THE EUMENES
A wasp-like garb of motley black and yellow; a slender and graceful figure; wings not spread out flat, when resting, but folded lengthwise in two; the abdomen a sort of chemist's retort, which swells into a gourd and is fastened to the thorax by a long neck, first distending into a pear, then shrinking to a thread; a leisurely and silent flight; lonely habits. There we have a summary sketch of the Eumenes. My part of the country possesses two species: the larger, Eumenes Amedei, Lep., measures n
Similar in form and colouring, both possess a like talent for architecture; and this talent is expressed in a work of the highest perfection which charms the most untutored eye. Their dwelling is a masterpiece. The Eumenes follow the profession of arms, which is unfavourable to artistic effort; they stab a prey with their sting; they pillage and plunder. They are predatory Hymenoptera, victualling their grubs with caterpillars. It will be interesting to compare their habits with those of the operator on the Grey Worm. (Ammophila hirsuta, who hunts the Grey Worm, the caterpillar of Noctua segetum, the Dart or Turnip Moth.--Translator's Note.) Though the quarry--caterpillars in either case--remain the same, perhaps instinct, which is liable to vary with the species, has fresh glimpses in store for us. Besides, the edifice built by the Eumenes in itself deserves inspection.
The Hunting Wasps whose story we have described in former volumes are wonderfully well versed in the art of wielding the lancet; they astound us with their surgical methods, which they seem to have learnt from some physiologist who allows nothing to escape him; but those skilful slayers have no merit as builders of dwelling-houses. What is their home, in point of fact? An underground passage, with a cell at the end of it; a gallery, an excavation, a shapeless cave. It is miner's work, navvy's work: vigorous sometimes, artistic never. They use the pick-axe for loosening, the crowbar for shifting, the rake for extracting the materials, but never the trowel for laying. Now in the Eumenes we see real masons, who build their houses bit by bit with stone and mortar and run them up in the open, either on the firm rock or on the shaky support of a bough. Hunting alternates with architecture; the insect is a Nimrod or a Vitruvius by turns. (Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, the Roman architect and engineer.--Translator's Note.)
And, first of all, what sites do these builders select for their homes? Should you pass some little garden-wall, facing south, in a sun-scorched corner, look at the stones that are not covered with plaster, look at them one by one, especially the largest; examine the masses of boulders, at no great height from the ground, where the fierce rays have heated them to the temperature of a Turkish bath; and, perhaps, if you seek long enough, you will light upon the structure of Eumenes Amedei. The insect is scarce and lives apart; a meeting is an event upon which we must not count with too great confidence. It is an African species and loves the heat that ripens the carob and the date. It haunts the sunniest spots and selects rocks or firm stones as a foundation for its nest. Sometimes also, but seldom, it copies the Chalicodoma of the Walls and builds upon an ordinary pebble. (Or Mason-bee.--Translator's Note.)
Eumenes pomiformis is much more common and is comparatively indifferent to the nature of the foundation whereon she erects her cells. She builds on walls, on isolated stones, on the wood of the inner surface of half-closed shutters; or else she adopts an aerial base, the slender twig of a shrub, the withered sprig of a plant of some sort. Any form of support serves her purpose. Nor does she trouble about shelter. Less chilly than her African cousin, she does not shun the unprotected spaces exposed to every wind that blows.
When erected on a horizontal surface, where nothing interferes with it, the structure of Eumenes Amedei is a symmetrical cupola, a spherical skull-cap, with, at the top, a narrow passage just wide enough for the insect, and surmounted by a neatly funnelled neck. It suggests the round hut of the Eskimo or of the ancient Gael, with its central chimney. Two centimetres and a half (.97 inch.--Translator's Note.), more or less, represent the diameter, and two centimetres the height. (.78 inch.--Translator's Note.) When the support is a perpendicular plane, the building still retains the domed shape, but the entrance- and exit-funnel opens at the side, upwards. The floor of this apartment calls for no labour: it is supplied direct by the bare stone.
Having chosen the site, the builder erects a circular fence about three millimetres thick. (.118 inch.--Translator's Note.) The materials consist of mortar and small stones. The insect selects its stone-quarry in some well-trodden path, on some neighbouring road, at the driest, hardest spots. With its mandibles, it scrapes together a small quantity of dust and saturates it with saliva until the whole becomes a regular hydraulic mortar which soon sets and is no longer susceptible to water. The Mason-bees have shown us a similar exploitation of the beaten paths and of the road-mender's macadam. All these open-air builders, all these erectors of monuments exposed to wind and weather require an exceedingly dry stone-dust; otherwise the material, already moistened with water, would not properly absorb the liquid that is to give it cohesion; and the edifice would soon be wrecked by the rains. They possess the sense of discrimination of the plasterer, who rejects plaster injured by damp. We shall see presently how the insects that build under shelter avoid this laborious macadam-scraping and give the preference to fresh earth already reduced to a paste by its own dampness. When common lime answers our purpose, we do not trouble about Roman cement. Now Eumenes Amedei requires a first-class cement, even better than that of the Chalicodoma of the Walls, for the work, when finished, does not receive the thick covering wherewith the Mason-bee protects her cluster of cells. And therefore the cupola-builder, as often as she can, uses the highway as her stone-pit.
With the mortar, flints are needed. These are bits of gravel of an almost unvarying size--that of a peppercorn--but of a shape and kind differing greatly, according to the places worked. Some are sharp-cornered, with facets determined by chance fractures; some are round, polished by friction under water. Some are of limestone, others of silicic matter. The favourite stones, when the neighbourhood of the nest permits, are little nodules of quartz, smooth and semitransparent. These are selected with minute care. The insect weighs them, so to say, measures them with the compass of its mandibles and does not accept them until after recognizing in them the requisite qualities of size and hardness.
A circular fence, we were saying, is begun on the bare rock. Before the mortar sets, which does not take long, the mason sticks a few stones into the soft mass, as the work advances. She dabs them half-way into the cement, so as to leave them jutting out to a large extent, without penetrating to the inside, where the wall must remain smooth for the sake of the larva's comfort. If necessary, a little plaster is added, to tone down the inner protuberances. The solidly embedded stonework alternates with the pure mortarwork, of which each fresh course receives its facing of tiny encrusted pebbles. As the edifice is raised, the builder slopes the construction a little towards the centre and fashions the curve which will give the spherical shape. We employ arched centrings to support the masonry of a dome while building: the Eumenes, more daring than we, erects her cupola without any scaffolding.
A round orifice is contrived at the summit; and, on this orifice, rises a funnelled mouthpiece built of pure cement. It might be the graceful neck of some Etruscan vase. When the cell is victualled and the egg laid, this mouthpiece is closed with a cement plug; and in this plug is set a little pebble, one alone, no more: the ritual never varies. This work of rustic architecture has naught to fear from the inclemency of the weather; it does not yield to the pressure of the fingers; it resists the knife that attempts to remove it without breaking it. Its nipple shape and the bits of gravel wherewith it bristles all over the outside remind one of certain cromlechs of olden time, of certain tumuli whose domes are strewn with Cyclopean stones.
Such is the appearance of the edifice when the cell stands alone; but the Hymenopteron nearly always fixes other domes against her first, to the number of five, six, or more. This shortens the labour by allowing her to use the same partition for two adjoining rooms. The original elegant symmetry is lost and the whole now forms a cluster which, at first sight, appears to be merely a clod of dry mud, sprinkled with tiny pebbles. But let us examine the shapeless mass more closely and we shall perceive the number of chambers composing the habitation with the funnelled mouths, each quite distinct and each furnished with its gravel stopper set in the cement.
The Chalicodoma of the Walls employs the same building methods as Eumenes Amedei: in the courses of cement she fixes, on the outside, small stones of minor bulk. Her work begins by being a turret of rustic art, not without a certain prettiness; then, when the cells are placed side by side, the whole construction degenerates into a lump governed apparently by no architectural rule. Moreover, the Mason-bee covers her mass of cells with a thick layer of cement, which conceals the original rockwork edifice. The Eumenes does not resort to this general coating: her building is too strong to need it; she leaves the pebbly facings uncovered, as well as the entrances to the cells. The two sorts of nests, although constructed of similar materials, are therefore easily distinguished.
The Eumenes' cupola is the work of an artist; and the artist would be sorry to cover his masterpiece with whitewash. I crave forgiveness for a suggestion which I advance with all the reserve befitting so delicate a subject. Would it not be possible for the cromlech-builder to take a pride in her work, to look upon it with some affection and to feel gratified by this evidence of her cleverness? Might there not be an insect science of aesthetics? I seem at least to catch a glimpse, in the Eumenes, of a propensity to beautify her work. The nest must be, before all, a solid habitation, an inviolable stronghold; but, should ornament intervene without jeopardizing the power of resistance, will the worker remain indifferent to it? Who would say?
Let us set forth the facts. The orifice at the top, if left as a mere hole, would suit the purpose quite as well as an elaborate door: the insect would lose nothing in regard to facilities for coming and going and would gain by shortening the labour. Yet we find, on the contrary, the mouth of an amphora, gracefully curved, worthy of a potter's wheel. A choice cement and careful work are necessary for the confection of its slender, funnelled shaft. Why this nice finish, if the builder be wholly absorbed in the solidity of her work?
Here is another detail: among the bits of gravel employed for the outer covering of the cupola, grains of quartz predominate. They are polished and translucent; they glitter slightly and please the eye. Why are these little pebbles preferred to chips of lime-stone, when both materials are found in equal abundance around the nest?
A yet more remarkable feature: we find pretty often, encrusted on the dome, a few tiny, empty snail-shells, bleached by the sun. The species usually selected by the Eumenes is one of the smaller Helices--Helix strigata--frequent on our parched slopes. I have seen nests where this Helix took the place of pebbles almost entirely. They were like boxes made of shells, the work of a patient hand.
A comparison offers here. Certain Australian birds, notably the Bower-birds, build themselves covered walks, or playhouses, with interwoven twigs, and decorate the two entrances to the portico by strewing the threshold with anything that they can find in the shape of glittering, polished, or bright-coloured objects. Every door-sill is a cabinet of curiosities where the collector gathers smooth pebbles, variegated shells, empty snail-shells, parrot's feathers, bones that have come to look like sticks of ivory. The odds and ends mislaid by man find a home in the bird's museum, where we see pipe-stems, metal buttons, strips of cotton stuff and stone axe-heads.
The collection at either entrance to the bower is large enough to fill half a bushel. As these objects are of no use to the bird, its only motive for accumulating them must be an art-lover's hobby. Our common Magpie has similar tastes: any shiny thing that he comes upon he picks up, hides and hoards.
Well, the Eumenes, who shares this passion for bright pebbles and empty snail-shells, is the Bower-bird of the insect world; but she is a more practical collector, knows how to combine the useful and the ornamental and employs her finds in the construction of her nest, which is both a fortress and a museum. When she finds nodules of translucent quartz, she rejects everything else: the building will be all the prettier for them. When she comes across a little white shell, she hastens to beautify her dome with it; should fortune smile and empty snail-shells abound, she encrusts the whole fabric with them, until it becomes the supreme expression of her artistic taste. Is this so? Or is it not so? Who shall decide?
The nest of Eumenes pomiformis is the size of an average cherry and constructed of pure mortar, without the least outward pebblework. Its shape is exactly similar to that which we have just described. When built upon a horizontal base of sufficient extent, it is a dome with a central neck, funnelled like the mouth of an urn. But when the foundation is reduced to a mere point, as on the twig of a shrub, the nest becomes a spherical capsule, always, of course, surmounted by a neck. It is then a miniature specimen of exotic pottery, a paunchy alcarraza. Its thickens is very slight, less than that of a sheet of paper; it crushes under the least effort of the fingers. The outside is not quite even. It displays wrinkles and seams, due to the different courses of mortar, or else knotty protuberances distributed almost concentrically.
Both Hymenoptera accumulate caterpillars in their coffers, whether domes or jars. Let us give an abstract of the bill of fare. These documents, for all their dryness, possess a value; they will enable whoso cares to interest himself in the Eumenes to perceive to what extent instinct varies the diet, according to the place and season. The food is plentiful, but lacks variety. It consists of tiny caterpillars, by which I mean the grubs of small Butterflies. We learn this from the structure, for we observe in the prey selected by either Hymenopteran the usual caterpillar organism. The body is composed of twelve segments, not including the head. The first three have true legs, the next two are legless, then come two segments with prolegs, two legless segments and, lastly, a terminal segment with prolegs. It is exactly the same structure which we saw in the Ammophila's Grey Worm.
My old notes give the following description of the caterpillars found in the nest of Eumenes Amedei: "a pale green or, less often, a yellowish body, covered with short white hairs; head wider than the front segment, dead-black and also bristling with hairs. Length: 16 to 18 millimetres (.63 to .7 inch.--Translator's Note.); width: about 3 millimetres." (.12 inch.--Translator's Note.) A quarter of a century and more has elapsed since I jotted down this descriptive sketch; and to-day, at Sérignan, I find in the Eumenes' larder the same game which I noticed long ago at Carpentras. Time and distance have not altered the nature of the provisions.
The number of morsels served for the meal of each larva interests us more than the quality. In the cells of Eumenes Amedei, I find sometimes five caterpillars and sometimes ten, which means a difference of a hundred per cent in the quantity of the food, for the morsels are of exactly the same size in both cases. Why this unequal supply, which gives a double portion to one larva and a single portion to another? The diners have the same appetite: what one nurseling demands a second must demand, unless we have here a different menu, according to the sexes. In the perfect stage the males are smaller than the females, are hardly half as much in weight or volume. The amount of victuals, therefore, required to bring them to their final development may be reduced by one-half. In that case, the well-stocked cells belong to females; the others, more meagrely supplied, belong to males.
But the egg is laid when the provisions are stored; and this egg has a determined sex, though the most minute examination is not able to discover the differences which will decide the hatching of a female or a male. We are therefore needs driven to this strange conclusion: the mother knows beforehand the sex of the egg which she is about to lay; and this knowledge allows her to fill the larder according to the appetite of the future grub. What a strange world, so wholly different from ours! We fall back upon a special sense to explain the Ammophila's hunting; what can we fall back upon to account for this intuition of the future? Can the theory of chances play a part in the hazy problem? If nothing is logically arranged with a foreseen object, how is this clear vision of the invisible acquired?
The capsules of Eumenes pomiformis are literally crammed with game. It is true that the morsels are very small. My notes speak of fourteen green caterpillars in one cell and sixteen in a second cell. I have no other information about the integral diet of this Wasp, whom I have neglected somewhat, preferring to study her cousin, the builder of rockwork domes. As the two sexes differ in size, although to a lesser degree than in the case of Eumenes Amedei, I am inclined to think that those two well-filled cells belonged to females and that the males' cells must have a less sumptuous table. Not having seen for myself, I am content to set down this mere suspicion.
What I have seen and often seen is the pebbly nest, with the larva inside and the provisions partly consumed. To continue the rearing at home and follow my charge's progress from day to day was a business which I could not resist; besides, as far as I was able to see, it was easily managed. I had had some practice in this foster-father's trade; my association with the Bembex, the Ammophila, the Sphex (three species of Digger-wasps.--Translator's Note.) and many others had turned me into a passable insect-rearer. I was no novice in the art of dividing an old pen-box into compartments in which I laid a bed of sand and, on this bed, the larva and her provisions delicately removed from the maternal cell. Success was almost certain at each attempt: I used to watch the larvae at their meals, I saw my nurselings grow up and spin their cocoons. Relying upon the experience thus gained, I reckoned upon success in raising my Eumenes.
The results, however, in no way answered to my expectations. All my endeavours failed; and the larva allowed itself to die a piteous death without touching its provisions.
I ascribed my reverse to this, that and the other cause: perhaps I had injured the frail grub when demolishing the fortress; a splinter of masonry had bruised it when I forced open the hard dome with my knife; a too sudden exposure to the sun had surprised it when I withdrew it from the darkness of its cell; the open air might have dried up its moisture. I did the best I could to remedy all these probable reasons of failure. I went to work with every possible caution in breaking open the home; I cast the shadow of my body over the nest, to save the grub from sunstroke; I at once transferred larva and provisions into a glass tube and placed this tube in a box which I carried in my hand, to minimize the jolting on the journey. Nothing was of avail: the larva, when taken from its dwelling, always allowed itself to pine away.
For a long time I persisted in explaining my want of success by the difficulties attending the removal. Eumenes Amedei's cell is a strong casket which cannot be forced without sustaining a shock; and the demolition of a work of this kind entails such varied accidents that we are always liable to think that the worm has been bruised by the wreckage. As for carrying home the nest intact on its support, with a view to opening it with greater care than is permitted by a rough-and-ready operation in the fields, that is out of the question: the nest nearly always stands on an immovable rock or on some big stone forming part of a wall. If I failed in my attempts at rearing, it was because the larva had suffered when I was breaking up her house. The reason seemed a good one; and I let it go at that.
In the end, another idea occurred to me and made me doubt whether my rebuffs were always due to clumsy accidents. The Eumenes' cells are crammed with game: there are ten caterpillars in the cell of Eumenes Amedei and fifteen in that of Eumenes pomiformis. These caterpillars, stabbed no doubt, but in a manner unknown to me, are not entirely motionless. The mandibles seize upon what is presented to them, the body buckles and unbuckles, the hinder half lashes out briskly when stirred with the point of a needle. At what spot is the egg laid amid that swarming mass, where thirty mandibles can make a hole in it, where a hundred and twenty pairs of legs can tear it? When the victuals consist of a single head of game, these perils do not exist; and the egg is laid on the victim not at hazard, but upon a judiciously chosen spot. Thus, for instance, Ammophila hirsuta fixes hers, by one end, cross-wise, on the Grey Worm, on the side of the first prolegged segment. The eggs hang over the caterpillar's back, away from the legs, whose proximity might be dangerous. The worm, moreover, stung in the greater number of its nerve-centres, lies on one side, motionless and incapable of bodily contortions or said an jerks of its hinder segments. If the mandibles try to snap, if the legs give a kick or two, they find nothing in front of them: the Ammophila's egg is at the opposite side. The tiny grub is thus able, as soon as it hatches, to dig into the giant's belly in full security.
How different are the conditions in the Eumenes' cell. The caterpillars are imperfectly paralysed, perhaps because they have received but a single stab; they toss about when touched with a pin; they are bound to wriggle when bitten by the larva. If the egg is laid on one of them, the first morsel will, I admit, be consumed without danger, on condition that the point of attack be wisely chosen; but there remain others which are not deprived of every means of defence. Let a movement take place in the mass; and the egg, shifted from the upper layer, will tumble into a pitfall of legs and mandibles. The least thing is enough to jeopardize its existence; and this least thing has every chance of being brought about in the disordered heap of caterpillars. The egg, a tiny cylinder, transparent as crystal, is extremely delicate: a touch withers it, the least pressure crushes it.
No, its place is not in the mass of provisions, for the caterpillars, I repeat, are not sufficiently harmless. Their paralysis is incomplete, as is proved by their contortions when I irritate them and shown, on the other hand, by a very important fact. I have sometimes taken from Eumenes Amedei's cell a few heads of game half transformed into chrysalids. It is evident that the transformation was effected in the cell itself and, therefore, after the operation which the Wasp had performed upon them. Whereof does this operation consist? I cannot say precisely, never having seen the huntress at work. The sting most certainly has played its part; but where? And how often? This is what we do not know. What we are able to declare is that the torpor is not very deep, inasmuch as the patient sometimes retains enough vitality to shed its skin and become a chrysalid. Everything thus tends to make us ask by what stratagem the egg is shielded from danger.
This stratagem I longed to discover; I would not be put off by the scarcity of nests, by the irksomeness of the searches, by the risk of sunstroke, by the time taken up, by the vain breaking open of unsuitable cells; I meant to see and I saw. Here is my method: with the point of a knife and a pair of nippers, I make a side opening, a window, beneath the dome of Eumenes Amedei and Eumenes pomiformis. I work with the greatest care, so as not to injure the recluse. Formerly I attacked the cupola from the top, now I attack it from the side. I stop when the breach is large enough to allow me to see the state of things within.
What is this state of things? I pause to give the reader time to reflect and to think out for himself a means of safety that will protect the egg and afterwards the grub in the perilous conditions which I have set forth. Seek, think and contrive, such of you as have inventive minds. Have you guessed it? Do you give it up? I may as well tell you.
The egg is not laid upon the provisions; it is hung from the top of the cupola by a thread which vies with that of a Spider's web for slenderness. The dainty cylinder quivers and swings to and fro at the least breath; it reminds me of the famous pendulum suspended from the dome of the Pantheon to prove the rotation of the earth. The victuals are heaped up underneath.
Second act of this wondrous spectacle. In order to witness it, we must open a window in cell upon cell until fortune deigns to smile upon us. The larva is hatched and already fairly large. Like the egg, it hangs perpendicularly, by the rear, from the ceiling; but the suspensory cord has gained considerably in length and consists of the original thread eked out by a sort of ribbon. The grub is at dinner: head downwards, it is digging into the limp belly of one of the caterpillars. I touch up the game that is still intact with a straw. The caterpillars grow restless. The grub forthwith retires from the fray. And how? Marvel is added to marvels: what I took for a flat cord, for a ribbon, at the lower end of the suspensory thread, is a sheath, a scabbard, a sort of ascending gallery wherein the larva crawls backwards and makes its way up. The cast shell of the egg, retaining its cylindrical form and perhaps lengthened by a special operation on the part of the new-born grub, forms this safety-channel. At the least sign of danger in the heap of caterpillars, the larva retreats into its sheath and climbs back to the ceiling, where the swarming rabble cannot reach it. When peace is restored, it slides down its case and returns to table, with its head over the viands and its rear upturned and ready to withdraw in case of need.
Third and last act. Strength has come; the larva is brawny enough not to dread the movements of the caterpillars' bodies. Besides, the caterpillars, mortified by fasting and weakened by a prolonged torpor, become more and more incapable of defence. The perils of the tender babe are succeeded by the security of the lusty stripling; and the grub, henceforth scorning its sheathed lift, lets itself drop upon the game that remains. And thus the banquet ends in normal fashion.
That is what I saw in the nests of both species of the Eumenes and that is what I showed to friends who were even more surprised than I by these ingenious tactics. The egg hanging from the ceiling, at a distance from the provisions, has naught to fear from the caterpillars, which flounder about below. The new-hatched larva, whose suspensory cord is lengthened by the sheath of the egg, reaches the game and takes a first cautious bite at it. If there be danger, it climbs back to the ceiling by retreating inside the scabbard. This explains the failure of my earlier attempts. Not knowing of the safety-thread, so slender and so easily broken, I gathered at one time the egg, at another the young larva, after my inroads at the top had caused them to fall into the middle of the live victuals. Neither of them was able to thrive when brought into direct contact with the dangerous game.
If any one of my readers, to whom I appealed just now, has thought out something better than the Eumenes' invention, I beg that he will let me know: there is a curious parallel to be drawn between the inspirations of reason and the inspirations of instinct.
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<div> <img src="/images/022.png" alt="" title="" height="389" width="253" /> Cabbage worm feeding, slightly enlarged.</div> <div> <img src="/images/023.png" alt="" title="" height="53" width="200" /> Pupa or chrysalis of cabbage miller.</div> <p>Go int... THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR
The cabbage of our modern kitchen-gardens is a semi-artificial plant, the produce of our agricultural ingenuity quite as much as of the niggardly gifts of nature. Spontaneous vegetation supplied us with the long-stalked, scanty-leaved, ill-smelling wil... The Cabbage-caterpillar
The cabbage of our modern kitchen-gardens is a semi-artificial plant, the produce of our agricultural ingenuity quite as much as of the niggardly gifts of nature. Spontaneous vegetation supplied us with the long-stalked, scanty-leaved, ill-smelling ... THE CADDIS WORM
Whom shall I lodge in my glass trough, kept permanently wholesome by the action of the water weeds? I shall keep caddis worms, those expert dressers. Few of the self-clothing insects surpass them in ingenious attire. The ponds in my neighborhood ... THE CAPRICORN
My youthful meditations owe some happy moments to Condillac's famous statue which, when endowed with the sense of smell, inhales the scent of a rose and out of that single impression creates a whole world of ideas. (Etienne Bonnot de Condillac, Abb‚ ... The Capricorn
My youthful meditations owe some happy moments to Condillac's famous statue which, when endowed with the sense of smell, inhales the scent of a rose and out of that single impression creates a whole world of ideas. (Etienne Bonnot de Condillac, Abbe... THE CETONIA-LARVA
The Scolia's feeding-period lasts, on the average, for a dozen days or so. By then the victuals are no more than a crumpled bag, a skin emptied of the last scrap of nutriment. A little earlier, the russet-yellow tint announces the extinction of the ... THE CIGALE LEAVES ITS BURROW
The first Cigales appear about the summer solstice. Along the beaten paths, calcined by the sun, hardened by the passage of frequent feet, we see little circular orifices almost large enough to admit the thumb. These are the holes by which the lar... THE CIGALE. THE EGGS AND THEIR HATCHING
The Cigale confides its eggs to dry, slender twigs. All the branches examined by Reaumur which bore such eggs were branches of the mulberry: a proof that the person entrusted with the search for these eggs in the neighbourhood of Avignon did not b... THE CLOTHO SPIDER
She is named Durand's Clotho (_Clotho Durandi_, LATR.), in memory of him who first called attention to this particular Spider. To enter on eternity under the safe-conduct of a diminutive animal which saves us from speedy oblivion under the mallow... The Colorado Potato Beetle
<div> <img src="/images/037.png" alt="" title="" height="300" width="183" /> The Colorado potato beetle showing stages of development and work on a potato plant. Note the small patch of eggs and different sized grub on the plant and the grub, pupa a... THE COTTON-BEES
The evidence of the Leaf-cutters proves that a certain latitude is left to the insect in its choice of materials for the nest; and this is confirmed by the testimony of the Anthidia, the cotton- manufacturers. My district possesses five: A. Florenti... THE CRAB SPIDER
The Spider that showed me the exodus in all its magnificence is known officially as _Thomisus onustus_, WALCK. Though the name suggest nothing to the reader's mind, it has the advantage, at any rate, of hurting neither the throat nor the ear, as ... THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE SEXES
Does the insect know beforehand the sex of the egg which it is about to lay? When examining the stock of food in the cells just now, we began to suspect that it does, for each little heap of provisions is carefully proportioned to the needs at one t... The Dragon Fly
<div> <img src="/images/040.png" alt="" title="" height="200" width="236" /> Cast off skin of dragon-fly nymph, showing shape and position taken on a twig when the adult winged form emerged from the last nymph stage.</div> <p>What child is there tha... The Dragon Fly Observations And Field Studies
<p>Go into the fields and study and collect the different kinds of dragon-flies and their young stages from the bottoms of ponds. How swiftly can they fly? Do they fly high in the air as well as near the water or surface of the earth? Can you see t... The Drones Or Male Bees
The drones are, unquestionably, the male bees. Dissection proves that they have the appropriate organs of generation. They are much larger and stouter than either the queen or workers; although their bodies are not quite so long as that of the queen... THE ELEPHANT - BEETLE
Some of our machines have extraordinary-looking mechanisms, which remain inexplicable so long as they are seen in repose. But wait until the whole is in motion; then the uncouth-looking contrivance, with its cog-wheels interacting and its connecti... THE EMPUSA
The sea, life's first foster-mother, still preserves in her depths many of those singular and incongruous shapes which were the earliest attempts of the animal kingdom; the land, less fruitful, but with more capacity for progress, has almost wholly los... The Empusa
The sea, life's first foster-mother, still preserves in her depths many of those singular and incongruous shapes which were the earliest attempts of the animal kingdom; the land, less fruitful, but with more capacity for progress, has almost wholly ... THE EUMENES
A wasp-like garb of motley black and yellow; a slender and graceful figure; wings not spread out flat, when resting, but folded lengthwise in two; the abdomen a sort of chemist's retort, which swells into a gourd and is fastened to the thorax by a long... The Eumenes
A wasp-like garb of motley black and yellow; a slender and graceful figure; wings not spread out flat, when resting, but folded lengthwise in two; the abdomen a sort of chemist's retort, which swells into a gourd and is fastened to the thorax by a l... THE FABLE OF THE CIGALE AND THE ANT
Fame is the daughter of Legend. In the world of creatures, as in the world of men, the story precedes and outlives history. There are many instances of the fact that if an insect attract our attention for this reason or that, it is given a place i... THE FIELD - CRICKET
The breeding of Crickets demands no particular preparations. A little patience is enough--patience, which according to Buffon is genius; but which I, more modestly, will call the superlative virtue of the observer. In April, May, or later we may e... The Firefly
<p>This insect is of little economic importance to us at present but its peculiar habit of producing light makes it a very striking form and one which deserves study. The firefly is a beetle, and begins to make its appearance the latter part of Jun... The Firefly Observations And Studies
<div> <img src="/images/033.png" alt="" title="" height="250" width="425" /> Firefly beetles on sour-dock leaf.</div> <div> <img src="/images/034.png" alt="" title="" height="200" width="124" /> Lower surface of firefly beetle enlarged to show the ligh... THE FOUNDATION OF THE CITY
LET us rather consider the proceedings of the swarm the apiarist shall have gathered into his hive. And first of all let us not be forgetful of the sacrifice these fifty thousand virgins have made, who, as Ronsard sings,-- "In a l... THE GARDEN SPIDERS: BUILDING THE WEB
The fowling-snare is one of man's ingenious villainies. With lines, pegs and poles, two large, earth-coloured nets are stretched upon the ground, one to the right, the other to the left of a bare surface. A long cord, pulled, at the right moment... THE GARDEN SPIDERS: MY NEIGHBOUR
Age does not modify the Epeira's talent in any essential feature. As the young worked, so do the old, the richer by a year's experience. There are no masters nor apprentices in their guild; all know their craft from the moment that the first thr... THE GARDEN SPIDERS: PAIRING AND HUNTING
Notwithstanding the importance of the subject, I shall not enlarge upon the nuptials of the Epeirae, grim natures whose loves easily turn to tragedy in the mystery of the night. I have but once been present at the pairing and for this curious exp... THE GARDEN SPIDERS: THE LIME-SNARE
The spiral network of the Epeirae possesses contrivances of fearsome cunning. Let us give our attention by preference to that of the Banded Epeira or that of the Silky Epeira, both of which can be observed at early morning in all their freshness.... THE GARDEN SPIDERS: THE QUESTION OF PROPERTY
A dog has found a bone. He lies in the shade, holding it between his paws, and studies it fondly. It is his sacred property, his chattel. An Epeira has woven her web. Here again is property; and owning a better title than the other. Favoured ... THE GARDEN SPIDERS: THE TELEGRAPH-WIRE
Of the six Garden Spiders that form the object of my observations, two only, the Banded and the silky Epeira, remain constantly in their webs, even under the blinding rays of a fierce sun. The others, as a rule, do not show themselves until night... THE GLOW-WORM
Few insects in our climes vie in popular fame with the Glow-worm, that curious little animal which, to celebrate the little joys of life, kindles a beacon at its tail-end. Who does not know it, at least by name? Who has not seen it roam amid the grass,... The Glow-worm
Few insects in our climes vie in popular fame with the Glow-worm, that curious little animal which, to celebrate the little joys of life, kindles a beacon at its tail-end. Who does not know it, at least by name? Who has not seen it roam amid the gra... THE GOLDEN GARDENER - COURTSHIP
It is generally recognized that the Carabus auratus is an active exterminator of caterpillars; on this account in particular it deserves its title of Gardener Beetle; it is the vigilant policeman of our kitchen-gardens, our flower-beds and herbace... THE GOLDEN GARDENER - ITS NUTRIMENT
In writing the first lines of this chapter I am reminded of the slaughter-pens of Chicago; of those horrible meat factories which in the course of the year cut up one million and eighty thousand bullocks and seventeen hundred thousand swine, which... The Grasshopper
The grasshopper or locust is one of the most ancient plagues of cultivated crops. From the earliest time they have destroyed crops. During Moses' sojourn in Egypt they were so destructive as to cause severe famine and various other references to ... The Grasshopper Field Studies
<p>The small so-called red-legged grasshopper is always most abundant in the fall and for this reason we have selected it for our studies. It is about an inch long, olive-brown in color with the ends of the hind legs bright red. It is found everywhe... THE GREAT PEACOCK OR EMPEROR MOTH
It was a memorable night! I will name it the Night of the Great Peacock. Who does not know this superb moth, the largest of all our European butterflies[3] with its livery of chestnut velvet and its collar of white fur? The greys and browns of the... THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER
We are in the middle of July. The astronomical dog-days are just beginning; but in reality the torrid season has anticipated the calendar and for some weeks past the heat has been overpowering. This evening in the village they are celebrating the Na... The Green Grasshopper
We are in the middle of July. The astronomical dog-days are just beginning; but in reality the torrid season has anticipated the calendar and for some weeks past the heat has been overpowering. This evening in the village they are celebrating the ... THE GREENBOTTLES
I have wished for a few things in my life, none of them capable of interfering with the common weal. I have longed to possess a pond, screened from the indiscretion of the passers by, close to my house, with clumps of rushes and patches of duckweed... THE GREY FLESH FLIES
Here the costume changes, not the manner of life. We find the same frequenting of dead bodies, the same capacity for the speedy liquefaction of the fleshy matter. I am speaking of an ash-gray fly, the greenbottle's superior in size, with brown str... THE GREY LOCUST
I have just witnessed a moving spectacle: the last moult of a locust; the emergence of the adult from its larval envelope. It was magnificent. I am speaking of the Grey Locust, the colossus among our acridians,[10] which is often seen among the vi... THE HALICTI A PARASITE
Do you know the Halicti? Perhaps not. There is no great harm done: it is quite possible to enjoy the few sweets of existence without knowing the Halicti. Nevertheless, when questioned persistently, these humble creatures with no history can tell us ... THE HALICTI PARTHENOGENESIS
The Halictus opens up another question, connected with one of life's obscurest problems. Let us go back five-and-twenty years. I am living at Orange. My house stands alone among the fields. On the other side of the wall enclosing our yard, which fac... THE HALICTI THE PORTRESS
Leaving our village is no very serious matter when we are children. We even look on it as a sort of holiday. We are going to see something new, those magic pictures of our dreams. With age come regrets; and the close of life is spent in stirring up ... THE HARMAS
This is what I wished for, hoc erat in votis: a bit of land, oh, not so very large, but fenced in, to avoid the drawbacks of a public way; an abandoned, barren, sun scorched bit of land, favored by thistles and by wasps and bees. Here, without fear... THE HARMAS
This is what I wished for, hoc erat in votis: a bit of land, oh, not so very large, but fenced in, to avoid the drawbacks of a public way; an abandoned, barren, sun-scorched bit of land, favoured by thistles and by Wasps and Bees. Here, without fear of... The Harmas
This is what I wished for, hoc erat in votis: a bit of land, oh, not so very large, but fenced in, to avoid the drawbacks of a public way; an abandoned, barren, sun-scorched bit of land, favoured by thistles and by Wasps and Bees. Here, without fear... The Honey Bee
<p>One can hardly believe that this small, ever busy creature each year gathers many million dollars worth of products for man in this country alone to say nothing of its inestimable value on the farm and especially in the orchard, where it assis... The Honey Bee Capable Of Being Tamed Or Domesticated To A Most Surprising Degree
If the bee had not such a necessary and yet formidable weapon both of offence and defence, multitudes would be induced to enter upon its cultivation, who are now afraid to have any thing to do with it. As the new system of management which I have ... The Honey Bee Observations And Studies
<div> <img src="/images/050.jpg" alt="" title="" height="300" width="257" /> Two colonies of bees poorly cared for. Note box hives, crowding, lack of shade, and high weeds. It is a crime to treat bees this way.</div> <p>Go into the fields and study ... The House Fly Or Typhoid Fly
<p>In the house fly we find one of man's most deadly foes. War can not compare with the campaigns of disease and death waged by this most filthy of all insects. In our recent strife with Spain we lost a few lives in battle, but we lost many more in... THE ITALIAN CRICKET
My house shelters no specimens of the domestic Cricket, the guest of bakeries and rustic hearths. But although in my village the chinks under the hearthstones are mute, the nights of summer are musical with a singer little known in the North. The ...