagery that symbolizes power under the form of -some formidable brute, as though evil were the supreme expression of -strength. The eagle, the lion and other bandits often figure on the -reverse of coins. But the reality is not sufficient; the imagination -invents monstrosities: the centaur, the dragon, the hippogriff, the -unicorn, the double-headed eagle. Are the inventors of these emblems -really superior to the redskin who celebrates the prowess of his -scalping-knife with a bear’s paw, an eagle’s wing or a jaguar’s tooth -stuck into his scalp-lock? We may safely doubt it. - -How preferable to these heraldic horrors is the reverse of our own -silver coinage brought into circulation of late years! It shows us a -sower who, with a nimble hand, at sunrise, fills the furrow with the -good seed of thought. It is very simple and it is great; it makes us -think. - -The Marseilles drachma has for its sole merit its magnificent relief. -The artist who made the dies was a master of the graver’s tool; but he -lacked the breath of inspiration. The chub-faced Diana is a rakes’ -wench and no better. - -Here is the NAMASAT of the Volscæ, which became the colony of Nîmes. -Side by side, profiles of Augustus and his minister Agrippa. The -former, with his hard brow, his flat skull, his grasping, broken nose, -inspires me with but little confidence, notwithstanding what gentle -Virgil wrote of him: - - - Deus nobis haec otia fecit. - - -It is success that makes gods. Had he not succeeded in his criminal -projects, Augustus the divine would have remained Octavius the -scoundrel. - -His minister pleases me better. He was a great shifter of stones, who, -with his building operations, his aqueducts, his roads, came to -civilize the rustic Volscæ a little. Not far from my village, a -splendid road crosses the plain in a straight line, starting from the -banks of the Aygues, and climbs up yonder, tedious in its monotonous -length, to cross the Sérignan hills, under the protection of a powerful -oppidum, which, much later, became the old castle, the Castelas. It is -a section of Agrippa’s Road, which joined Marseilles and Vienne. The -majestic ribbon, twenty centuries old, is still frequented. We no -longer see the little brown foot-soldier of the Roman legions upon it; -in his stead, we see the peasant going to market at Orange, with his -flock of sheep or his drove of unruly porkers. And I prefer the latter. - -Let us turn over the green-crusted penny. “COL. NEM.,” [33] colony of -Nîmes, the reverse tells us. The inscription is accompanied by a -crocodile chained to a palm-tree from which hang crowns. It is an -emblem of Egypt, conquered by the veterans who founded the colony. The -beast of the Nile gnashes its teeth at the foot of the familiar tree. -It speaks to us of Antony, the rip; it tells us of Cleopatra, whose -nose, had it been an inch shorter, would have changed the face of the -world. Thanks to the memories which it awakens, the scaly-rumped -reptile becomes a superb historical lesson. - -In this way, the great lessons of the numismatical science of metals -could follow one another for many a day and be constantly varied -without leaving my near neighbourhood. But there is another science of -numismatics, far superior and less costly, which, with its medals, the -fossils, tells us the history of life. I speak of the numismatics of -stones. - -My very window-ledge, the confidant of bygone ages, talks to me of a -vanished world. It is, literally speaking, an ossuary, each particle of -which retains the imprint of past lives. That block of stone has lived. -Spines of sea-urchins, teeth and vertebræ of fish, broken pieces of -shells, shivers of madrepores form a pulp of dead existences. Examined -ashlar by ashlar, my house would resolve itself into a reliquary, a -rag-fair of things that were alive in the days of old. - -The rocky layer from which building-materials are derived in these -parts covers, with its mighty shell, the greater portion of the -neighbouring upland. Here the quarry-man has dug for none knows how -many centuries, since the time when Agrippa hewed cyclopean flags to -form the stages and façade of the Orange theatre. And here, daily, the -pick-axe uncovers curious fossils. The most remarkable of these are -teeth, wonderfully polished in the heart of their rough veinstone, -bright with enamel as though still in a fresh state. Some of them are -most formidable, triangular, finely jagged at the edges, almost as -large as one’s hand. What an insatiable abyss, a jaw armed with such a -set of teeth in manifold rows, placed stepwise almost to the back of -the gullet; what mouthfuls, snapped up and lacerated by those serrate -shears! You are seized with a shiver merely at the imaginary -reconstruction of that awful implement of destruction! - -The monster thus equipped as a prince of death belonged to the order of -Squalidæ. Paleontology calls him Carcharodon Megalodon. The shark of -to-day, the terror of the seas, gives an approximate idea of him, in so -far as the dwarf can give an idea of the giant. - -Other Squali abound in the same stone, all fierce gullets. It contains -Oxyrhinæ (Oxyrhina Xiphodon, Agass.), with teeth shaped like pointed -cleavers; Hemipristes (Hemipristis Serra, Agass.), whose jaws are -furnished with curved and toothed Malay creeses; Lamiæ (Lamia -Denticulata, Agass.), whose mouths bristle with flexuous, steeled -daggers, flattened on one side, convex on the other; Notidani -(Notidanus Primigenius, Agass.), whose sunk teeth are crowned with -radiate indentations. - -This dental arsenal, the eloquent witness of the old butcheries, can -hold its own with the Crocodile of Nîmes, the Diana of Marseilles, the -Horse of Vaison. With its panoply of carnage, it tells me how -extermination came at all times to lop off the surplus of life; it -says: - -“On the very spot where you stand meditating upon a shiver of stone, an -arm of the sea once stretched, filled with truculent devourers and -peaceable victims. A long gulf occupied the future site of the Rhône -Valley. Its billows broke at no great distance from your dwelling.” - -Here, in fact, are the cliffs of the bank, in such a state of -preservation that, on concentrating my thoughts, I seem to hear the -thunder of the waves. Sea-urchins, Lithodomi, Petricolæ, Pholaidids -have left their signatures upon the rock: hemispherical recesses large -enough to contain one’s fist, round cells, cabins with a narrow -conduit-pipe through which the recluse received the incoming water, -constantly renewed and laden with nourishment. Sometimes, the erstwhile -occupant is there, mineralized, intact to the tiniest details of his -striæ and scales, a frail ornament; more often, he has disappeared, -dissolved, and his house has filled with a fine sea mud, hardened into -a chalky kernel. - -In this quiet inlet, some eddy has collected and drowned at the bottom -of the mire, now turned into marl, enormous heaps of shells, of every -shape and size. It is a molluscs’ burying-ground, with hills for -tumuli. I dig up oysters a cubit long and weighing five or six pounds -apiece. One could shovel up, in the immense pile, Scallops, Cones, -Cytheridæ, Mactridæ, Murices, Turritellidæ, Mitridæ and others too -numerous, too innumerable to mention. You stand stupefied before the -vital ardour of the days of old, which was able to supply such a pile -of relics in a mere nook of earth. - -The necropolis of shells tells us, besides, that time, that patient -renewer of the order of things, has mown down not only the individual, -a precarious being, but also the species. Nowadays, the neighbouring -sea, the Mediterranean, has almost nothing identical with the -population of the vanished gulf. To find a few features of similarity -between the present and the past, we should have to seek them in the -tropical seas. The climate, therefore, has become colder; the sun is -slowly becoming extinguished; the species are dying out. Thus speak the -numismatics of the stones on my window-ledge. - -Without leaving my field of observation, so modest, so limited and yet -so rich, let us once more consult the stone and, this time, on the -subject of the insect. The country round Apt abounds in a strange rock -that breaks off in thin plates, similar to sheets of whitish cardboard. -It burns with a sooty flame and a bituminous smell; and it was -deposited at the bottom of great lakes haunted by crocodiles and giant -tortoises. Those lakes no human eye has ever seen. Their basins have -been replaced by the ridges of the hills; their muds, peacefully -deposited in thin courses, have become mighty banks of rock. - -Let us break off a slab and subdivide it into sheets with the point of -a knife, a work as easy as separating the superposed layers of a piece -of paste- or mill-board. In so doing, we are examining a volume taken -from the library of the mountains, we are turning the pages of a -magnificently illustrated book. It is a manuscript of nature, far -superior to the Egyptian papyrus. On almost every page are diagrams; -nay, better: realities converted into pictures. - -On this page are fish, grouped at random. One might take them for a -dish fried in oil. Back-bones, fins, vertebral links, bones of the -head, crystal of the eye turned to a black globule, everything is -there, in its natural arrangement. One thing alone is absent: the -flesh. No matter: our dish of gudgeons looks so good that we feel an -inclination to scratch off a bit with our finger and taste this -supramillenary preserve. Let us indulge our fancy and put between our -teeth a morsel of this mineral fry seasoned with petroleum. - -There is no inscription to the picture. Reflection makes good the -deficiency. It says to us: - -“These fishes lived here, in large numbers, in peaceful waters. -Suddenly, swells came and asphyxiated them in their mud-thickened -waves. Buried forthwith in the mire and thus rescued from the agents of -destruction, they have passed through time, will pass through it -indefinitely, under the cover of their winding-sheet.” - -The same swells brought from the adjacent rain-swept shores a host of -refuse, both vegetable and animal, so much so that the lacustrian -deposit talks to us also of things on land. It is a general record of -the life of the time. - -Let us turn a page of our slab, or rather our album. Here are winged -seeds, leaves drawn in brown prints. The stone herbal vies in botanical -accuracy with a normal herbal. It repeats what the shells had already -told us: the world is changing, the sun is losing its strength. The -vegetation of modern Provence is not what it was in former days; it no -longer includes palm-trees, camphor-yielding laurels, tufted araucarias -and many other trees and shrubs whose equivalents belong to the torrid -regions. - -Continue to turn the pages. We now come to the insects. The most -frequent are the Diptera, of middling size, often very humble flies and -gnats. The teeth of the great Squali astonished us by their soft polish -amid the roughness of their chalky veinstone. What shall we say of -these frail midges preserved intact in their marly shrine? The frail -creature, which our fingers could not grasp without crushing it, lies -undeformed beneath the weight of the mountains! - -The six slender legs, which the least thing is enough to disjoint, here -lie spread upon the stone, correct in shape and arrangement, in the -attitude of the insect at rest. There is nothing lacking, not even the -tiny double claws of the extremities. Here are the two wings, unfurled. -The fine net-work of their nervures can be studied under the lens as -clearly as in the Dipteron of the collections, stuck upon its pin. The -antennary tufts have lost none of their subtle elegance; the belly -gives us the number of the rings, edged with a row of atoms that were -cilia. - -The carcase of a mastodont, defying time in its sandy bed, already -astonishes us: a gnat of exquisite delicacy, preserved intact in the -thickness of the rock, staggers our imagination. - -Certainly, the Mosquito, carried by the rising swells, did not come -from far away. Before his arrival, the hurly-burly of a thread of water -must have reduced him to that annihilation to which he was so near. He -lived on the shores of the lake. Killed by the joys of a morning—the -old age of gnats—he fell from the top of his reed, was forthwith -drowned and disappeared in the muddy catacombs. - -Who are those others, those dumpy ones, with hard, convex elytra, the -most numerous next to the Diptera? Their small heads, prolonged into a -snout, tell us plainly. They are proboscidian Coleoptera, Rhynchophora, -or, in less hard terms, Weevils. There are small ones, middling ones, -large ones, similar in dimensions to their counterparts of to-day. - -Their attitudes on the chalky slab are not as correct as those of the -Mosquito. The legs are entangled anyhow; the beak, the rostrum is at -one time hidden under the chest, at another projects forward. Some show -it in profile; others—more frequent these—stretch it to one side, as -the result of a twist in the neck. - -These dislocated, contorted insects did not receive the swift and -peaceful burial of the Dipteron. Though sundry of them may have lived -on the plants on the banks, the others, the majority, come from the -surrounding neighbourhood, brought by the rains, which warped their -joints in crossing such obstacles as branches and stones. A stout -armour has kept the body unscathed, but the delicate articulations of -the members have given way to some extent; and the miry winding-sheet -received the drowned Beetles as the disorder of the passage left them. - -These strangers, come perhaps from afar, supply us with precious -information. They tell us that, whereas the banks of the lake had the -Mosquito as the chief representative of the insect class, the woods had -the Weevil. - -Outside the snout-carrying family, the sheets of my Apt rock show me -hardly anything more, especially in the order of the Coleoptera. Where -are the other terrestrial groups, the Carabus, the Dung-beetle, the -Capricorn, which the wash of the rains, indifferent as to its harvests, -would have brought to the lake even as it did the Weevil? There is not -the least vestige of those tribes, so prosperous to-day. - -Where are the Hydrophilus, the Gyrinus, the Dytiscus, all inhabitants -of the water? These lacustrians had a great chance of coming down to us -mummified between two sheets of marl. If there were any in those days, -they lived in the lake, whose muds would have preserved these horn-clad -insects even more perfectly than the little fishes and especially than -the Dipteron. Well, of those aquatic Coleoptera there is no trace -either. - -Where were they, where were those missing from the geological -reliquary? Where were they of the thickets, of the green-sward, of the -worm-eaten trunks: Capricorns, borers of wood; Sacred Beetles, workers -in dung; Carabi, disembowellers of game? One and all were in the limbo -of the time to come. The present of that period did not possess them: -the future awaited them. The Weevil, therefore, if I may credit the -modest records which I am free to consult, is the oldest of the -Coleoptera. - -Life, at the start, fashioned oddities which would be screaming -discords in the present harmony of things. When it invented the -Saurian, it revelled at first in monsters fifteen and twenty yards -long. It placed horns on their noses and eyes, paved their backs with -fantastic scales, hollowed their necks into spiny wallets, wherein -their heads withdrew as into a hood. It even tried, though not with -great success, to give them wings. After these horrors, the procreating -ardour calmed down and produced the charming green Lizard of our -hedges. - -When it invented the bird, it filled its beak with the pointed teeth of -the reptile and appended a long, feathered tail unto its rump. These -undetermined and revoltingly ugly creatures were the distant prelude to -the Robin Redbreast and the Dove. - -All these primitives are noted for a very small skull, an idiot’s -brain. The brute of antiquity is, first and foremost, an atrocious -machine for snapping, with a stomach for digesting. The intellect does -not count as yet. That will come later. - -The Weevil, in his fashion, to a certain extent, repeats these -aberrations. See the extravagant appendage to his little head. It is -here a short, thick snout; there a sturdy beak, round or cut -four-square; elsewhere a crazy reed, thin as a hair, long as the body -and longer. At the tip of this egregious instrument, in the terminal -mouthpiece, are the fine shears of the mandibles; on the sides, the -antennæ, with their first joints set in a groove. - -What is the use of this beak, this snout, this caricature of a nose? -Where did the insect find the model? Nowhere. The Weevil is its -inventor and retains the monopoly. Outside his family, no Coleopteron -indulges in these buccal eccentricities. - -Observe, also, the smallness of the head, a bulb that hardly swells -beyond the base of the snout. What can it have inside? A very poor -nervous equipment, the sign of exceedingly limited instincts. Before -seeing them at work, we make small account of these microcephali, in -respect of intelligence; we class them among the obtuse, among -creatures bereft of working capacity. These surmises will not be very -largely upset. - -Though the Curculio be but little glorified by his talents, this is no -reason for scorning him. As we learn from the lacustrian schists, he -was in the van of the insects with the armoured wing-cases; he was long -stages ahead of the workers in incubation within the limits of -possibility. He speaks to us of primitive forms, sometimes so quaint; -he is, in his own little world, what the bird with the toothed jaws and -the Saurian with the horned eyebrows are in a higher world. - -In ever-thriving legions, he has been handed down to us without -changing his characteristics. He is to-day as he was in the old times -of the continents: the prints in the chalky slates proclaim the fact -aloud. Under any such print, I would venture to write the name of the -genus, sometimes even of the species. - -Permanence of instinct must go with permanence of form. By consulting -the modern Curculionid, therefore, we shall obtain a very approximate -chapter upon the biology of his predecessors, at the time when Provence -had great lakes filled with crocodiles and palm-trees on their banks -wherewith to shade them. The history of the present will teach us the -history of the past. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -LEAF-ROLLERS - - -The attainments of the Curculionid mother are, generally speaking, -limited to inserting her eggs at places where the grubs will find -suitable nourishment and occasionally varying the diet with a botanical -judgment of marvellous certainty. She displays little or no industry. -The niceties of the feeding-bottle or the baby-linen do not concern -her. To this rough conception of the duties of maternity, I know but -one exception, the attribute of certain Weevils, who, in order to endow -their young with an alimentary preserve, possess the art of rolling a -leaf, which serves as board and lodging in one. - -Among these manufacturers of vegetable sausages, the most skilful is -the Poplar Weevil (Rhynchites Populi, Lin.), who is modest in -proportions, but resplendent in attire. Her back is clad in gleaming -gold and copper; her back is indigo blue. Would you see her at work, -you need but visit the lower twigs of the common black poplar, at the -edge of the meadows, about the end of May. - -Whereas, up at the top, the fond spring breezes shake the majestic -green distaff and set the leaves quivering on their flattened stalks, -down below, in a zone of calmer air, the tender shoots of the year -remain quiescent. Here, especially, far from the wind-tossed heights -opposed to labour, the Rhynchites works. And, as the workshop is just -at a man’s height, nothing is more easy than to observe the roller’s -actions. - -Easy, yes, but distressing, under a blazing sun, if one would follow -the insect in all the detail of its methods and the progress of its -work. Moreover, this involves a great deal of walking, which takes up -time; and, again, it is not favourable to precise observations, which -require an indefinite amount of leisure and assiduous visits at all -hours of the day. It would, therefore, be greatly preferable to study -the animal comfortably at home; but it is above all things necessary -that she should lend herself to this plan. - -The Rhynchites fulfils the condition excellently well. She is a -peaceable enthusiast and works on my table with the same zest as in her -poplar-tree. A few tender shoots, planted in fresh sand, under a -woven-wire cover, and renewed as soon as they begin to fade, take the -place of the tree in my study. The Weevil, not in the least -intimidated, devotes herself to her industry even under the lens of my -magnifying-glass and supplies me with as many scrolls as I could wish -for. - -Let us watch her at work. She picks the leaf which she proposes to roll -from the young shoots sprouting in sheaves at the base of the trunk, -but picks it not among the lower leaves, which are already the correct -green and of a firm texture, nor yet among the terminal leaves, which -are in a fair way of growing. Above, they are too young, not wide -enough; below, they are too old, too tough, too hard to manage. - -The leaf selected belongs to the intermediate rows. As yet of a -doubtful green, in which yellow predominates, soft and glossy with -varnish, it has, or has very nearly, the final dimensions. Its -denticulations swell into delicate glandular pads, whence oozes a -little of the viscous matter that tars the buds at the moment when -their bracts become disjoined. - -A word now on the equipment in respect of tools. The legs are supplied -with double claws shaped like the meat-hooks of a steel-yard. The lower -side of the tarsi carries a thick tuft of white bristles. Thus shod, -the insect clambers very nimbly up the most slippery vertical walls; it -can stand and run like a fly, with its back downwards, on the ceiling -of a glass bell. This characteristic alone is enough to suggest the -subtle sense of equilibrium which the Weevil’s work will demand. - -The curved and powerful beak or rostrum, without being exaggerated in -size, spreads at the tip into a spatula ending in a pair of fine, -shear-like mandibles. It makes an excellent bodkin, which plays the -first or leading part in the whole work. The leaf, in fact, cannot be -rolled in its actual condition. It is a live blade which, owing to the -afflux of the sap and the tonicity of the tissues, would resume its -flat formation in proportion as the insect endeavoured to curve it. The -dwarf insect has not the strength to master a piece of these -dimensions, to roll it up so long as it retains the elasticity of life. -This is evident to our eyes; it is evident also to the eyes of the -Weevil. - -How is she to obtain the degree of inert suppleness required in the -circumstances? We ourselves would say: - -“We must pluck the leaf, let it fall to the earth, and manipulate it on -the ground when it is rightly withered.” - -The Curculionid is cleverer than we at this sort of business and does -not share our opinion. What she says to herself is: - -“On the ground, amid the obstruction of the grass, my labours would be -impracticable. I want elbow-room; I want the thing to hang in the air, -where there are no obstacles of any kind. And there is a more serious -consideration: my grub would refuse a rank, dried-up sausage; it -insists on food that retains a certain freshness. The scroll which I -intend for its consumption must be not a dead leaf, but an impaired -leaf, not altogether deprived of the juices with which the tree -supplies it. I must wean my joint, but not kill it outright, so that -the dying leaf may remain in its place for the few days during which -the extreme youth of the worm lasts.” - -The mother, therefore, having made her selection, takes up her stand on -the stalk of the leaf and there patiently drives in her rostrum, -turning it with a persistency that denotes the great importance of this -thrust of the bodkin. A little wound opens, a fairly deep wound, which -soon becomes a point of mortification. - -It is done: the sap-conduits are cut and allow only a scanty proportion -to ooze through to the edge. At the injured point, the leaf gives way -under the weight; it bends vertically, withers a little and soon -acquires the requisite flexibility. The moment has come to work it. - -That bodkin-thrust represents, although much less scientifically, the -prick of the hunting Hymenopteron’s sting. The latter wants for her -offspring a prey now dead, now paralyzed; she knows, with the -thoroughness of a consummate anatomist, at what points it behoves her -to insert the sting to obtain either sudden death or merely a cessation -of movement. The Rhynchites requires for her young a leaf rendered -flexible ad hoc, half-alive, paralyzed in a fashion, a leaf that can -easily be shaped into a scroll; she is wonderfully familiar with the -little leaf-stalk, the petiole, in which the vessels that dispense the -foliaceous energy are collected in a tiny bundle; and she inserts her -drill there, there only and never any elsewhere. Thus, at one blow, -without much trouble, she effects the ruin of the aqueduct. Where can -the beaked insect have learnt her astute trade as a drier-up of wells? - -The leaf of the poplar is an irregular rhombus, a spear-head whose -sides widen into pointed pinions. The manufacture of the scroll begins -with one of those two lateral corners, the right or left indifferently. -Notwithstanding the hanging posture of the leaf, which makes the upper -or lower surface equally easy of access, the insect never fails to take -its position on the upper side. It has its reasons, dictated by the -laws of mechanics. The upper surface of the piece, which is smoother -and more flexible, has to form the inside of the scroll; the lower -surface, which has greater elasticity because of its powerful veins, -must occupy the outside. The statics of the small-brained Weevil agree -with those of the scientists. - -See her at work. She stands on the rolling-line, with three of her legs -on the part already rolled and the three opposite on the part still -free. Solidly fixed, on both sides, with her claws and tufts, she -obtains a purchase with the legs on the one side, while making her -effort with the legs on the other. The two halves of the machine -alternate like motors, so that, at one time, the formed cylinder rolls -over the free blade and, at another, the free blade moves and is laid -upon the scroll already made. - -There is nothing regular, however, about these alternations, which -depend upon circumstances known to the animal alone. Perhaps they -merely afford a means of resting for a little while without stopping a -work that does not allow of interruption. In the same way, our two -hands mutually relieve each other by taking it in turns to carry the -burden. - -It is impossible to form an exact image of the difficulty overcome, -without watching, for hours on end, the obstinate straining of the -legs, which tremble with exhaustion and threaten to spoil everything if -one of them let go at the wrong moment, or without seeing with what -prudence the roller never releases one claw until the five others are -firmly fixed. On the one side are three points of support, on the other -three points of traction; and the six are shifted, one by one, little -by little, without for a moment allowing their connected mechanical -system to flag. A single instant of forgetfulness or weariness would -cause the rebellious piece to unroll its scroll and escape from the -manipulator’s grasp. - -The work is accomplished, moreover, in an uncomfortable position. The -leaf hangs very much on the slant or even vertically. Its surface is -varnished, is smooth as glass. But the worker is shod accordingly. With -her tufted soles, she scales the polished perpendicular; with her -twelve meat-hooks, she tackles the slippery floor. Yet this fine set of -tools does not rid the operation of all its difficulties. I find it no -easy matter to follow the progress of the rolling with the -magnifying-glass. The hands of a watch do not move more slowly. The -insect stands for a long time, at the same point, with its claws firmly -fixed; it is waiting for the leaf to be mastered and to cease -resistance. Here, of course, there is no gumming-process to catch hold -and keep the fresh surfaces glued together. The stability depends -purely upon the flexion acquired. And so it is not unusual for the -elasticity of the piece to overcome the efforts of the worker and -partly to unroll the more or less forward work. Stubbornly, with the -same impassive slowness, the insect begins all over again, replaces the -insubordinate piece. No, the Weevil is not one to allow herself to be -upset by failure: she knows too well what patience and time will do. - -The Rhynchites usually works backwards. When her line is finished, she -is careful not to abandon the fold which she has just made and return -to the starting-point to begin another. The part last folded is not yet -fastened sufficiently; if left to itself too soon, it might easily -rebel and flatten out again. The insect, therefore, persists at this -extreme point, which is more exposed than the rest; and then, without -letting go, makes her way backwards to the other end, still with -patient slowness. In this way, an added firmness is imparted to the -fold; and the next fold is prepared. At the end of the line there is a -fresh prolonged halt, followed by a fresh backward motion. Even so does -the husbandman’s plough-share alternate its work on the furrows. - -Less frequently, when, no doubt, the leaf is found to be so limp as to -entail no risk, the insect abandons the fold which it has just made, -without going over it again in the opposite direction, and quickly -scrambles to the starting-point to contrive a new one. - -There we are at last. Coming and going from top to bottom and from -bottom to top, the insect, by dint of stubborn dexterity, has rolled -its leaf. It is now on the extreme edge of the border, at the lateral -corner opposite to that whereat the work commenced. This is the -keystone upon which the stability of the rest depends. The Rhynchites -redoubles her cares and patience. With the end of her rostrum, expanded -spatulawise, she presses, at one point after the other, the edge to be -fixed, even as the tailor presses the recalcitrant edges of a seam with -his iron. For a long, a very long time, without moving, she pushes and -pushes, awaiting the proper adhesion. Point by point, the whole of the -corner welt is fastidiously sealed. - -How is adhesion obtained? If only some thread or other were brought -into play, one would readily look upon the rostrum as a sewing-machine -planting its needle perpendicularly into the stuff. But the comparison -is not allowable: there is no filament employed in the work. The -explanation of the adherence lies elsewhere. - -The leaf is young, we said; the fine pads of its denticulations are -glands whence ooze liquid beads of glue. These drops of viscous matter -are the gum, the sealing-wax. With the pressure of its beak, the insect -makes it gush more plentifully from the glands. It then has only to -hold the signet in position and wait for the impress to acquire -consistency. Taken all round, it is our method of sealing a letter. If -it hold ever so little, the leaf, losing its elasticity gradually as it -withers, will soon cease to fly back and will of itself retain the -scroll-form imposed upon it. - -The work is done. It is a cigar of the diameter of a thick straw and -about an inch long. It hangs perpendicularly from the end of the -bruised and bent stalk. It has taken the whole of a day to make. After -a short spell of rest, the mother tackles a second leaf and, working by -night, obtains another scroll. Two in twenty-four hours are as much as -the most diligent can achieve. - -Now what is the roller’s object? Would she go to the length of -preparing preserves for her own use? Obviously not: no insect, where -itself alone is concerned, devotes such care and patience to the -preparation of food. It is only in view of the family that it hoards so -industriously. The Rhynchites’ cigar forms the future dowry. - -Let us unroll it. Here, between the layers of the scroll, is an egg; -often there are two, three, or even four. They are oval, pale-yellow -and like fine drops of amber. Their adhesion to the leaf is very -slight; the least jerk loosens them. They are distributed without -order, pushed more or less deeply in the thickness of the cigar and -always isolated, singly. We find them in the centre of the scroll, -almost at the corner where the rolling begins; we come upon them -between the different layers and even near the edge which is sealed in -glue with the signet of the rostrum. - -Without interrupting her work on the scroll, without relaxing the -tension of her claws, the mother has laid them between the lips of the -fold in formation, as she felt them coming, one by one, duly matured, -at the end of her oviduct. She procreates in the midst of her toil in -the factory, between the wheels of the machine that would be thrown out -of gear if she snatched a moment’s rest. Manufacture and laying go -hand-in-hand. Short-lived, with but two or three weeks before her and -an expensive family to settle, the Rhynchites would fear to waste her -time in churching. - -This is not all: on the same leaf, not far from the scroll that is -being laboriously rolled, we almost always find the male. What is he -doing there, the idler? Is he watching the work as a mere inquisitive -onlooker, who happened to be passing and stopped to see the machinery -go round? Is he interested in the business? Does he ever feel inclined -to lend a helping hand, in case of need? - -One would say so. From time to time, I see him take his stand behind -the manufacturer, in the groove of the fold, hang on to the cylinder -and join for a little in the work. But this is done without zeal and -awkwardly. Half a turn of the wheel, or hardly; and that’s enough for -him. After all, it is not his business. He moves away, to the other end -of the leaf; he waits, he looks on. - -Let us give him credit for this attempt: paternal assistance in the -settling of the family is very rare among insects; let us congratulate -him on the help he gives, but not beyond measure: his was an interested -aid. It is to him a means of declaring his flame and urging his merits. - -And, in fact, after several refusals, notwithstanding the advances made -by a brief collaboration at the scroll, the impatient one is accepted. -Things happen in the work-yard. For ten minutes, the rolling is -suspended; but the workwoman’s legs, stubbornly contracted, are careful -not to let go: were their effort to cease, the scroll would unroll at -once. There must be no interruption of work for this brief diversion, -the animal’s only pleasure. - -The stopping of the machine, which is always held tight so as to keep -the recalcitrant roll in subjection, does not last long. The male -withdraws to a slight distance, without quitting the leaf, and the task -is resumed. Sooner or later, before the seals are put upon the work, a -new visit is paid by the dawdler, who, under pretence of assisting, -plants his claws for a moment into the rolling piece, plucks up courage -and renews his exploits with the same vigour as though nothing had yet -happened. And this is repeated three or four times during the making of -a single cigar, so much so that one asks one’s self whether the -depositing of each germ does not demand the direct cooperation of the -insatiable suitor. - -According to entomological rules, once the fun is over, everything -should relapse into calmness and each mother should to work at those -cigars without further disturbance. In this case, the general law -relents. I have never seen a scroll shaped without a male lurking in -the neighbourhood; and, when I have had the patience to wait, I have -always witnessed manifold pairings. These weddings repeated for each -germ puzzle me. Where, relying on the books, I expected uniformity, I -find uncertainty. - -This is not an isolated case. I will mention a second and one that is -even more striking. It is supplied by the Capricorn (Cerambyx Heros). I -bring up a few couples in the volery, with sliced pears for food and -oak billets wherein to lay the eggs. Pairing-time lasts during nearly -the whole of July. For four weeks, the great horned one does nothing -but mount his companion, who, gripped by her rider, wanders at will -and, with the tip of her oviduct, selects the fissures in the bark -best-suited to receive the eggs. - -At long intervals, the Cerambyx alights and goes to refresh himself -with a piece of pear. Then, suddenly, he stamps his feet as though he -had gone mad; he returns with a frantic rush, clambers into the saddle -and resumes his position, of which he makes free use at all hours of -the night and day. - -At the moment when an egg is being deposited, he keeps quiet: with his -hairy tongue, he polishes the back of the egg-layer, which is a -Capricorn’s way of caressing; but, the instant after, he renews his -attempts, which are usually crowned with success. There is no end to -it! - -The pairing continues in this manner for a month: it does not cease -until the ovaries are exhausted. Then, mutually worn out, having -nothing more to do on the trunk of the oak, husband and wife separate, -languish for a few days and die. - -What conclusion are we to draw from this extraordinary persistency in -the Cerambyx, the Rhynchites and many others? Simply this: our truths -are but provisional; assailed by the truths of to-morrow, they become -entangled with so many contradictory facts that the last word of -knowledge is doubt. - -In the spring, while the leaves of the poplar are being worked into -scrolls, another Rhynchites, she also gorgeously attired, makes cigars -of the leaves of the vine. She is a little stouter, of a metallic -gold-green turning to blue. Were she but larger, the splendid Vine -Weevil would occupy a very respectable place among the gems of -entomology. - -To attract our eyes, she has something better than the brilliancy of -her appearance: she has her industry, which makes her hated by the -vine-grower, so jealous of his property. The peasant knows her; he even -speaks of her by a special name, an honour rarely bestowed in the world -of the smaller animals. - -The rural vocabulary is rich where plants, but very poor where insects -are concerned. A couple of dozen words, inextricably confused owing to -their general character, represent the whole of entomological -nomenclature in the Provençal idiom, which becomes so expressive and so -fertile the moment it has to do with any sort of vegetation, sometimes -even with a poor blade of grass which one would believe known to the -botanist alone. - -The man of the soil is interested first and foremost in the plant, the -great foster-mother; the rest leaves him indifferent. Magnificent -adornment, curious habits, marvels of instinct: all these say nothing -to him. But to touch his vine, to eat grass that doesn’t belong to one: -what a heinous crime! Quick, give the malefactor a nickname, to serve -as a penal collar! - -This time, the Provençal peasant has gone out of his way to invent a -special word: he calls the cigar-roller the Bécaru. Here the scientific -expression and the rural expression agree fully. Rhynchites and Bécaru -are exact equivalents: each refers to the insect’s long beak. - -The Vine Weevil adopts the same method in her work as her cousin of the -poplar. The leaf is first pricked with the rostrum at a spot in the -stalk, which provokes a stoppage of the sap and flexibility in the -withered blade. The rolling begins at the corner of one of the lower -lobes, with the smooth, green upper surface within and the cottony -strongly-veined lower surface without. - -But the great width of the leaf and its deep indentations hardly ever -allow of regular work from one end to the other. Abrupt folds occur -instead and repeatedly alter the direction of the rolling, leaving now -the green and now the cottony surface on the outside, without any -appreciable order or arrangement, as though by chance. The poplar-leaf, -with its simple form and its moderate size, gives a neat scroll; the -vine-leaf, with its cumbersome girth and its complicated outline, -produces a shapeless cigar, an untidy parcel. - - - - - - - - - - -THE HALICTI - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE HALICTI - - -Do you know the Halicti? Perhaps not. There is no great harm done: it -is quite possible to enjoy the few pleasures of life without knowing -the Halicti. Nevertheless, when questioned with persistence, those -humble creatures with no history can tell us some very singular things; -and their acquaintance is not to be disdained if we desire to enlarge -our ideas a little upon the bewildering rabble of this world. Since we -have nothing better to do, let us look into these Halicti. They are -worth the trouble. - -How shall we recognize them? They are manufacturers of honey, generally -slimmer and slenderer than the Bee of our hives. They constitute a -numerous group that varies greatly in size and colouring. Some there -are that exceed the dimensions of the Common Wasp; others might be -compared with the Domestic Fly, or are even smaller. In the midst of -this variety, which forms the despair of the novice, one characteristic -remains invariable. Every Halictus carries the plainly-legible -certificate of her guild. - -Look at the last ring, at the tip of the belly, on the dorsal surface. -If your capture be an Halictus, there will be here a smooth and shiny -line, a narrow groove along which the sting slides up and down when the -insect is on the defensive. This slide for the unsheathed weapon -denotes some member of the Halictus tribe, without distinction of size -or colour. No elsewhere, in the sting-bearing order, is this original -sort of groove in use. It is the distinctive mark, the blazon of the -family. - -The works begin in April, discreetly and betrayed only by tiny mounds -of fresh earth. There is no animation in the work-yards. The labourers -show themselves very seldom, so busy are they at the bottom of their -pits. At moments, here and there, the summit of a mole-hill moves and -tumbles down the slopes of the cone: it is a worker coming up with her -armful of rubbish and shooting it outside, without showing herself in -the open. Nothing more for the moment. - -May arrives, gay with flowers and sunshine. The navvies of April have -turned themselves into harvesters. At every moment, I see them -settling, all befloured with yellow, atop of the mole-hills turned into -craters. The largest is Halictus Zebrus (Walck), whom I often see -building her nest in the walks of my garden. Let us watch her closely. -When provisioning-time begins, a parasite arrives, coming I know not -whence. She will make us witness an unbridled act of brigandage. - -In May, I visit my most populous colony daily, at ten o’clock in the -morning, when the victualling-operations are in full swing. Seated on a -low chair in the sun, with my back bent and my arms upon my knees, I -watch, without moving, until dinner-time. What attracts me is a -parasite, a trumpery Gnat, the daring tyrant of the Halictus. - -Has the jade a name? I like to think so, without, however, caring to -waste my time in enquiries that can have little interest for the -reader. Facts clearly stated are preferable to the dry minutiæ of -nomenclature. Let me content myself with giving a brief description of -the culprit. She is a Dipteron five millimetres long. [34] Eyes, dark -red; face, white. Corselet, ashy grey, with five rows of fine black -dots, which are the roots of stiff bristles pointing backwards. Greyish -belly, pale below. Black legs. - -She abounds in the colony under observation. Crouching in the sun, near -a burrow, she waits. As soon as the Halictus arrives from the harvest, -her legs yellow with pollen, she darts forth and pursues her, keeping -behind her in all the turns of her wavering flight. At last, the -Hymenopteron suddenly dives indoors. No less suddenly, the other -settles on the mole-hill, quite close to the entrance. Motionless, with -her head turned towards the front-door, she waits for the Bee to finish -her business. The latter reappears at last and, for a few seconds, -stands on the threshold of her dwelling, with her head and thorax -outside the hole. The Gnat, on her side, does not stir. - -Often, they are face to face, separated by a space no wider than a -finger’s breadth. Neither of them shows the least excitement. The -Halictus—judging, at least, by her tranquillity—takes no notice of the -parasite lying in wait for her; the parasite, on the other hand, -displays no fear of being punished for her audacity. She remains -imperturbable, she, the dwarf, in the presence of the colossus who -could crush her with a blow of one of her legs. - -In vain I peer to discover some sign of apprehension on either side: -nothing in the Halictus points to a knowledge of the danger run by her -family; nor does anything in the Dipteron betray the dread of a severe -correction. Plunderer and plundered stare at each other for a moment; -and that is all. - -If she liked, the genial giantess could rip up with her claw the little -bandit that ruins her home; she could crunch her with her mandibles, -pink her with her stiletto. She does nothing of the sort, but leaves -the brigand in peace, to sit quite close, motionless, with her red eyes -fixed on the threshold of the house. Why this fatuous clemency? - -The Bee departs. Forthwith, the Gnat walks in, with no more ceremony -than if she were entering her own place. She now chooses among the -victualled cells at her ease, for they are all open; she leisurely -settles her eggs. No one will disturb her until the Bee’s return. To -dust one’s legs with pollen, to distend one’s crop with syrup is a work -that takes long a-doing; and the intruder, therefore, has time to spare -wherein to commit her felony. Moreover, her chronometer is -well-regulated and gives the exact measure of the length of absence. -When the Halictus comes back from the fields, the Gnat has decamped. In -some favourable spot, not far from the burrow, she awaits the -opportunity for a fresh misdeed. - -What would happen if a parasite were surprised in her work by the Bee? -Nothing serious. I have seen them, greatly daring, follow the Halictus -right into the cave and remain there for some time while the mixture of -pollen and honey is being prepared. Unable to make use of the paste so -long as the harvester is kneading it, they go back to the open air and -wait on the threshold for the Bee to come out. They return to the -sunlight, unflustered, with calm steps: a clear proof that they have -suffered no unpleasantness in the depths where the Halictus works. - -A tap on the Gnat’s neck if she become too enterprising in the -neighbourhood of the cake: that is all that the lady of the house seems -to allow herself, to drive away the intruder. There is no serious -affray between the robber and the robbed. This is apparent from the -bold and undamaged aspect of the dwarf who returns from visiting the -giantess engaged down in the burrow. - -The Bee, when she comes home, whether laden with provisions or not, -hesitates for a while; in a series of rapid zigzags, she moves -backwards and forwards, to and fro, at a short distance from the -ground. This intricate flight at first suggests the idea that the -Hymenopteron is trying to lead her persecutress astray by means of an -inextricable net-work of marches and counter-marches. That would -certainly be a prudent move on her part; but so much wisdom appears to -be denied her. - -Her perturbation does not concern the enemy, but rather the difficulty -of finding her dwelling, amid the confusion of the mole-hills -encroaching one upon the other and the disorder of the lanes of the -hamlet, which, owing to landslips of fresh rubbish, alter in appearance -from one day to the next. Her hesitation is manifest, for she often -blunders and alights at the entrance to a burrow that is not hers. The -mistake is at once perceived from the petty details of the doorway. - -The investigation is resumed with the same flight in swing-like curves, -intermingled with sudden excursions to a distance. At last, the burrow -is recognized. The Halictus dives into it with a rush; but, however -prompt her disappearance underground, the Gnat is there, perched on the -threshold, with her eyes turned to the entrance, waiting for the Bee to -come out, so that she may visit the honey-jars in her turn. - -When the house-owner ascends, the other draws back a little, just -enough to leave a free passage and no more. Why should she put herself -out? The meeting is so peaceful that, short of further information, one -would not suspect the presence face to face of a destroyer and -destroyed. Far from being intimidated by the sudden arrival of the -Halictus, the Gnat pays hardly any attention; and, in the same way, the -Halictus takes no notice of her persecutress, unless the bandit pursue -her and worry her on the wing. Then, with a sudden bend, the -Hymenopteron makes off. - -The parasite of the Halictus is in a difficult position. The homing Bee -has her booty of honey in her crop and her harvest of flour on the -brushes of her legs: the first is inaccessible to the thief; the second -is in the form of powder and devoid of stable support. And even then it -is quite insufficient. To collect the wherewithal to knead the round -loaf, the journeys have to be repeated. When the necessary amount is -obtained, the Halictus will pound it with the tip of her mandibles and -shape it with her feet into a globule. The Dipteron’s egg, were it -present among the materials, would certainly be in danger during this -manipulation. - -The alien egg, therefore, must be laid on the made bread; and, as the -preparation takes place underground, the parasite is under the forced -necessity of going down to the Halictus. With inconceivable daring, she -does go down, even when the Bee is there. Whether through cowardice or -foolish indulgence, the dispossessed insect lets the other have its -way. - -The object of the Gnat, with her tenacious lying-in-wait and her -reckless burglaries, is not to feed herself at the harvester’s expense: -she could find the wherewithal to live on in the flowers, with much -less trouble than her thieving trade involves. The most, I think, that -she can allow herself to do in the Halictus’ cellars is demurely to -taste the victuals, in order to ascertain their quality. Her great, her -sole business is to settle her family. The stolen goods are not for -herself, but for her sons. - -Let us dig up the pollen-loaves. We shall find them most often crumbled -with no regard to economy, simply abandoned to waste. We shall see two -or three maggots, with pointed mouths, moving in the yellow flour -scattered over the floor of the cell. These are the Dipteron’s progeny. -With them we sometimes find the lawful owner, the worm of the Halictus, -but stunted and emaciated with fasting. His gluttonous companions, -without otherwise molesting him, deprive him of the best of everything. -The wretched starveling dwindles, shrivels and disappears with little -delay. His corpse, a mere atom, blended with the remaining provisions, -supplies the maggots with one mouthful the more. - -And what does the mother Halictus do in this disaster? She is free to -visit her grubs at any moment; she has but to put her head into the -passage of the house: she cannot fail to be apprised of their distress. -The squandered loaf, the disorder of swarming vermin are events easily -recognized. Why does she not take the intruders by the skin of the -belly? To crush them with a bite of her mandibles, to fling them out of -doors were the business of a second. And the foolish creature never -thinks of it, leaves the famishers in peace! - -She does worse. When the time of the nymphosis comes, the Halictus -mother goes to the cells rifled by the parasite and closes them with an -earthen plug as carefully as she does the rest. This final barricade, -an excellent precaution when the box is occupied by an Halictus in -course of metamorphosis, becomes a screaming absurdity when the -Dipteron has passed that way. Instinct does not hesitate in the face of -this incongruity: it seals up emptiness. I say, emptiness, because the -crafty maggot hastens to decamp the instant that the victuals are -consumed, as though it foresaw an insuperable obstacle for the coming -Fly: it quits the cell before the Hymenopteron closes it. - -To rascally guile the parasite adds prudence. All, until there is none -of them left, abandon the clay homes which would be their undoing, once -the entrance was plugged up. The earthy retreat, so grateful to the -tender skin, thanks to its polished coating, so free from humidity, -thanks to its waterproof glaze, ought, one would think, to make an -excellent waiting-place. The maggots will have none of it. Lest they -should find themselves walled in when they become frail Gnats, they go -away and disperse in the neighbourhood of the ascending pit. - -My digging operations, in fact, always reveal the pupæ outside the -cells, never inside. I find them enshrined, one by one, in the body of -the clayey earth, in a narrow niche which the emigrant worm has -contrived to make for itself. Next spring, when the hour comes for -leaving, the adult insect has but to creep through the rubbish, which -is easy work. - -Another and no less imperative reason compels this change of abode on -the parasite’s part. In July, a second generation of the Halictus is -procreated. The Dipteron, reduced, on her side, to a single brood, -remains in the pupa state and awaits the spring of the following year -before effecting her transformation. The honey-gatherer resumes her -work in the natal hamlet; she avails herself of the pits and cells -constructed in the spring, saving no little time thereby. The whole -elaborate structure has remained in good condition. It needs but a few -repairs to make the old house habitable. - -Now what would happen if the Bee, so intent upon cleanliness, were to -find a pupa in the cell which she is sweeping? She would treat the -cumbersome object as she would a piece of old plaster. It would be no -more to her than any other refuse, a bit of gravel, which, seized with -the mandibles, crushed perhaps, would be sent to join the rubbish-heap -outside. Once removed from the soil and exposed to the inclemencies of -the weather, the pupa would inevitably perish. - -I admire this lucid foresight of the maggot, which foregoes the comfort -of the moment for the security of the future. Two dangers threaten it: -to be immured in a casket whence the Fly can never issue; or else to -die out of doors, from the harsh effects of the air, when the Bee -sweeps out the restored cells. To avoid this two-fold peril, it -absconds before the door is closed, before the Halictus sets her house -in order in July. - -Let us now see what comes of the parasite’s intrusion. In the course of -June, when peace is established in the Halictus’ home, I dig up my -largest colony, comprising some fifty burrows, thoroughly. Not an atom -of the underground distress shall escape my eye. There are four of us -engaged in sifting the excavated earth through our fingers. What one -has examined another takes up and examines in his turn; and then -another and another yet. The returns are heart-rending. We do not -succeed in finding one single nymph of the Halictus. The populous city -has perished in its entirety; and its place has been taken by the -Dipteron. The latter superabounds in the form of pupæ, which I collect -in order to trace their evolution. - -The year runs its course; and the little russet barrels, into which the -original maggots have hardened and contracted, remain stationary. They -are seeds endowed with latent life. The heats of July do not rouse them -from their torpor. In that month, the period of the second generation -of the Halictus, there is a sort of truce of God: the parasite rests -and the Bee works in peace. If hostilities were to be resumed straight -away, as murderous in summer as they were in spring, the progeny of the -Halictus, over-endangered, might possibly disappear. The lull of the -second brood puts things in order once more. - -In April, when Halictus Zebrus, in search of a good place for her -burrows, wanders with a wavering flight through the garden-walks, the -parasite, on its side, hastens to hatch. Oh, the precise, the terrible -agreement between those two calendars, the calendar of the persecutor -and the persecuted! At the very moment when the Bee comes out, here is -the Gnat: her work of extermination by famine is ready to begin all -over again. - -Were this an isolated case, one’s thoughts would not dwell upon it: an -Halictus more or less in the world makes little difference in the -general balance. But, alas, brigandage in all its forms is the rule in -the eternal conflict of living things! From the lowest to the highest, -every producer is imposed upon by the unproductive. Man himself, whose -exceptional rank ought to raise him above such pettiness, excels in -this ferocious eagerness. He says to himself that business means -getting hold of the money of other people, even as the Gnat says to -herself that business means getting hold of the Halictus’ honey. And, -to play the brigand to better purpose, he invents war, the art of -killing wholesale and of doing with glory that which, when done on a -smaller scale, leads to the gallows. - -Shall we never behold the realization of that sublime dream which is -sung on Sundays in the smallest village church: Gloria in excelsis Deo -et in terra pax hominibus bonæ voluntatis! If war affected humanity -alone, perhaps the future would have peace in store for us, seeing that -generous minds are working for it with might and main; but the scourge -also rages in the brute, which, in its obstinate way, will never listen -to reason. Once the evil is laid down as a general condition, it -perhaps becomes incurable. Life in the future, there is every cause to -fear, will be what it is to-day, a perpetual massacre. - -Whereupon, by a desperate effort of the imagination, one pictures to -one’s self a giant capable of juggling with the planets. He is -irresistible strength; he is also law and justice. He knows of our -battles, our butcheries, our farm-burnings, our town-burnings, our -brutal triumphs; he knows our explosives, our shells, our -torpedo-boats, our iron-clads and all our cunning engines of -destruction; he knows as well the appalling extent of the appetites -among all creatures, down to the very lowest. Well, if that just, that -mighty one held the earth under his thumb, would he hesitate whether he -ought to crush it? - -He would not hesitate. He would let things take their course. He would -say to himself: - -“The old belief is right; the earth is a rotten nut, gnawed by the -vermin of evil. It is a barbarous essay, a painful stage towards a -kindlier destiny. Let it be: order and justice are waiting at the end.” - - - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE HALICTI: THE PORTRESS - - -The home dug by the solitary Bee in early spring remains, when summer -comes, the joint inheritance of the members of the family. There were -ten cells, or thereabouts, underground. Now from these cells there have -issued none but females. This is the rule among the three species of -Halicti. They have two generations in each year. That of the spring -consists of females only; that of the summer comprises both males and -females, in almost equal numbers. - -The household, therefore, if not reduced by accidents, especially by -the famine-producing Gnat, would consist of half-a-score of sisters, -nothing but sisters, all equally industrious and all capable of -procreating without a nuptial partner. On the other hand, the maternal -dwelling is no hovel; far from it: the entrance-gallery, the principal -room of the house, will serve very well, after a few odds and ends of -refuse have been swept away. This will be so much gained in time, ever -precious to the Bee. The cells at the bottom, the clay cabins, are also -nearly intact. To make use of them, it will be enough to freshen up the -stucco with the polisher of the tongue. - -Well, which of the survivors, all equally entitled to the succession, -will inherit the house? There are six of them, seven, or more, -according to the chances of mortality. To whose share will the maternal -dwelling fall? - -There is no quarrel between the interested parties. The mansion is -recognized as common property without dispute. The sister Bees come and -go peacefully through the same door, attend to their business, pass and -let the others pass. Down at the bottom of the pit, each has her little -demesne, her group of cells dug at the cost of fresh toil, when the old -ones, now insufficient in number, are occupied. In these recesses, the -rights of individual property prevail: each mother works privately, -jealous of her belongings and her isolation. Every elsewhere, traffic -is free to all. - -The exits and entrances in the working fortress provide a spectacle of -the highest interest. A harvester arrives from the fields, the brushes -of her legs dusted with pollen. If the door be open, the Bee at once -dives underground. To tarry on the threshold would mean waste of time; -and the business is urgent. Sometimes, several appear upon the scene -almost at the same moment. The passage is too narrow for two, -especially when they have to avoid any inopportune contact that would -make the floury burden fall to the floor. The nearest to the opening -enters quickly. The others, drawn up on the threshold in the order of -their arrival, respectful of one another’s rights, await their turn. As -soon as the first disappears, the second follows after her and is -herself swiftly followed by the third and then the others, one by one. - -Sometimes, again, there is a meeting between a Bee about to come out -and a Bee about to go in. Then the latter draws back a little and makes -way for the former. The politeness is reciprocal. I see some who, when -on the point of emerging from the pit, go down again and leave the -passage free for the one who has just arrived. Thanks to this mutual -spirit of accommodation, the traffic of the household proceeds without -impediment. - -Let us keep our eyes open. There is something better than the -well-preserved order of the entrances. When an Halictus appears, -returning from her round of the flowers, we see a sort of trap-door, -which closed the house, suddenly fall and give a free passage. As soon -as the new arrival has entered, the trap rises back into its place, -almost level with the ground, and closes the door anew. The same thing -happens when the Bees go out. At a request from within, the trap -descends, the door opens and the Bee flies away. The outlet is closed -forthwith. - -What can this shutter be which, descending or ascending in the cylinder -of the pit, after the fashion of a piston, opens and closes the house -at each departure and at each arrival? It is an Halictus, who has -become the portress of the establishment. With her large head, she -makes an impassable barrier at the top of the entrance-hall. If any one -belonging to the house wants to go in or out, she “pulls the cord,” -that is to say, she withdraws to a spot where the gallery widens and -leaves room for two. The other passes. She then at once returns to the -orifice and blocks it with the top of her head. Motionless, ever on the -look-out, she does not leave her post save to drive away importunate -visitors. - -Let us profit by her brief appearances outside. We recognize in her an -Halictus similar to the others, who are now busy harvesting; but the -top of her head is bald and her dress is dingy and threadbare. The -handsome striped belts, alternately brown and ruddy-brown, have almost -vanished from her half-stripped back. Her old, tattered clothes, -well-worn with work, explain the matter clearly. - -The Bee who mounts guard and performs the office of a portress at the -entrance to the burrow is older than the others. She is the foundress -of the establishment, the mother of the actual workers, the grandmother -of the present grubs. In the spring-time of her life, three months ago, -she wore herself out in solitary works. Now that her ovaries are dried -up, she takes a well-earned rest. No, rest is hardly the word. She -still works, she assists the household to the best of her power. -Incapable of being a mother for the second time, she becomes a -portress, opens the door to the members of her family and makes -strangers keep their distance. - -The suspicious kid, looking through the chink, said to the wolf: - -“Show me a white foot, or I shan’t open the door.” - -No less suspicious, the grandmother says to each comer: - -“Show me the yellow foot of an Halictus, or you won’t be let in.” - -None is admitted to the dwelling unless she be recognized as a member -of the family. - -See for yourself. Near the burrow passes an Ant, an unscrupulous -adventuress, who would not be sorry to know the meaning of the honeyed -fragrance that rises from the bottom of the cellar. - -“Be off, or mind yourself!” says the portress, with a movement of her -neck. - -As a rule, the threat suffices. The Ant decamps. Should she insist, the -watcher leaves her sentry-box, flings herself upon the saucy jade, -buffets her and drives her away. The moment the punishment has been -administered, she returns on guard and resumes her sentry-go. - -Next comes the turn of a Leaf-cutter (Megachile Albocincta, Pérez), -who, unskilled in the art of burrowing, utilizes, after the manner of -her kind, the old galleries dug by others. Those of Halictus Zebrus -suit her very well, when the terrible Gnat of spring has left them -vacant for lack of heirs. Seeking for a home wherein to stack her -robinia-leaf honey-pots, she often makes a flying inspection of my -colonies of Halicti. A burrow seems to take her fancy; but, before she -sets foot on earth, her buzzing is noticed by the watchwoman, who -suddenly darts out and makes a few gestures on the threshold of her -door. That is all. The Leaf-cutter has understood. She removes herself. - -Sometimes, the Megachile has time to alight and insert her head into -the mouth of the pit. In a moment, the portress is there, comes a -little higher and bars the way. Follows a not very serious contest. The -stranger quickly recognizes the rights of the first occupant and, -without insisting, goes to seek an abode elsewhere. - -A consummate marauder (Cælioxys Caudata, Spinola), a parasite of the -Megachile, receives a sound drubbing under my eyes. She thought, the -scatter-brain, that she was entering the Leaf-cutter’s establishment! -She soon finds out her error; she meets the portress Halictus, who -administers a severe correction. She makes off at full speed. And so -with the others who, by mistake or ambition, seek to enter the burrow. - -The same intolerance exists among grandmothers. About the middle of -July, when the animation of the colony is at its height, two categories -of Halicti are easily distinguishable: the young mothers and the old. -The former, much more numerous, brisk of movement and smartly arrayed, -come and go unceasingly from the burrows to the fields and from the -fields to the burrows. The latter, faded and dispirited, wander idly -from hole to hole. They look as though they had lost their way and were -incapable of finding their homes. Who are these vagabonds? I see -afflicted ones bereft of a family through the act of the odious spring -Gnat. Many burrows have gone under altogether. At the awakening of -summer, the mother found herself alone. She left her empty house and -set off in search of a dwelling where there were cradles to defend, a -guard to mount. But those fortunate nests already have their overseer, -the foundress, who, jealous of her rights, gives her unemployed -neighbour a cold reception. One sentry is enough; two would simply -block the narrow guard-room. - -I am privileged at times to witness a fight between two grandmothers. -When the tramp in quest of employment appears outside the door, the -lawful occupant does not move from her post, does not withdraw into the -passage, as she would before an Halictus returning from the fields. Far -from making way, she threatens with her feet and mandibles. The other -hits back, tries to enter notwithstanding. Cuffs are exchanged. The -fray ends by the defeat of the stranger, who goes off to pick a quarrel -elsewhere. - -These little scenes afford us a glimpse of certain details of the -highest interest in the manners of Halictus Zebrus. The mother who -builds her nest in the spring no longer leaves her home, once her works -are finished. Shut up at the bottom of the burrow, busied with the -minute cares of housekeeping, or else drowsing, she waits for her -daughters to come out. When, in the summer heats, the life of the -colony recommences, having naught to do outside as a harvester, she -stands sentry at the entrance to the hall, so as to let none in save -the workers of the home, her own daughters. She wards off the -ill-intentioned. None can enter without the door-keeper’s consent. - -There is nothing to tell us that the watcher at moments deserts her -post. I never see her leave her house to go and refresh herself at the -flowers. Her age and her sedentary occupation, which implies no great -fatigue, relieve her perhaps of the need of nourishment. Perhaps, also, -the young ones returning from pillage disgorge a drop of the contents -of their crops for her benefit, from time to time. Fed or not, the old -one no longer goes out. - -But what she does need is the joys of an active family. Many are -deprived of these. The Dipteron’s burglary has destroyed the household. -The sorely-tried Bees then abandon the deserted burrow. It is these -who, ragged and careworn, wander through the hamlet. They move in short -flights; more often, they remain motionless. It is they who, embittered -in their natures, offer violence to their acquaintances and seek to -dislodge them. They grow rarer and more languid from day to day; then -they disappear for good. What has become of them? The little grey -lizard had his eye on them: they are easy mouthfuls. - -Those settled in their own demesne, those who guard the honey-factory -wherein their daughters, the heiresses of the maternal establishment, -work display a wonderful vigilance. The more I visit them, the more I -admire them. In the cool hours of the early morning, when the -harvesters, not finding the pollen-flour sufficiently ripened by the -sun, remain indoors, I see the portresses at their posts, at the top of -the gallery. Here, motionless, their heads flush with the earth, they -bar the door to all invaders. If I look at them too closely, they -retreat a little way and, in the shadow, await the indiscreet -observer’s departure. - -I return when the harvest is in full swing, between eight o’clock and -twelve. There is now, as the Halicti go in or out, a succession of -prompt descents to open the door and ascents to close it. The portress -is in the busy exercise of her functions. - -In the afternoon, the heat is too great, the workers do not go to the -fields. Retiring to the bottom of the house, they varnish the new -cells, they bake the round loaf that is to receive the egg. The -grandmother is still upstairs, stopping the door with her bald head. -For her, there is no nap during the stifling hours: the general safety -will not allow of it. - -I come back again at night-fall, or even later. By the light of a -lantern, I rebehold the overseer, as zealous and assiduous as in the -day-time. The others are resting, but not she, for fear, apparently, of -nocturnal dangers known to herself alone. Does she nevertheless end by -descending to the quiet of the floor below? It seems probable, so -essential must rest be, after the fatigue of such a watch! - -It is evident that, guarded in this manner, the burrow is exempt from -calamities similar to those which, too often, dispeople it in May. Let -the Gnat come now, if she dare, to steal the Halictus’ loaves! Her -audacity, her stubborn lurking ways will not conceal her from the -watchful one, who will put her to flight with a threatening gesture or, -if she persist, crush her with her nippers. She will not come; and we -know the reason: until spring returns, she is underground in the pupa -state. - -But, in her absence, there is no lack, among the Muscid rabble, of -further sweaters of other insects’ labour. There are parasites for -every sort of business, for every sort of theft. And yet my daily -visits do not catch one of these in the neighbourhood of the July -burrows. How well the rascals know their trade! How well-aware are they -of the guard who keeps watch at the Halictus’ door! There is no foul -deed possible nowadays; and the result is that no Muscid puts in an -appearance and the tribulations of last spring are not repeated. - -The grandmother who, dispensed by age from maternal worries, mounts -guard at the entrance of the home and watches over the safety of the -family tells us of sudden births in the genesis of the instincts; she -shows us an immediate capacity which nothing, either in her own past -conduct or in the actions of her daughters, could have led us to -suspect. Timorous in her prime, in the month of May, when she lived -alone in the burrow of her making, she has become gifted, in her -decline, with a superb contempt of danger and dares, in her impotence, -what she never dared do in her strength. - -Formerly, when her tyrant, the Gnat, entered her home in her presence, -or, more often, stood at the entrance, face to face with herself, the -silly Bee did not stir, did not even threaten the red-eyed bandit, the -dwarf whose doom she could so easily have sealed. Was it terror on her -part? No, for she attended to her duties with her usual -punctiliousness; no, for the strong do not allow themselves to be thus -petrified by the weak. It was ignorance of the danger, it was sheer -foolishness. - -And behold, to-day, the ignoramus of three months ago, without serving -any apprenticeship, knows the peril, knows it well. Every stranger that -appears is kept at a distance, without distinction of size or race. If -the threatening gesture be not enough, the keeper sallies forth and -flings herself upon the persistent one. Poltroonery has developed into -courage. - -How has this change been brought about? I should like to picture the -Halictus gaining wisdom from the misfortunes of spring and capable -thenceforth of looking out for danger; I would gladly credit her with -having learnt in the stern school of experience the advantages of a -guard. I must give up the idea. If, by dint of gradual little acts of -progress, the Bee has gradually achieved the glorious invention of a -portress, how comes it that the fear of thieves is intermittent? It is -true that, alone, in May, she cannot stand permanently at her door: the -business of the house takes precedence of everything. But she ought, at -least, as soon as her offspring are persecuted, to know the parasite -and give chase when, at every moment, she finds her almost under her -feet and even in her house. Yet she pays no attention to her. - -The harsh trials of the ancestors, therefore, have bequeathed naught to -her of a nature to alter her placid character; and her own tribulations -have nothing to say to the sudden awakening of her vigilance in July. -Like ourselves, the animal has its joys and its troubles. It uses the -former eagerly; it bothers but little about the latter, which is, when -all is said, the best way of realizing an animal enjoyment of life. To -mitigate these troubles and protect the progeny there is the -inspiration of the instinct, which is able to give a portress to the -Halictus without the counsels of experience. - -When the victualling is finished, when the Halicti no longer sally -forth on harvesting intent nor return all floured over with their -burden, the old Bee is still at her post, as vigilant as ever. The -final preparations for the brood are made below; the cells are closed. -The door is kept until everything is finished. Then grandmother and -mothers leave the house. Exhausted by the performance of their duty, -they go, somewhere or other, to die. - -In September appears the second generation, comprising both males and -females. - - - - - - - - - - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION - - -The Scorpion is an uncommunicative insect, occult in his manners and -unpleasant to deal with, so much so that his history, apart from the -findings of anatomy, is reduced to little or nothing. The scalpel of -the masters has made us acquainted with his organic structure; but, so -far as I know, no observer has thought of interviewing him, with any -sort of persistence, on the subject of his private habits. Ripped up, -after a preliminary maceration in alcohol, he is very well-known -indeed; acting within the domain of his instincts, he is hardly known -at all. And yet none of the segmented animals were more deserving of a -detailed biography. He has at all times struck the popular imagination, -even to the point of being numbered among the signs of the zodiac. - -Fear made the gods, said Lucretius. Deified by terror, the Scorpion is -glorified in the sky by a constellation and in the almanac by the -symbol for the month of October. Let us try to make him speak. - -Before housing my animals, let us give a brief description of them. The -common Black Scorpion (Scorpio Europæus, Lin.), distributed over the -greater part of South Europe, is known to all. He frequents the dark -spots near our dwelling-places; on rainy days in autumn, he makes his -way into our houses, sometimes even under our bed-clothes. The hateful -animal causes us more fright than damage. Although not unusual in my -present abode, his visits have never had consequences of the least -seriousness. The weird beast, overrated in reputation, is repulsive -rather than dangerous. - -Much more to be feared and much less well-known generally is the -Languedocian Scorpion, isolated in the Mediterranean provinces. Far -from seeking our dwelling-houses, he keeps out of the way, in untilled -solitudes. Beside the Black Scorpion, he is a giant who, when -full-grown, measures eight to nine centimetres in length. [35] His -colouring is that of pale, withered straw. - -The tail, which is really the animal’s belly, is a series of five -prismatic joints, like little kegs whose staves meet in undulating -ridges resembling strings of beads. Similar cords cover the arms and -fore-arms of the claws and divide them into long facets. Others run -sinuously along the back and imitate the joints of a cuirass, the -pieces of which might have been collected by a capricious -milling-punch. These bead-like projections produce a fiercely robust -armour, which is characteristic of the Languedocian Scorpion. It is as -though the animal had been fashioned out of chips with blows of the -adze. - -The tail ends in a sixth joint, which is vesicular and smooth. This is -the gourd in which the poison, a formidable fluid resembling water in -appearance, is elaborated and held in reserve. A curved, brown and very -sharp sting ends the apparatus. A pore, visible only under the lens, -opens at some distance from the point. Through this, the venomous -humour is injected into the puncture. The sting is very hard and very -sharp-pointed. Holding it between the tips of my fingers, I can push it -through a sheet of cardboard as easily as though I were using a needle. - -Owing to its powerful curve, the sting points downwards when the tail -is held in a straight line. To use his weapon, the Scorpion must -therefore raise it, turn it round and strike upwards. In fact, this is -his invariable practice. The tail bends over the animal’s back and -comes forward before pinking the adversary held down with the claws. -The animal, for that matter, is almost always in this posture: whether -in motion or at rest, he curves his tail over his chine. He very rarely -drags it slackened in a straight line. - -The pincers, buccal hands suggesting the claws of the Crayfish, are -organs of battle and information. When moving forwards, the animal -holds them in front of him, with the fingers opened, to take stock of -things encountered on the way. When he wants to stab, the claws catch -the adversary and hold him motionless, while the sting operates above -the assailant’s back. Lastly, when he has to nibble a morsel for any -length of time, they serve as hands and keep the prey within reach of -the mouth. They are never used for walking, for support or for the work -of excavation. - -That falls to the real legs. These are abruptly truncated and end in a -group of little curved, moveable claws, faced by a short, fine point, -which, in a manner of speaking, serves as a thumb. The stump is -finished off with rough bristles. The whole constitutes an excellent -grapnel, which explains the Scorpion’s capacity for roaming round the -trellis-work of my wire bells, for standing there very long in a -reversed position and, lastly, for clambering up a vertical wall, -notwithstanding his clumsiness and awkwardness. - -Below, immediately after the legs, are the combs, strange organs, an -exclusive attribute of the Scorpions. They owe their name to their -structure, consisting of a long row of scales arranged close together -in the manner of the teeth of our ordinary combs. The anatomists are -inclined to ascribe to these the functions of a gearing-apparatus -capable of keeping the couple connected at the moment of pairing. - -In order to observe their domestic manners, I lodge my captives in a -large glass volery, with big potsherds to serve them as a refuge. There -are a couple of dozen Scorpions, all told. In April, when the Swallow -returns to us and the Cuckoo sounds his first note, a revolution takes -place among my hitherto peaceable Scorpions. Several of them, in the -colonies which I have established in the open air, in my garden, go -wandering about at night and do not return to their homes. A more -serious matter: often, under the same piece of crockery, are two -Scorpions, of whom one is in the act of devouring the other. Is it a -matter of burglary among insects of the same order, who, falling into -vagabond ways at the commencement of the fine weather, thoughtlessly -enter their neighbours’ houses and there meet with their undoing, -unless they be the stronger? One would almost think it, so calmly is -the intruder eaten up, for days at a time and by small mouthfuls, even -as an ordinary prey would be. - -Now here is something to give us a hint. The devoured are invariably of -middling size. Their lighter shade of colouring, their less protuberant -bellies mark them as males, always males. The others, larger, more -paunchy, and a little darker in shade, do not end in this unhappy -fashion. So it is probably not a case of brawls between neighbours who, -jealous of their solitude, soon settle the doom of any visitor and eat -him afterwards, a radical means of putting a stop to further -indiscretions; it is rather a question of nuptial rites tragically -performed by the matron after pairing. - -Spring returns once more. I have prepared the large glass cage in -advance and peopled it with five-and-twenty inhabitants, each with his -bit of earthenware. From mid-April onwards, every evening, towards -night-fall, between seven and nine o’clock, great animation reigns -within this crystal palace. That which seemed deserted by day now -becomes a joyous scene. As soon as supper is finished, the whole -household runs out to look at it. A lantern hung outside the panes -allows us to follow events. - -It is our diversion after the worries of the day; it is our play-house. -In this theatre of simple folk, the performances are so interesting -that, the moment the lantern is lighted, we all, old and young, come -and take our seats in the pit: all, including even Tom, the house-dog. -Tom, it is true, indifferent to Scorpion affairs, like the genuine -philosopher that he is, lies down at our feet and dozes, but only with -one eye, keeping the other always open on his friends, the children. - -Let me try to give the reader an idea of what happens. A numerous -assembly soon gathers near the glass panes in the zone discreetly lit -by the lantern. Every elsewhere, here, there, single Scorpions walk -about and, attracted by the light, leave the shade and hasten to the -illuminated festival. The very moths betray no greater readiness to -flutter to the rays of our lamps. The newcomers mingle with the crowd, -while others, tired with their diversions, withdraw into the shade, -snatch a few moments’ rest and then impetuously return upon the scene. - -These hideous devotees of gaiety provide a dance not wholly -unattractive. Some come from afar: gravely they emerge from out the -darkness; then, suddenly, with a rush as swift and easy as a slide, -they join the crowd, in the light. Their agility reminds one of mice -scudding with short steps. They seek one another and fly precipitately -as soon as they touch, as though they had mutually burnt their fingers. -Others, after tumbling about a little with their play-fellows, make off -hurriedly, wildly. They take fresh courage in the dark and return. - -At times, there is a brisk tumult: a confused mass of swarming legs, -snapping claws, tails curving and clashing, threatening or fondling, it -is hard to say which. In the affray, under favourable conditions, -double specks light up and gleam like carbuncles. One would take them -for eyes that shoot flashing glances; in reality they are two polished, -reflecting facets, which occupy the front of the head. All, large and -small alike, take part in the brawl; it might be a battle to the death, -a general massacre; and it is just a wanton frolic. Even so do kittens -bemaul each other. Soon, the group disperses; all make off from all -sorts of places, without a scratch, without a sprain. - -Behold the fugitives collecting once more before the lantern. They pass -and pass again; they come and go, often meet front to front. He who is -in the greatest hurry walks over the back of the other, who lets him -have his way without any protest but a movement of the crupper. It is -no time for blows: at most, two Scorpions meeting will exchange a cuff, -that is to say, a rap of the caudal staff. In their society, this -friendly thump, in which the point of the sting plays no part, is a -sort of a fisticuff in frequent use. - -There are better things than mingled legs and brandished tails: there -are sometimes poses of the highest originality. Front to front and -claws drawn back, two wrestlers assume the acrobat’s “straight bend,” -that is to say, resting only on the fore-quarters, they raise the whole -back of the body, so much so that the chest displays the four little -lung-sacs uncovered. Then the tails, held vertically erect in a -straight line, exchange mutual rubs, glide one over the other, while -their extremities are hooked together and repeatedly fastened and -unfastened. Suddenly, the friendly pyramid falls to pieces and each -runs off hurriedly, without ceremony. - -What were those two wrestlers trying to do, in their eccentric posture? -Was it a set-to between two rivals? It would seem not, so peaceful is -the encounter. My subsequent observations were to tell me that this was -the mutual teasing of a betrothed couple. To declare his flame, the -Scorpion does the straight bend. - -To continue as I have begun and give a homogeneous picture of the -thousand tiny particulars gathered day by day would have its -advantages: the story would be sooner told; but, at the same time, -deprived of its details, which vary greatly between one observation and -the next and are difficult to group, it would be less interesting. -Nothing must be neglected in the relation of manners so strange and as -yet so little known. At the risk of repeating one’s self here and -there, it is preferable to adhere to chronological order and to tell -the story by fragments, as one’s observations reveal fresh facts. Order -will emerge from this disorder; for each of the more remarkable -evenings supplies some feature that corroborates and completes those -which go before. I will therefore continue my narration in the form of -a diary. - -25 April, 1904.—Hullo! What is this, which I have not yet seen? My -eyes, ever on the watch, look upon the affair for the first time. Two -Scorpions face each other, with claws outstretched and fingers clasped. -It is a question of a friendly grasp of the hand and not the prelude of -a battle, for the two partners behave to each other in the most -peaceful way. There is one of either sex. One is paunchy and browner -than the other: that is the female; the other is comparatively slim and -pale: that is the male. With their tails prettily curled, the couple -stroll with measured steps along the pane. The male is ahead and walks -backwards, without jolt or jerk, without any resistance to overcome. -The female follows obediently, clasped by her finger-tips and face to -face with her leader. - -The stroll has halts that alter nothing in the manner of the tie; it is -resumed, now here, now there, from end to end of the enclosure. Nothing -shows the object which the strollers have in view. They loiter, they -dawdle, they most certainly exchange ogling glances. Even so, in my -village, on Sundays, after vespers, do the youth of both sexes saunter -along the hedges, every Jack with his Jill. - -Often they tack about. It is always the male who decides which fresh -direction the pair shall take. Without releasing her hands, he turns -gracefully to the left or right about and places himself side by side -with his companion. Then, for a moment, with his tail laid flat, he -strokes her spine. The other stands motionless, impassive. - -For over an hour, without tiring, I watch these interminable comings -and goings. A part of the household lends me its eyes in the presence -of the strange sight which no one in the world has yet seen, at least -with a vision capable of observing. In spite of the lateness of the -hour, so upsetting to our habits, our attention is concentrated and no -essential thing escapes us. - -At last, at about ten o’clock, an event happens. The male has lit upon -a potsherd the shelter of which seems to suit him. He releases his -companion with one hand, with one alone, and, continuing to hold her -with the other, he scratches with his legs and sweeps with his tail. A -grotto opens. He enters and, slowly, without violence, drags the -patient Scorpioness after him. Soon, both have disappeared. A plug of -sand closes the dwelling. The couple are at home. - -To disturb them would be a blunder: I should be interfering too soon, -at an inopportune moment, if I tried at once to see what was happening -below. The preliminary stages may last for the best part of the night; -and it does not do for me, who have turned eighty, to sit up so late. I -feel my legs giving way; and my eyes seem full of sand. Let us go to -sleep. - -All night long, I dream of Scorpions. They crawl under my bed-clothes, -they pass over my face; and I am not particularly excited, so many -curious things do I see in my imagination. The next morning, at -day-break, I raise the stoneware. The female is alone. Of the male -there is no trace, either in the home or in the neighbourhood. First -disappointment, to be followed by many others. - -10 May.—It is nearly seven o’clock in the evening; the sky is overcast -with signs of an approaching shower. Under one of the potsherds is a -motionless couple, face to face, with linked fingers. Cautiously I -raise the potsherd and leave the occupants uncovered, so as to study -the results of the interview at my ease. The darkness of the night -falls and nothing, it seems to me, will disturb the calm of the home -deprived of its roof. A brisk shower compels me to retire. They, under -the lid of the cage, have no need to take shelter against the rain. -What will they do, left to their business as they are, but deprived of -a canopy to their alcove? - -An hour later, the rain ceases and I return to my Scorpions. They are -gone. They have taken up their abode under a neighbouring potsherd. -Still with their fingers linked, the female is outside and the male -indoors, preparing the home. At intervals of ten minutes, the members -of my family relieve one another, so as not to lose the exact moment of -the pairing, which appears to me to be imminent. Useless cares: at -eight o’clock, it being now quite dark, the couple, dissatisfied with -the spot, set out on a fresh ramble, hand in hand, and go in search -elsewhere. The male, walking backwards, leads the march, chooses the -dwelling as he pleases; the female follows with docility. It is an -exact repetition of what I saw on the 25th of April. At last, a tile is -found to suit them. The male goes in first, but, this time, without -letting go of his companion for a moment, with one hand or the other. -The nuptial chamber is prepared with a few sweeps of the tail. Gently -drawn towards him, the Scorpioness enters in the wake of her guide. - -I visit them a couple of hours later, thinking that I have given them -time enough to finish their preparations. I raise the potsherd. They -are there in the same posture, face to face and hand in hand. I shall -see no more to-day. - -The next day, nothing new either. One in front of the other, -meditatively, without stirring a limb, the gossips, holding each other -by the finger-tips, continue their endless interview under the tile. In -the evening, at sunset, after sitting linked together for -four-and-twenty hours, the couple separate. He goes away from the tile, -she remains; and matters have not advanced by an inch. - -This observation gives us two facts to remember. After the stroll to -celebrate the betrothal, the couple need the mystery and quiet of a -shelter. Never would the nuptial conclusion take place in the open air, -amid the bustling crowd, in sight of all. Remove the roof of the house, -by night or day, with all possible discretion; and the husband and -wife, who seem absorbed in meditation, march off in search of another -spot. Also, the stay under the cover of a stone is a long one: we have -just seen it spun out to twenty-four hours and even then without a -decisive result. - -12 May.—What will this evening’s watch teach us? The weather is calm -and hot, favourable to nocturnal pastimes. A couple has formed: I did -not witness the start. This time the male is greatly inferior in size -to his corpulent mate. Nevertheless, the skinny wight performs his duty -gallantly. Walking backwards, according to rule, with his tail rolled -trumpetwise, he marches the fat Scorpioness around the glass ramparts. -After one circuit follows another, sometimes in the same, sometimes in -the opposite direction. - -Stops are frequent. Then the two foreheads touch, bend a little to left -and right, as if there were whispers exchanged in each other’s ears. -The little fore-legs flutter in fevered caresses. What are they saying -to each other? How shall we translate their silent epithalamium into -words? - -The whole household turns out to see this curious group, which our -presence in no way disturbs. The pair are pronounced to be “pretty”; -and the expression is not exaggerated. Semi-translucent and shining in -the light of the lantern, they seem carved out of a block of yellow -amber. Their arms outstretched, their tails rolled into graceful -volutes, they wander on with a slow movement and with measured tread. - -Nothing puts them out. Should some vagabond, taking the evening air and -keeping to the wall like themselves, meet them on their way, he stands -aside—for he understands these delicate matters—and leaves them a free -passage. Lastly, the shelter of a tile receives the strolling pair, the -male entering first and backwards: that goes without saying. It is nine -o’clock. - -The idyll of the evening is followed, during the night, by a hideous -tragedy. Next morning, we find the Scorpioness under the potsherd of -the previous day. The little male is by her side, but slain and more or -less devoured. He lacks the head, a claw, a pair of legs. I place the -corpse in the open, on the threshold of the home. All day long, the -recluse does not touch it. When night returns, she goes out and, -meeting the defunct on her passage, carries him off to a distance to -give him a decent funeral, that is to finish eating him. - -This act of cannibalism agrees with what the open-air colony showed me -last year. From time to time, I would find, under the stones, a -pot-bellied female making a comfortable ritual meal off her companion -of the night. I suspected that the male, if he did not break loose in -time, once his functions were fulfilled, was devoured, wholly or -partly, according to the matron’s appetite. I now have the certain -proof before my eyes. Yesterday, I saw the couple enter their home -after the usual preliminary, the stroll; and, this morning, under the -same tile, at the moment of my visit, the bride is consuming her mate. - -We are entitled to believe that the poor wretch has attained his ends. -Were he still necessary to the brood, he would not yet be eaten. The -actual couple have therefore been quick about the business, whereas I -see others fail to finish after provocations and contemplations -exceeding in duration the time which it takes the hour-hand to go twice -round the clock. Circumstances which it is impossible to state with -precision—the condition of the atmosphere, perhaps, the electric -tension, the temperature, the individual ardour of the couple—to a -large extent accelerate or delay the finale of the pairing; and this is -what constitutes the serious difficulty for the observer anxious to -seize the exact moment whereat the as yet uncertain function of the -combs might be revealed. - -14 May.—It is certainly not hunger that sets my animals in commotion -night after night. The quest of food has nothing to say to their -evening rounds. I have served up a varied bill of fare to the busy -crowd, a fare chosen from that which they appear to like best. It -includes tender morsels in the shape of young Crickets; small Locusts, -fleshier and in better condition than the Acridians; Moths minus their -wings. In a more advanced season, I add Dragon-flies, a -highly-appreciated dish, as is proved by their equivalent, the -full-grown Ant-lion, of whom I often find the scraps, the wings, in the -Scorpions’ cave. - -This luxurious game leaves them indifferent; none of them pays -attention to it. Amid the hubbub, the Crickets hop, the Moths beat the -ground with the stumps of their wings, the Dragon-flies quiver; and the -passers-by take no notice. They tread them underfoot, they topple them -over, they push them away with a stroke of the tail; in short, they -absolutely refuse to look at them. They have other business in hand. - -Almost all of them move along the glass wall. Some of them obstinately -attempt to scale it: they hoist themselves on their tails, fall down, -try again elsewhere. With their outstretched fists they knock against -the pane; they want to get away at all costs. And yet the grounds are -large enough, there is room for all; the walks lend themselves to long -strolls. No matter: they want to roam afar. If they were free, they -would disperse in every direction. Last year, at the same time, the -colonists of the enclosure left the village and I never saw them again. - -The spring pairing-season enjoins journeys upon them. The shy hermits -of yesterday now leave their cells and go on love’s pilgrimage; -heedless of food, they set out in quest of their kind. Among the stones -of their territory there must be choice spots at which meetings take -place, at which assemblies are held. If I were not afraid of breaking -my legs, at night, over the rocky obstacles of their hills, I should -love to assist at their matrimonial festivals, amid the delights of -liberty. What do they do up there, on their bare slopes? Much the same, -apparently, as in the glass enclosure. Having made their choice of a -bride, they take her about, for a long stretch of time, hand in hand, -through the tufts of lavender. If they miss the attractions of my -lantern, they have the moon, that incomparable lamp, to light them. - -20 May.—The sight of the first invitation to a stroll is not an event -upon which we can count every evening. Several emerge from under their -stones already linked in couples. In this concatenation of clasped -fingers, they have passed the whole day, motionless, one in front of -the other and meditating. When night comes, they resume, without -separating for a moment, the walk around the glass begun on the evening -before, or even earlier. No one knows when or how the junction was -effected. Others meet unawares in sequestered passages difficult of -inspection. By the time that I see them, it is too late: the equipage -is on the way. - -To-day, chance favours me. The acquaintance is made before my eyes, in -the full light of the lantern. A frisky, sprightly male, in his hurried -rush through the crowd, suddenly finds himself face to face with a -passer-by who takes his fancy. She does not say no; and things go -quickly. - -The foreheads touch, the claws work; the tails swing with a wide -movement: they stand up vertically, hook together at the tips and -softly stroke each other with a slow caress. The two animals perform -the acrobat’s “straight bend,” in the manner already described. Soon, -the raised bodies collapse; fingers are clasped and the couple starts -on its stroll without more ado. The pyramidal pose, therefore, is -really the prelude to the harnessing. The pose, it is true, is not rare -between two individuals of the same sex who meet; but it is then less -correct and, above all, less marked by ceremony. At such times, we find -movements of impatience, instead of friendly excitations; the tails -strike in lieu of caressing each other. - -Let us watch the male, who hurries away backwards, very proud of his -conquest. Other females are met, who form an audience and look on -inquisitively, perhaps enviously. One of them flings herself upon the -ravished bride, embraces her with her legs and makes an effort to stop -the equipage. The male exhausts himself in attempts to overcome this -resistance; in vain he shakes, in vain he pulls: the thing won’t go. -Undistressed by the accident, he throws up the game. A neighbour is -there, close by. Cutting parley short, this time without any further -declaration, he takes her hands and invites her to a stroll. She -protests, releases herself and runs away. - -From among the group of onlookers, a second is solicited, in the same -free and easy manner. She accepts, but there is nothing to tell us that -she will not escape from her seducer on the way. But what does the -coxcomb care? There are more where she came from! And what does he -want, when all is said? The first-comer! - -This first-comer he ends by finding, for here he is, leading his -conquest by the hand. He passes into the belt of light. Exerting all -his strength, he makes jerky movements of drawing towards him, if the -other refuse to come, but behaves with gentleness, when he obtains a -docile obedience. Pauses, sometimes rather prolonged, are frequent. - -Then the male indulges in curious exercises. Bringing his claws, or let -us say, his arms towards him and then again stretching them straight -out, he compels the female to play a similar alternate game. The two of -them form a system of jointed rods, or lazy-tongs, opening and closing -their quadrilateral turn and turn about. After this gymnastic drill, -the mechanism contracts and remains stationary. - -The foreheads now touch; the two mouths come together with tender -effusions. The word “kisses” comes to one’s mind to express these -caresses. It is not applicable; for head, face, lips, cheeks, all are -missing. The animal, clipped as though with the pruning shears, has not -even a muzzle. Where we look for a face we are confronted with a dead -wall of hideous jaws. - -And to the Scorpion this represents the supremely beautiful! With his -fore-legs, more delicate, more agile than the others, he pats the -horrible mask, which in his eyes is an exquisite little face; -voluptuously he gnaws and tickles with his lower jaws the equally -hideous mouth opposite. It is all superb in its tenderness and -simplicity. The Dove is said to have invented the kiss. But I know that -he had a fore-runner in the Scorpion. - -Dulcinea lets her admirer have his way and remains passive, not without -a secret longing to slip off. But how is she to set about it? It is -quite easy. The Scorpioness makes a cudgel of her tail and brings it -down with a bang upon the wrists of her too-ardent wooer, who there and -then lets go. The match is broken off, for the time being. To-morrow, -the sulking-fit will be over and things will resume their course. - -25 May.—This blow of the cudgel teaches us that the docile companion -revealed by the first observations is capable of whims, of obstinate -refusals, of sudden divorces. Let us give an example. - -This evening, he and she, a seemly couple, are out for a stroll. A tile -is found and appears to suit. Letting go with one claw, so as to have -some freedom of action, the male works with his legs and tail to clear -the entrance. He goes in. By degrees, as the dwelling is dug out, the -female follows him, meekly and gently, so one would think. - -Soon, the place and time perhaps not suiting her, she reappears and -half-emerges, backwards. She struggles against her abductor, who, on -his side, pulls her to him, without, as yet, showing himself. A lively -contest ensues, one making every effort outside the cabin, the other -inside. They go backwards and forwards by turns; and success is -undecided. At last, with a sudden exertion, the Scorpioness drags her -companion out. - -The unbroken team is in the open; the walk is resumed. For a good hour, -they veer to one side along the pane, veer back to the other and then -return to the tile of just now, to the exact same tile. As the way is -already open, the male enters without delay and pulls like mad. -Outside, the Scorpioness resists. Stiffening her legs, which plough the -soil, and buttressing her tail against the arch of the tile, she -refuses to go in. I like this resistance. What would the pairing be -without the playful toying of the preludes? - -Under the stone, however, the ravisher insists and contrives to such -good purpose that the rebel obeys. She enters. It has just struck ten. -If I have to sit up for the rest of the night, I will wait for the -result; I shall turn the potsherd at the fitting moment to catch a -glimpse of what is happening underneath. Good opportunities are rare: -let us make the most of this one. What shall I see? - -Nothing at all. In half an hour or less, the refractory one frees -herself, issues from the shelter and flees. The other at once runs up -from the back of the cabin, stops on the threshold and looks out. His -beauty has escaped him. He has been jilted. Sheepishly, he returns -indoors. I follow his example. - -June sets in. For fear of a disturbance caused by too brilliant an -illumination, I have hitherto kept the lantern hung outside, at some -distance from the pane. The insufficient light does not allow me to -observe certain details as to the manner in which the couple are linked -when strolling. Do they both play an active part in the scheme of the -clasped hands? Are their fingers interlinked alternately? Or does only -one of the pair act; and, if so, which? Let us ascertain exactly; the -thing is not without importance. - -I place the lantern inside, in the centre of the cage. There is a good -light everywhere. Far from being scared, the Scorpions gain in -gladness. They hasten up around the beacon; some even try to climb it, -so as to be nearer the flame. They succeed in doing so by means of the -frames containing the glass squares. They hang on to the edges of the -tin strips and stubbornly, heedless of slipping, end by reaching the -top. There, motionless, lying partly on the glass, partly on the -support of the metal casing, they gaze the whole evening long, -fascinated by the glory of the wick. They remind me of the Great -Peacock Moths that used to hang in ecstasy under the reflector of my -lamp. - -At the foot of the beacon, in the full light, a couple loses no time in -doing the straight bend. The two fence prettily with their tails and -then go a-strolling. The male alone acts. With the two fingers of each -claw, he has seized the two fingers of the corresponding claw of the -Scorpioness in a bunch. He alone exerts himself and squeezes; he alone -is at liberty to break the team when he likes: he has but to open his -pincers. The female cannot do so; she is a prisoner, handcuffed by her -seducer. - -In rather infrequent cases, one can see even finer things. I have -caught the Scorpion dragging his sweetheart by the two fore-arms; I -have seen him pull her by one leg and by the tail. She had resisted the -advances of the outstretched hand; and the bully, forgetful of all -reserve, had thrown her on her side and clawed hold of her at random. -The thing is quite clear: we have to do with a regular rape, abduction -with violence. Even so did Romulus’ youths rape the Sabine women. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE FAMILY - - -Book-knowledge is a poor resource in the problems of life; assiduous -converse with facts is preferable here to the best-stocked library. In -many cases, ignorance is a good thing: the mind retains its freedom of -investigation and does not stray along roads that lead nowhither, -suggested by one’s reading. I have experienced this once again. - -An anatomical monograph—the work, indeed, of a master—had told me that -the Languedocian Scorpion is big with young in September. Oh, how much -better should I have done not to consult it! The thing happens much -earlier, at least in my part of the country; and, as the rearing does -not last long, I should have seen nothing, had I tarried for September. -A third year of observation, tiresome to wait for, would have become -necessary, in order at last to witness a sight which I foresaw to be of -the highest interest. But for exceptional circumstances, I should have -allowed the fleeting opportunity to pass, lost a year and perhaps even -abandoned the subject. - -Yes, ignorance can have its advantages; the new is found far from the -beaten track. One of our most illustrious masters, little suspecting -the lesson he was giving me, taught me that some time since. One fine -day, Pasteur rang unexpectedly at my front-door: the same who was soon -to acquire such world-wide celebrity. His name was familiar to me. I -had read the scholar’s fine work on the dissymmetry of tartaric acid; I -had followed with the greatest interest his researches on the -generation of Infusoria. - -Each period has its scientific crotchet: to-day, we have transformism; -at that time, they had spontaneous generation. With his balloons made -sterile or fecund at will, with his experiments so magnificent in their -severity and simplicity, Pasteur gave the death-blow to the lunacy -which pretended to see life springing from a chemical conflict in the -seat of putrefaction. - -In the midst of this contest so victoriously elucidated, I welcomed my -distinguished visitor as best I could. The savant came to me first of -all for certain particulars. I owed this signal honour to my standing -as his colleague in physics and chemistry. Oh, such a poor, obscure -colleague! - -Pasteur’s tour through the Avignon region had sericiculture for its -object. For some years, the silk-worm nurseries had been in confusion, -ravaged by unknown plagues. The worms, for no appreciable reason, were -falling into a putrid deliquescence, hardening, so to speak, into -plaster sugar-plums. The downcast peasant saw one of his chief crops -disappearing; after much care and trouble, he had to fling his -nurseries on the dung-heap. - -A few words were exchanged on the prevailing blight; and then, without -further preamble, my visitor said: - -“I should like to see some cocoons. I have never seen any; I know them -only by name. Could you get me some?” - -“Nothing easier. My landlord happens to sell cocoons; and he lives in -the next house. If you will wait a moment, I will bring you what you -want.” - -Four steps took me to my neighbour’s, where I crammed my pockets with -cocoons. I came back and handed them to the savant. He took one, turned -and turned it between his fingers; he examined it curiously, as one -would a strange object from the other end of the world. He put it to -his ear and shook it: - -“Why, it makes a noise!” he said, quite surprised. “There’s something -inside!” - -“Of course there is.” - -“What is it?” - -“The chrysalis.” - -“How do you mean, the chrysalis?” - -“I mean the sort of mummy into which the caterpillar changes before -becoming a moth.” - -“And has every cocoon one of those things inside it?” - -“Obviously. It is to protect the chrysalis that the caterpillar spins.” - -“Really!” - -And, without more words, the cocoons passed into the pocket of the -savant, who was to instruct himself at his leisure touching that great -novelty, the chrysalis. I was struck by this magnificent assurance. -Pasteur had come to regenerate the silk-worm, while knowing nothing -about caterpillars, cocoons, chrysalises or metamorphoses. The ancient -gymnasts came naked to the fight. The talented combatant of the plague -of our silk-worm nurseries hastened to the battle likewise naked, that -is to say, destitute of the simplest notions about the insect which he -was to deliver from danger. I was staggered; nay, more, I was -wonderstruck. - -I was not so much amazed by what followed. Pasteur was occupied at the -time with another question, that of the improvement of wine by heating. -Suddenly changing the conversation: - -“Show me your cellar,” he said. - -I! I show my cellar, my private cellar, poor I, who, in those days, -with my pitiful teacher’s salary, could not indulge in the luxury of a -little wine and brewed myself a sort of small cider by setting a -handful of moist sugar and some apples already steeped in spoilt cider -to ferment in a cask! My cellar! Show my cellar! Why not my barrels, my -cobwebbed bottles, each labelled with its age and vintage! My cellar! - -Full of confusion, I avoided the request and tried to turn the -conversation. But he persisted: - -“Show me your cellar, please.” - -There was no resisting such firmness. I pointed with my finger to a -corner in the kitchen where stood a chair with no seat to it; and, on -that chair, a demi-john containing two or three gallons: - -“That’s my cellar, sir.” - -“Is that your cellar?” - -“I have no other.” - -“Is that all?” - -“Yes, that is all, alas!” - -“Really!” - -Not a word more; nothing further from the savant. Pasteur, that was -evident, had never tasted the highly-spiced dish which the vulgar call -la vache enragée. Though my cellar—the dilapidated chair and the more -than half-empty demi-john—said nothing about the fermentation to be -combated by heating, it spoke eloquently of another thing which my -illustrious visitor seemed not to understand. A microbe escaped from it -and a very terrible microbe: that of ill-fortune strangling good-will. - -In spite of the unlucky introduction of the cellar, I remain none the -less struck by his serene assurance. He knows nothing of the -transformation of insects; he has just seen a cocoon for the first time -and learnt that there is something inside that cocoon, the rough draft -of the moth that shall be; he is ignorant of what is known to the -meanest school-boy of our southern parts; and this novice, whose -artless questions surprise me so greatly, is about to revolutionize the -hygiene of the silk-worm nurseries. In the same way, he will -revolutionize medicine and general hygiene. - -His weapon is thought, heedless of details and soaring over the whole -question. What cares he for metamorphoses, larvæ, nymphæ, cocoons, -pupæ, chrysalises and the thousand and one little secrets of -entomology! For the purposes of his problem, perhaps, it is just as -well to be ignorant of all that. Ideas retain their independence and -their daring flight more easily; movements are freer, when released -from the leading-strings of the known. - -Encouraged by the magnificent example of the cocoons rattling in -Pasteur’s astonished ears, I have made it a rule to adopt the method of -ignorance in my investigations into instincts. I read very little. -Instead of turning the pages of books, an expensive proceeding quite -beyond my means, instead of consulting other people, I persist in -obstinately interviewing my subject until I succeed in making him -speak. I know nothing. So much the better: my queries will be all the -freer, now in this direction, now in the opposite, according to the -lights obtained. And if, by chance, I do open a book, I take care to -leave a pigeon-hole in my mind wide open to doubt; for the soil which I -am clearing bristles with weeds and brambles. - -For lack of taking this precaution, I very nearly lost a year. Relying -on what I had read, I did not look for the family of the Languedocian -Scorpion until September; and I obtained it quite unexpectedly in July. -This difference between the real and the anticipated date I ascribe to -the disparity of the climate: I make my observations in Provence and my -informant, Léon Dufour, made his in Spain. Notwithstanding the master’s -high authority, I ought to have been on my guard. I was not; and I -should have lost the opportunity if, as luck would have it, the Common -Black Scorpion had not taught me. Ah, how right was Pasteur not to know -the chrysalis! - -The Common Scorpion, smaller and much less active than the other, was -brought up, for purposes of comparison, in humble glass jars that stood -on the table in my study. The modest apparatus did not take up much -room and were easy to examine; and I made a point of visiting them -daily. Every morning, before sitting down to blacken a few pages of my -diary with prose, I invariably lifted the piece of cardboard which I -used to shelter my boarders and enquired into the happenings of the -night. These daily visits were not so feasible in the large glass cage, -whose numerous dwellings required a general over-throw, if they were to -be examined one by one and then methodically replaced in condition as -discovered. With my jars of Black Scorpions, the inspection was the -matter of a moment. - -It was well for me that I always had this auxiliary establishment -before my eyes. On the 22nd of July, at six o’clock in the morning, -raising the cardboard screen, I found the mother beneath it, with her -little ones grouped on her chine like a sort of white mantlet. I -experienced one of those seconds of sweet contentment which, at -intervals, reward the long-suffering observer. For the first time, I -had before my eyes the fine spectacle of the Scorpioness clad in her -young. The delivery was quite recent; it must have taken place during -the night; for, on the previous evening, the mother was bare. - -Further successes awaited me: on the next day, a second mother is -whitened with her brood; the day after that, two others at a time are -in the same condition. That makes four. It is more than my ambition -hoped for. With four families of Scorpions and a few quiet days before -me, I can find sweets in life. - -All the more so as fortune loads me with her favours. Ever since the -first discovery in the jars, I have been thinking of the glass cage and -asking myself whether the Languedocian Scorpion might not be as -precocious as her black sister. Let us go quick and see. - -I turn over the twenty-five tiles. A glorious success! I feel one of -those hot waves of enthusiasm with which I was familiar at twenty rush -through my old veins. Under three of the lot of tiles, I find a mother -burdened with her family. One has little ones already shooting up, -about a week old, as the sequel of my observations informed me; the two -others have borne their children recently, in the course of last night, -as is proved by certain remnants jealously guarded under the paunch. We -shall see presently what those remnants represent. - -July runs to an end, August and September pass and nothing more occurs -to swell my collection. The period of the family, therefore, for both -Scorpions is the second fortnight in July. From that time onward, -everything is finished. And yet, among my guests in the glass cage, -there remain females as big and fat as those from whom I have obtained -an offspring. I reckoned on these too for an increase in the -population; all the appearances authorized me to do so. Winter comes -and none of them has answered my expectations. The business, which -seemed close at hand, has been put off to next year: a fresh proof of -long pregnancy, very singular in the case of an animal of an inferior -order. - -I transfer each mother and her product, separately, into medium-sized -receptacles, which facilitate the niceties of the observation. At the -early hour of my visit, those brought to bed during the night have -still a part of the brood sheltered under their belly. Pushing the -mother aside with a straw, I discover, amid the heap of young not yet -hoisted on the maternal back, objects that utterly upset all that the -books have taught me on this subject. The Scorpions, they say, are -viviparous. The learned expression lacks exactitude: the young do not -see the light directly with the formation which we know of. - -And this must be so. How would you have the outstretched claws, the -sprawling legs, the shrivelled tails go through the maternal passages? -The cumbrous little animal could never pass through the narrow outlets. -It must needs come into the world packed up and sparing of space. - -The remnants found under the mothers, in fact, show me eggs, real eggs, -similar, or very nearly, to those which anatomy extracts from the -ovaries at an advanced stage of pregnancy. The little animal, -economically compressed to the dimensions of a grain of rice, has its -tail laid along its belly, its claws flattened against its chest, its -legs pressed to its sides, so that the small, easy-gliding, oval lump -leaves not the smallest protuberance. On the forehead, dots of an -intense black mark the eyes. The tiny insect floats in a drop of -transparent moisture, which is for the moment its world, its -atmosphere, contained by a pellicle of exquisite delicacy. - -These objects are really eggs. There were thirty or forty of them, at -first, in the Languedocian Scorpion’s litter; not quite so many in the -Black Scorpion’s. Interfering too late in the nocturnal lying-in, I am -present at the finish. The little that remains, however, is sufficient -to convince me. The Scorpion is in reality oviparous; only her eggs -hatch very speedily and the liberation of the young follows very soon -after the laying. - -Now how does this liberation take place? I enjoy the remarkable -privilege of witnessing it. I see the mother with the point of her -mandibles delicately seizing, lacerating, tearing off and lastly -swallowing the membrane of the egg. She strips her new-born offspring -with the fastidious care and fondness of the sheep and the cat when -eating the fetal wrappers. Not a scratch on that scarce-formed flesh, -not a strain, in spite of the clumsiness of the tool employed. - -I cannot get over my surprise: the Scorpion has initiated the living -into acts of maternity bordering on our own. In the distant days of the -coal vegetation, when the first Scorpion appeared, the gentle passions -of childbirth were already preparing. The egg, the equivalent of the -long-sleeping seed, the egg, as already possessed by the reptile and -the fish and later to be possessed by the bird and almost the whole -body of insects, was the contemporary of an infinitely more delicate -organism which ushered in the viviparousness of the higher animals. The -incubation of the germ did not take place outside, in the heart of the -threatening conflict of things; it was accomplished in the mother’s -womb. - -The progressive movements of life know no gradual stages, from fair to -good, from good to excellent; they proceed by leaps and bounds, in some -cases advancing, in some recoiling. The ocean has its ebb and flow. -Life, that other ocean, more unfathomable than the ocean of the waters, -has its ebb and flow likewise. Will it have any others? Who can say -that it will? Who can say that it will not? - -If the sheep were not to assist by swallowing the wrappers after -picking them up with her lips, never would the lamb succeed in -extricating itself from its swaddling-clothes. In the same way, the -little Scorpion calls for its mother’s aid. I see some that, caught in -stickiness, move about helplessly in the half-torn ovarian sac and are -unable to free themselves. It wants a touch of the mother’s teeth to -complete the deliverance. It is doubtful even whether the young insect -contributes to effect the laceration. Its weakness is of no avail -against that other weakness, the natal envelope, though this be as -slender as the inner integument of an onion-skin. - -The young chick has a temporary callosity at the end of its beak, which -it uses to peck, to break the shell. The young Scorpion, condensed to -the dimensions of a grain of rice to economize space, waits inertly for -help from without. The mother has to do everything. She works with such -a will that the accessories of childbirth disappear altogether, even -the few sterile eggs being swept away with the others in the general -flow. Not a remnant lingers behind of the now useless tatters; -everything has returned to the mother’s stomach; and the spot of ground -that has received the laying is swept absolutely clear. - -So here we have the young nicely wiped, clean and free. They are white. -Their length, from the forehead to the tip of the tail, measures nine -millimetres [36] in the Languedocian Scorpion and four [37] in the -Black. As the liberating toilet is completed, they climb, first one and -then the other, on the maternal spine, hoisting themselves, without -excessive haste, along the claws, which the Scorpion keeps flat on the -ground, in order to facilitate the ascent. Close-grouped one against -the other, entangled at random, they form a continuous cloth on the -mother’s back. With the aid of their little claws, they are pretty -firmly settled. One finds some difficulty in sweeping them away with -the point of a hair pencil without more or less hurting the feeble -creatures. In this state, neither steed nor burden budges: it is the -fit moment for experimenting. - -The Scorpion, clad in her young assembled to form a white muslin -mantlet, is a spectacle worthy of attention. She remains motionless, -with her tail curled on high. If I bring a rush of straw too near the -family, she at once lifts her two claws in an angry attitude, rarely -adopted in her own defence. The two fists are raised in a sparring -posture, the nippers open wide, ready to thrust and parry. The tail is -seldom brandished: to loosen it suddenly would give a shock to the -spine and perhaps make a part of the burden fall to the ground. The -bold, sudden, imposing menace of the fists suffices. - -My curiosity takes no notice of it. I push off one of the little ones -and place it facing its mother, at a finger’s breadth away. The mother -does not seem to trouble about the accident: motionless she was, -motionless she remains. Why excite herself about that slip? The fallen -child will be quite able to manage for itself. It gesticulates, it -moves about; and then, finding one of the maternal claws within its -reach, it clambers up pretty nimbly and joins the crowd of its -brothers. It resumes its seat in the saddle, but without, by a long -way, displaying the agility of the Lycosa’s sons, who are expert -riders, versed in the art of vaulting on horseback. - -The test is repeated on a larger scale. This time, I sweep a part of -the load to the ground; the little ones are scattered, to no very great -distance. There is a somewhat prolonged moment of hesitation. While the -brats wander about, without quite knowing where to go, the mother at -last becomes alarmed at the state of things. With her two arms—I am -speaking of the chelæ—with her two arms joined in a semi-circle, she -rakes and gathers the sand so as to bring the strayers to her. This is -done awkwardly, clumsily, with no precautions against accidental -crushing. The Hen, with a soft clucking call, makes the wandering -chicks return to the pale; the Scorpion collects her family with a -sweep of the rake. All are safe and sound nevertheless. As soon as they -come in contact with the mother, they climb up and form themselves -again into a dorsal group. - -Strangers are admitted to this group, as well as the legitimate -offspring. If, with the camel-hair broom, I dislodge a mother’s family, -wholly or in part, and place it within reach of a second mother, -herself carrying her family, the latter will collect the young ones by -armfuls, as she would her own offspring, and very kindly allow the -newcomers to mount upon her back. One would say that she adopts them, -were the expression not too ambitious. There is no adoption. It is the -same blindness as that of the Lycosa, who is incapable of -distinguishing between her own family and the family of others, and -welcomes all that swarms about her legs. - -I expected to come upon excursions similar to those of the Lycosa, whom -it is not unusual to meet scouring the heath with her pack of children -on her back. The Scorpion knows nothing of these diversions. Once she -becomes a mother, for some time she does not leave her home, not even -in the evening, at the hour when others sally forth to frolic. -Barricaded in her cell, not troubling to eat, she watches over the -upbringing of her young. - -As a matter of fact, those frail creatures have a delicate test to -undergo: they have, one might say, to be born a second time. They -prepare for it by immobility and by an inward labour not unlike that -which turns the larva into the perfect insect. In spite of their fairly -correct appearance as Scorpions, the young ones have rather indistinct -features, which look as though seen through a mist. One is inclined to -credit them with a sort of child’s smock, which they must throw off in -order to become slim and acquire a definite shape. - -Eight days spent without moving, on the mother’s back, are necessary to -this work. Then there takes place an excoriation which I hesitate to -describe by the expression “casting of the skin,” so greatly does it -differ from the true casting of the skin, undergone later at repeated -intervals. For the latter, the skin splits over the thorax; and the -animal emerges through this single fissure, leaving a dry cast garment -behind it, similar in shape to the Scorpion that has just thrown it -off. The empty mould retains the exact outline of the moulded animal. - -But, this time, it is something different. I place a few young ones in -course of excoriation on a sheet of glass. They are motionless, sorely -tried, it seems, almost spent. The skin bursts, without special lines -of cleavage; it tears at one and the same time in front, behind, at the -sides; the legs come out of their gaiters, the claws leave their -gauntlets, the tail quits its scabbard. The cast skin falls in rags on -every side at a time. It is a flaying without order and in tatters. -When it is done, the flayed insects present the normal appearance of -Scorpions. They have also acquired agility. Although still pale in -tint, they are nimble, quick to set foot to earth in order to run and -play near the mother. The most striking part of this progress is the -brisk growth. The young of the Languedocian Scorpion measured nine -millimetres in length; they now measure fourteen. [38] Those of the -Black Scorpion have grown from four to six or seven millimetres. [39] -The length increases by one half, which nearly trebles the volume. - -Surprised at this sudden growth, one asks one’s self what the cause can -be; for the little ones have taken no food. The weight has not -increased: on the contrary, it has diminished; for we must remember -that the skin has been cast. The volume grows, but not the bulk. It is -therefore a distension up to a certain point and may be compared with -that of inorganic bodies under the influence of heat. A secret change -takes place, which groups the living molecules into a more spacious -combination; and the volume increases without the addition of fresh -materials. One who, possessed of a fine patience and suitably equipped, -cared to follow the rapid changes of this architecture would, I think, -reap a harvest of some value. I, in my penury, abandon the problem to -others. - -The remains of the excoriation are white strips, silky rags, which, so -far from falling to the ground, attach themselves to the back of the -Scorpion, especially near the basal segments of the legs, and there -tangle themselves into a soft carpet on which the lately-flayed insects -rest. The steed now carries a saddle-cloth well-adapted to hold her -restless riders in position. Whether these have to alight or to -remount, the layer of tatters, now become a solid harness, affords -supports for rapid evolutions. - -When I topple over the family with a slight stroke of the camel-hair -pencil, it is amusing to see how quickly the unhorsed ones resume their -seat in the saddle. The fringes of the housings are grasped, the tail -is used as a lever and, with a bound, the horseman is in his place. -This curious carpet, a real boarding-netting which allows of easy -scaling, lasts, without dislocations, for nearly a week, that is to -say, until the emancipation. Then it comes off of its own accord, -either as a whole or piecemeal, and nothing remains of it when the -young are scattered around. - -Meantime, signs of the colouring appear; the tail and belly are tinged -with saffron, the claws assume the soft brilliancy of transparent -amber. Youth beautifies all things. The little Languedocian Scorpions -are really splendid. If they remained thus, if they did not carry a -poison-still, soon to become threatening, they would be pretty -creatures which one would find a pleasure in rearing. Soon the wish for -emancipation awakens in them. They gladly descend from the mother’s -back to frolic merrily in the neighbourhood. If they stray too far, the -mother cautions them and brings them back again by sweeping the rake of -her arms over the sand. - -At dozing-time, the sight furnished by the Scorpioness is almost as -good as that of the hen and her chicks resting. Most of the young ones -are on the ground, pressed close against the mother; a few are -stationed on the white saddle-cloth, a delightful cushion. There are -some who clamber up the mother’s tail, perch on the top of the bend and -seem to delight in looking down from that point of vantage upon the -crowd. More acrobats arrive, who dislodge them and take their places. -All want their share in the curiosities provided by the gazebo. - -The bulk of the family is around the mother; there is a constant swarm -of brats that crawl under the belly and there squat, leaving their -forehead, with the gleaming black eye-points, outside. The more -restless prefer the mother’s legs, which to them represent a gymnasium; -they here swing as on a trapeze. Next, at their leisure, the whole -troop climb up to the spine again, resume their places, settle down; -and nothing more stirs, neither mother nor little ones. - -This period wherein the emancipation is matured and prepared lasts for -a week, exactly as long as the strange labour that trebles the volume -without food. The family remains upon the mother’s back for a -fortnight, all told. The Lycosa carries her young for six or seven -months, during which time they are always active and lively, although -unfed. What do those of the Scorpion eat, at least after the -excoriation that has given them agility and a new life? Does the mother -invite them to her meals and reserve the tenderest morsels of her -repasts for them? She invites nobody; she reserves nothing. - -I serve her a Cricket, chosen among the small game that seems to me -best-suited to the delicate nature of her sons. While she gnaws the -morsel, without troubling in the least about her surroundings, one of -the little ones slips down her spine, crawls along her forehead and -leans over to see what is happening. He touches the jaws with the tip -of his leg; then briskly he retreats, startled. He goes away; and he is -well-advised. The abyss engaged in the work of mastication, so far from -reserving him a mouthful, might perhaps snap him up and swallow him -without giving him a further thought. - -A second is hanging on behind the Cricket, of whom the mother is -munching the front. He nibbles, he pulls, eager for a bit. His -perseverance comes to nothing: the fare is too tough. - -I have seen it pretty often: the appetite awakens; the young would -gladly accept food, if the mother took the least care to offer them -any, especially food adjusted to the weakness of their stomachs; but -she just eats for herself and that is all. - -What do you want, O my pretty little Scorpions, who have provided me -with such delightful moments? You want to go away, to some distant -place, in search of victuals, of the tiniest of tiny beasties. I can -see it by your restless roving. You run away from the mother, who, on -her side, ceases to know you. You are strong enough; the hour has come -to disperse. - -If I knew exactly the infinitesimal game that suited you and if I had -sufficient time to procure it for you, I should love to continue your -upbringing; but not among the potsherds of the native cage, in the -company of your elders. I know their intolerant spirit. The ogres would -eat you up, my children. Your own mothers would not spare you. You are -strangers to them henceforth. Next year, at the wedding-season, they -would eat you, the jealous creatures! You had better go; prudence -demands it. - -Where could I lodge you and how could I feed you? The best thing is to -say good-bye, not without a certain regret on my part. One of these -days, I will take you and scatter you in your territory, the -rock-strewn slope where the sun is so hot. There you will find brothers -and sisters who, hardly larger than yourselves, are already leading -solitary lives, under their little stones, sometimes no bigger than a -thumb-nail. There you will learn the hard struggle for life better than -you would with me. - - - THE END - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] “When you and I start housekeeping, alas, what shall we do? - You in front and I behind, we’ll shove the tub along!” - -[2] Jean Baptiste Victor Proudhon (1758–1838), author of De la -distinction des biens, Traité du domaine public, etc.—Translator’s -Note. - -[3] A light opera, with music by Victor Masse and libretto by Jules -Barbier and Michel Carré (1852).—Translator’s Note. - -[4] “Ah, how sweet is far niente, - When round us throbs the busy world!” - -[5] ·11 to ·15 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[6] Close upon 9½ feet.—Translator’s Note. - -[7] 1·8 × 1·4 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[8] 1·4 × 1·1 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[9] ·4 × ·2 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[10] 3·9 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[11] ·39 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[12] Pierre André Latreille (1762–1833), one of the founders of -entomological science.—Translator’s Note. - -[13] Mémoires du Muséum d’histoire naturelle, vol. v., p. 249.—Author’s -Note. - -[14] About eight inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[15] An egg-shaped cake baked in Provence at Easter.—Translator’s Note. - -[16] 3·93 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[17] Four to five inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[18] ·039 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[19] Voyage autour de ma chambre (1795).—Translator’s Note. - -[20] Sérignan, in Provence, is the author’s birth-place.—Translator’s -Note. - -[21] ·78 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[22] ·78 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[23] About 61 cubic inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[24] Over 39 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[25] 11 to 12 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[26] 7½ to 8 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[27] ·27 to ·31 × ·15 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[28] François Huber (1750–1831), the Swiss naturalist. He early became -blind from excessive study and conducted his scientific work thereafter -with the aid of his wife.—Translator’s Note. - -[29] 1½ inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[30] 4 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[31] The Vocontii inhabited the Viennaise, between the Allobroges on -the north, the Caturiges and the estates of King Cottius on the east, -the Cavares on the west, and the Memini and Vulgientes on the south. -Vasio (Vocontia), now Vaison, was their capital.—Translator’s Note. - -[32] From Massalia, the ancient name of Marseilles, of which Phocæa, in -Asia Minor, was the mother city.—Translator’s Note. - -[33] Nemansus, the Latin name of Nîmes.—Translator’s Note. - -[34] ·2 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[35] 3 to 3½ inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[36] ·35 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[37] ·15 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[38] ·35 increased to ·55 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[39] ·15 increased to ·235 or ·275 inch.—Translator’s Note. - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE AND LOVE OF THE -INSECT *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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