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BOOKS BY J. HENRI FABRE

THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER

THE LIFE OF THE FLY

THE MASON-BEES

BRAMBLE-BEES AND OTHERS

THE HUNTING WASPS

THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR

THE LIFE OF THE GRASSHOPPER

THE SACRED BEETLE AND

OTHERS

THE MASON-WASPS

copteight, 1919
Bt DODD, mead and company, Inc.

CONTENTS

PAGE

translator's note .... V

CHAPTER

I the EUMENES I

II THE ODYNERI 28

III THE PELOP.^US 60

IV THE AGENL^; THE PELOP^US'

VICTUALS 84

V ABERRATIONS OF INSTINCT . . I06

VI THE SWALLOW AND THE SPARROW 1 33

VII INSTINCT AND DISCERNMENT . 1 55

VIII THE NEST-BUILDING ODYNERUS . I76

IX INSECT GEOMETRY 219

X THE COMMON WASP .... 24O

XI THE COMMON WASP (continued) 270

XII THE VOLUCELLA . ... .288
INDEX 313

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

This is the second volume on Wasps in the
Collected Edition of Fabre's Soircenirs en-
tomologiques. The first of these was The
Hunting JFasps; and the present volume is
somewhat wilfully entitled, for all Wasps
hunt in varying degrees, if not on their own
behalf, at least on that of their young. My
object, however, was to bring together all the
essays treating of those Wasps who actually
build homes or nests, as distinct from bur-
rows. The last book on Wasps will be
called More Hunting IVasps and will be is-
sued towards the end of the series.

For reasons which will be easily apparent
to the reader, I have reprinted the chapter
called Instinct and Discernment, which was
included in Bramble-bees and Others, and
that on the Volucella, which, under the title
of The Bumble-bee Fly, formed part of The
Life of the Fly. Apart from the two chap-
ters named and the essay on the Eumenes,
which figures in The JVonders of Instinct,
pubhshed in America by the Century Co.,

Translator's Note

none of the contents of this volume has until
now appeared in the English language. The
Volucella is included by arrangement with
Mr. Fisher Unwin, the publisher of The
Wonders of Instinct in England.

My thanks are due to the late Miss
Frances Rodwell and to my friend Bernard
Miall, both of whom have been of great as-
sistance to me in preparing my translation.

Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.
CHELSEA, 1 8 April, 19 19.

THE MASON-WASPS

CHAPTER I

THE EUMENES

AWASP-LIKE garb of black and yel-
low; a slender, graceful figure; wings
that are not spread flat when resting, but are
folded lengthwise in two ; the abdomen a sort
of chemist's retort, swelling into a gourd and
fastened to the thorax by a long neck which
first distends into a pear and then shrinks to
a thread; a leisurely and silent flight; lonely
habits. There we have a summary sketch of
the Eumenes. My part of the country pos-
sesses two species: the larger E. Amadei,
Lep., measures nearly an inch in length; the
other, E. pomiformis, Fabr.,^ is a reduction
of the first to half the scale.

Similar in form and colouring, both pos-
sess a like talent for architecture; and this

1 1 include three species promiscuously under tiirb one
name, that is to say, E. pomiformis, Fabr., E. bipunctis,
Sauss., and E. dubius, Sauss. As I did not distinguish be-
tween them in my first investigations, which date a very
long time back, it is not possible for me to-day to attribute
to each of them its respective nest. But their habits are
the same, for which reason this confusion does not injure
the order of ideas in the present chapter. — Author's Note.
I

The Mason-Wasps

talent is expressed in a work of the highest
perfection, which charms the most untutored
eye. Their dwelling is a masterpiece. And
yet the Eumenes follow the profession of
arms, which is unfavourable to artistic effort:
they stab and sting a victim; they pillage and
plunder. They are predatory Wasps, vic-
tualling their larvae with caterpillars. It
must be interesting to compare their habits
with those of the operator on the Grey
Worm.^ Though the quarry — caterpillars
in either case — remain the same, instinct,
which is liable to vary with the species, may
have fresh glimpses in store for us. Besides,
the edifice built by the Eumenes in itself de-
serves inspection.

The Hunting Wasps whose story we have
told hitherto ^ are wonderfully well-versed
in the art of wielding the lancet; they astound
us with their surgical methods, which they

^Thft Grey Worm is the caterpillar of Noctua segetum,
the Dart or Turnip Moth. It is hunted by the Hairy Am-
mophila, for whom cf. The Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri
Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap,
xviii. — Translator's Note.

2 Cf . T/je Hunting Wasps: passim; Insect Life, by J. H.
Fabre, translated by the author of Mademoiselle Mori:
chaps, iii. to xii., xiv. to xvii. and xix. ; The Life and Love
of the Insect, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander
Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, xi. to xii.; and Social Life of
the Insect World, by J. H. Fabre, translated by Bernard
Miall: chap. xiii. — translator's Note.

The Eumenes

seem to have learnt from some physiologist
who allows nothing to escape him; but these
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 ex-
cavation, a shapeless cave. It is miner's
work, navvy's work: vigorous sometimes, ar-
tistic never. They use the pick for loosen-
ing, 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 firm rock or on the shaky sup-
port of a bough. Hunting alternates with
architecture; the insect is a Nimrod or a Vi-
truvius ^ by turns.

And, first of all, what sites do these build-
ers select for their homes? Should you pass
some little garden-wall, facing south, in a
sun-scorched corner, look at the stones which
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

1 Marcus Vitruvius PolHo, the Roman architect and en-
gineer.— Translator's Note.
3

The Mason-Wasps

bath ; and perhaps, if you search long enough,
you will light upon the structure of Eumenes
Amadei. 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.

E. pomiformis is much more common and
is comparatively indifferent to the nature of
the foundation on which she constructs her
cell. She builds on walls, on isolated stones,
on the inner wooden 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 un-
protected spaces exposed to every wind that
blows.

When erected on a horizontal surface,
where nothing interferes with it, the struc-

1 Cf. The Mason-bees, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by
Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, i. to iii. et passim. —
Translator's Note.

The Eumenes

ture of E. Amadei Is a symmetrical cupola,
a spherical skull-cap, having at the top a nar-
row 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.
An inch, more or less, represents the dia-
meter; three-quarters of an Inch the height.
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 an eighth of an inch
thick. The materials consist of mortar and
small stones. The insect selects Its stone-
quarry in some well-trodden path or on some
neighbouring highroad, at the driest, hard-
est spots. With Its mandibles, it scrapes to-
gether a small quantity of dust and soaks it
with saliva until the whole becomes a regu-
lar hydraulic mortar which soon sets and is
no longer susceptible to damp. The Ma-
son-bees have shown us a similar exploita-
tion of the beaten paths and of the road-
mender's macadam. All these open-air
builders, all these erectors of monuments ex-
S

The Mason-Wasps

posed to wind and weather require an ex-
ceedingly dry stone-dust; otherwise the ma-
terial, 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 shown by the plas-
terer, who rejects plaster injured by the wet.
We shall see presently how the insects that
build under cover avoid this laborious
macadam-scraping and give the preference
to fresh earth already reduced to a paste by
its own dampness. When common hme
answers our purpose, we do not trouble
about Roman cement. Now Eumenes Ama-
dei requires a first-class cement, even su-
perior to that of the Chahcodoma of the
Walls, for the work, when finished, does not
receive the thick outer casing 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, bricks are needed.
These are bits of gravel of an almost un-
varying size — that of a pepper-corn — but
of a shape and kind that differ greatly, ac-
cording to the places worked. Some are
sharp-cornered, with facets determined by
chance fractures; some are round, polished
6

The Eumenes

by friction under water. Some are of lime-
stone, others of flinty material. The
favourite stones, when the neighbourhood
of the nest permits, are smooth, semitrans-
parent little lumps of quartz. 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 making sure that
they possess the requisite qualities of size
and hardness.

A circular fence, we were saying, is be-
gun on the bare rock. Before the mortar
sets, which does not take long, the mason,
as the work advances, sticks a few stones
into the soft mass. She dabs them half-
way into the cement, so as to leave them
jutting out to a large extent, without pene-
trating to the inside, where the wall must
remain smooth for the sake of the larva's
comfort. If necessary, she adds a little
plaster, to tone down any inner excrescences.
The solidly-embedded stonework alternates
with the pure mortarwork, of which each
fresh course receives its facing of tiny en-
crusted 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
7

The Mason-Wasps

employ arched centerings to support the
masonry of a dome while building; the
Eumenes, more daring than we, erects her
cupola without any scaffolding.

A round opening is contrived at the top;
and above this opening rises a funnelled
mouth built of pure cement. It might be
the graceful neck of some Etruscan vase.
When the cell is victualled and the egg laid,
the mouth 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 inclemencies 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 Cy-
clopean blocks of stone.

Such is the appearance of the edifice when
the cell stands alone; but the Wasp nearly
always fixes other domes against her first,
to the number of five or 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 Eumenes

the whole now forms a cluster which, at first
sight, might be merely a clod of dry mud,
sprinkled with little pebbles. But examine
the shapeless mass more closely; and we
perceive the number of chambers compo-
sing 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 Ania-
dei: 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 gov-
erned 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 coat-
ing: 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, though constructed of similar
materials, are therefore easily distinguished.

The Eumenes' cupola is a piece of artist's
work; and the artist would be sorry to hide
9

The Mason-Wasps

her masterpiece under whitewash. I crave
forgiveness for a suggestion which I ad-
vance with all the reserve befitting so deli-
cate a subject. Would it not be possible
for the cromlech-builder to take a pride in
her handiwork, 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 sesthetics? I
seem at least to catch a glimpse, in the
Eumenes, of a propensity to beautify her
product. The nest must be first and fore-
most a sohd habitation, an inviolable strong-
hold; but, should ornament intervene with-
out jeopardizing the power of resistance,
will the worker remain indifferent to it?
Who could 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 re-
gard 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. Choice cement and careful
work are needed for the confection of its
slender, funnelled shaft. Why this nice fin-

The Eumenes

ish, 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
limestone, when both materials exist 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 suggests itself. Certain
Australian birds, notably the Bower-birds,
build themselves covered walks or arbours
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 doorsill is a cab-
zi

The Mason-Wasps

inet of curiosities where the collector gathers
smooth pebbles, variegated shells, empty
Snail-shells, Parrots' feathers, bones that
have come to look like sticks of ivory.
Even the odds and ends mislaid by man find
a home in the bird's museum, where we see
pipe-stems, brass 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 things 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 pas-
sion 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 ornament-
al and employs her discoveries in the construc-
tion of her nest, which is both a fortress and
a museum. When she finds bits of trans-
lucent 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

The Eumenes

abound, she encrusts the whole fabric with
them, until it becomes the supreme express-
ion of her artistic taste. Is this so or not?
Who shall decide?

The nest of Eumenes pomiformis is the
size of an average cherry and constructed of
pure mortar, without any outer pebblework.
Its shape is exactly similar to that which we
have just described. When built upon a
large enough horizontal base, 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 big-bellied alcarraza. Its thick-
ness is very slight, less than that of a sheet
of paper; it crushes under the least finger-
pressure. The outside is not quite even.
It displays wrinkles and seams, due to the
different courses of mortar, or else knotty
projections distributed almost concentric-
ally.

Both Wasps 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
13

The Mason-Wasps

cares to interest himself In the Eumenes to
perceive to what extent instinct modifies the
diet, according to place and season. The
food is plentiful but lacks variety. It con-
sists of tiny caterpillars, by which I mean
the grubs of small Butterflies or Moths.
This is proclaimed by the structure, for we
observe the usual caterpillar organism in the
prey selected by either Wasp. The body
is composed of twelve segments, not inclu-
ding the head. The first three have true
legs, the next two are legless, then come
four segments with prolegs, two legless seg-
ments and, lastly, a terminal segment with
prolegs. It is exactly the same organization
which we saw in the Ammophila's Grey
Worm.

My old notes give the following descrip-
tion of the caterpillars found in the nest of
E. Amadei: a pale-green or, less often,
yellowish body covered with short white
hairs; head wider than the front segment,
dead-black and also bristling with hairs.
Length : 1 6 to 1 8 millimetres ; ^ width :
about 3 millimetres.^ It is more than a
quarter of a century since I jotted down this
descriptive sketch; and today, at Serignan, I

1 .63 inch to .7 inch. — Translator's Note.
2 .12 inch. — Translator's Note.
14

The Eumenes

find in the Eumenes' larder the same sort of
game that I saw long ago at Carpentras.
Time and distance have not altered the
nature of the provisions.

I know one exception and one alone in
this fidelity to the ancestral diet. My ob-
servations mention a single dish that differs
greatly from those which accompany it.
This is a caterpillar of the Looper
group ^ with only three pairs of prolegs,
placed under the eighth, ninth and twelfth
segments. The body tapers slightly at
either end, is contracted at the junction of
the different rings and is pale green with
faint black veinings, visible under the magni-
fying-glass, and a few sparse black cilia.
Length: 15 miUimetres;' width: 2j^ milli-
metres.^

E. pomlformis also has her preferences.
Her game consists of small caterpillars
about 7 millimetres long by 1% wide.*
The body is pale green, pretty sharply con-
tracted at the junction of the segments.
The head is narrower than the rest of the
body and is spotted with brown. Pale ocel-

1 Also known as the Measuring-worm, the caterpillar of
the Geometrid Moth. — Translator's Note.

2 .585 inch. — Translator's Note.

3 .098 inch. — Translator's Note.

* .27 by .50 inch, — Translator's Note.
15

The Mason-Wasps

lated circles are distributed in two trans-
versal rows over the middle segments and
have a black dot in the centre, surmounted
by a black cilium. On the third and fourth
and also on the penultimate segment, each
circle has two black dots and two cilia. This
is the rule.

The exception is supplied by two head
of game in the whole course of my observa-
tions. These two had a pale yellow body,
with five longitudinal brick-red stripes and
a few very rare cilia. Head and prothorax
brown and shiny; length and diameter as
above.

The number of pieces served for the meal
of each larva interests us more than the
quality. In the cells of E. Amadei 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
pieces 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 consumers
have the same appetite: what one nurseling
demands a second must demand, unless
there be here a menu differing according to
the sexes. In the perfect stage, the males
are smaller than the females, are hardly
i6

The Eumenes

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, although 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
enables 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 fore-
seen object, how is this clear vision of the
invisible acquired?

1 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others, by J. Henri Fabre, trans-
lated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. iv. — Trans-
lator's Note.

The Mason-Wasps

The capsules of E. pomiformis are lit-
erally 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. I have no
other information about the integral diet of
this Wasp, whom I have neglected some-
what, preferring to study her cousin, the
builder of rockwork domes. As the two
sexes differ in size, though not so greatly as
in E. Amadei, I am inclined to think that
those two well-filled cells belonged to fe-
males 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 charges'
progress from day to day was a business
which I could not resist; besides, so 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 ^ and many others
had turned me into a passable insect-

1 Cf. The Hunting JFasps: chaps, iv. to viii. and xili. to
XX. — Translator's Note.

The Eumenes

breeder. I was no novice in the art
of dividing an old pen-box into com-
partments in which I laid a bed of
sand and on this bed the larva, with 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 on suc-
cess 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; per-
haps a splinter of masonry bruised it when
I forced open the hard dome with my knife;
perhaps a too-sudden exposure to the sun
surprised it when I withdrew it from the
darkness of its cell; the open air again
might have dried up its moisture. I did
the best I could to remedy all these pro-
bable reasons of failure. I went to work
with every possible caution in breaking open
the home; I cast the shadow of my body
19

The Mason-Wasps

over the nest, to save the grub from sun-
stroke; 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 pined away and
died.

For a long time, I persisted in explaining
my failure by the difficulties attending the
removal. The cell of Eumenes Amadei is a
strong casket which cannot be forced with-
out 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 grub has been bruised by the wreck-
age. 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

The Eumenes

were always due to clumsy accidents. The
Eumenes' cells are crammed with game:
there are ten caterpillars in the cell of
E. Amadei and fifteen in that of E.
pomiformts. These caterpillars, stabbed
no doubt, but stabbed in a fashion 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 pair 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, the Hairy Am-
mophila fixes hers, by one end, across the
Grey Worm, on the side of the first pro-
legged segment. The egg hangs 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 its side,
motionless and incapable of bodily contor-
tions or sudden jerks of its hinder segments.
If the mandibles try to snap, if the legs give

The Mason-Wasps

a kick or two, they find nothing in front of
them: the Ammophila's egg is in the op.-
posite direction. The httle 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 im-
perfectly 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, this first
morsel will, I admit, be consumed without
danger, on condition that the point of at-
tack 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 trap 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 pro-
visions, for the caterpillars, I repeat, are

The Eumenes

not sufficiently harmless. Their paralysis
is incomplete, as is proved by their contor-
tions when I irritate them and evidenced
moreover by a very important fact. 1 have
sometimes taken from the cell of Eumenes
Amadei a few head of game half-trans-
formed 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 can declare is that the torpor is
not very profound, inasmuch as the patient
sometimes retains enough vitality to shed its
skin and become a chrysalis. 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 search, by the risk
of sunstroke, by the time taken up in 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,
23

The Mason-Wasps

beneath the dome of E. Amadei and E.
pomiformis. I work with the greatest
care, so as not to Injure the recluse. I used
to attack the cupola from the top; I now
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 hangs 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 at the least breath; it
reminds me of the famous pendulum hung
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 after cell until fortune deigns
to smile upon us. The larva Is hatched and

The Eumenes

already fairly large. Like the egg, it hangs
perpendicularly, by its rear-end, from the
ceiling; but the suspension-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 marvel: what I took for a flat
cord, for a ribbon, at the lower end of the
suspension-thread, is a sheath, a scabbard, a
sort of ascending gallery wherein the grub
crawls backwards and makes its way up.
The cast shell of the egg, retaining its cyl-
indrical form and perhaps lengthened by a
special operation on the part of the new-
born larva, forms this safety-channel. At
the least sign of danger in the heap of cater-
pillars, the larva retreats into its sheath and
climbs back to the ceiling, where the swarm-
ing 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 and vigour
25

The Mason-Wasps

have come; the larva is sturdy 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 strip-
ling; 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 Eumenes, 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 newly-hatched worm, whose suspen-
sion-cord is lengthened by the sheath of the
egg, reaches the game and takes a first cau-
tious 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
26

The Eumenes

midst of the hve provisions. 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 ap-
pealed just now, has thought out something
better than the Eumenes' invention, I beg
that he will let me know, for there is a
curious parallel to be drawn between the
inspirations of reason and those of instinct.

CHAPTER II

THE ODYNERI

'T^HE Eumenes' suspension-cord and as-
-*• cending-sheath are rendered necessary
by the large number and the incomplete
paralysis of the caterpillars provided for
the larva ; the object of the ingenious system
is to avert danger. This, at least, is how I
regard the concatenation of causes and ef-
fects. But I yield to no one in my distrust
of whys and wherefores; I know how slip-
pery our footing becomes when we venture
on interpretations; and, before declaring the
reasons of any fact observed, I seek for a
batch of proofs. If the singular Installa-
tion of the Eumenes' egg is really due to the
reasons suggested, then, wherever we find
similar conditions of danger, namely, a
multiplicity of dishes combined with incom-
plete torpor, we must also find a similar
method of protection, or some other method
having an equivalent effect. The repeti-
tion of the act will bear witness to the cor-
rectness of ■ the interpretation; and, if it is
not reproduced elsewhere, with such varia-
28

The Odyneri

tions as may be required, the case of the
Eumenes will remain a very curious instance,
without acquiring the far-reaching sig-
nificance which I suspect it of bearing. Let
us generalize, the better to establish the
facts.

Now not far removed from the Eumenes
are the Odyneri, the Solitary Wasps ob-
served by Reaumur.^ They have the
same costumes, the same wings folded
lengthwise, the same predatory instincts
and, above all, as the supreme condition,
the same accumulations of prey retaining
sufficient power of movement to be danger-
ous. If my arguments are well-founded, if
I am right in my conjectures, the egg of the
Odynerus should be slung from the ceiling
of the cell like the egg of the Eumenes. My
conviction, based upon logic, is so positive
that I already seem to see this egg, recently
laid, quivering at the end of the life-line.

Ah, I confess that it needed a robust faith
to cherish the audacious hope of discov-
ering anything further when the masters
had seen nothing! I read and reread
Reaumur's essay on the Solitary Wasp.

iRene Antoine Ferchault de Reaumur (1683-1757), in-
ventor of the Reaumur thermometer and author of
Mimoires pour servir a I'histoire naturelle des insectes. —
Translator's Note.

The Mason-Wasps

The Insect's Herodotus gives us a host of
particulars, but says nothing, absolutely
nothing, about the hanging egg. I consult
Leon Dufour,^ who treats subjects of
this kind with his usual raciness : he has seen
the egg; he describes it; but of the suspen-
sion-thread not a word. I consult Lepele-
tier,^ Audouin,^ Blanchard:^ they are abso-
lutely silent on the means of protection
which I expect to find. Is it possible that
a detail of such great importance can have
escaped all these observers? Am I the
dupe of my imagination? Is the protective
system, though proved to my mind by close
logical reasoning, merely one of my

1 Jean Marie Leon Dufour (178c -1865), an army sur-
geon who served with distinction in several campaigns
and afterwards practised as a doctor in the Landes,
where he attained great eminence as a naturalist. Fabre
often refers to him as the Wizard of the Landes. Cf. The
Life of the Spider, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alex-
ander Teixeira de Mattos: chap, i; and The Life of the
Fht ^y J- Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira
de Mattos: chap. i. — Translator's Note.

- Amedee Comte Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau (1769-
circa 1850), author of an Histoire naturelle des insectes
(1836-1846) and of the volume on insects in the Encyclo-
pedie methodiqut. He was a younger brother of Louis
Michel and Felix Lepeletier de Saint-Fargeau, the mem-
bers of the Convention. — Translator's Note.

2 Jean Victor Audouin (1797-1841), founder of the An-
nates des sciences naturelles and author of a number of
works on insects injurious to agriculture. — Translator's
Note.

* fimile Blanchard (b. 1820), author of various works
on insects. Spiders, etc. — Translator's Note.
30

The Odyneri

dreams? Either the Eumenes have lied to
me or my hopes are justified. As a disciple
rebelling against his masters, a disciple
strong in arguments which I believed in-
vincible, I set to worlc investigating, con-
vinced that I should succeed. And I did
succeed; I found what I was looking for;
I found something better still. Let me set
things down in detail.

There are various Odyneri established in
my neighbourhood. I know one who takes
possession of the abandoned nests of Eu-
menes Amadei. This nest, a structure of un-
usual solidity, is not a ruin when its owner
moves away; it loses only its neck. The cu-
pola, preserved untouched, is a fortified re-
treat of too convenient a nature to remain va-
cant. Some Spider adopts the cavern, after
lining it with silk; Osmiae ^ take refuge in it
in rainy weather, or else make it their
dormitory, wherein to spend the night; an
Odynerus divides it, by means of clay par-
titions, into three or four chambers, which
become the cradles of as many larvae. A
second species uses the deserted nests of the
Pelopaeus;^ a third, removing the pith from

1 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chaps, i. to vii. — Trans-
lator's Note.

- Cf. Chapter III. of the present volume. — Translator's
Note.

The Mason-Wasps

a dry bramble-stem, obtains, for the use of
her family, a long sheath, which she sub-
divides into stories; a fourth bores a gallery
in the dead v/ood of some fig-tree; a fifth
digs herself a shaft in the soil of a foot-
path and surmounts it with a cylindrical,
vertical kerb. All these industries are
worth studying, but I should have preferred
to discover that which Reaumur and Dufour
have rendered famous.

On a steep bank of red clay, I at length
recognize, in no great profusion, the signs
of a village of Odyneri. Here are the
characteristic chimneys mentioned by the
two historians, that is to say, the curved
tubes, with their guilloche-work, that hang
at the entrance to the dwelling. The bank
is exposed to the heat of the noonday sun.
A little tumbledown wall surmounts it; be-
hind is a dense screen of pines. The whole
forms a warm refuge, such as the Wasp re-
quires for setting up house. Moreover,
we are now in the second fortnight of the
month of May, which is just the working-
season, according to the masters. The out-
side architecture, the site and the period all
agree with what Reaumur and Leon Dufour
have told us. Have I really chanced upon
one or other of their Odyneri? This re-
32

The Odyneri

mains to be seen and without delay. Not
one of the ingenious constructors of
guilloche porticoes shows herself, not one
arrives; I must wait. I take up my position
close by, to watch the homing insects.

Ah, how long the hours seem, spent mo-
tionless, under a burning sun, at the foot
of a declivity which sends the heat of an
oven beating down upon you ! Bull, my
inseparable companion, has retired some
distance into the shade, under a clump of
evergreen oaks. He has found a layer of
sand whose depths still retain some traces
of the last shower. He digs himself a bed;
and in the cool furrow the sybarite stretches
himself flat upon his belly. Lolling his
tongue and thrashing the boughs with his
tail, he keeps his soft, deep gaze fixed upon
me:

" What are you doing over there, you
booby, baking in the heat? Come here,
under the foliage; see how comfortable I
am!"

That is what I seem to read in my com-
panion's eyes.

"Oh, my Dog, my friend," I should
answer, if you could only understand, " man
is tormented by a desire for knowledge,
whereas your torments are confined to a de-

The Mason-Wasps

sire for bones and, from time to time, a de-
sire for your sweetheart! This, notwith-
standing our devoted friendship, creates
a certain difference between us, even though
people nowadays say that we are more or
less related, almost cousins. I feel the need
to know things and am content to bake in
the heat; you feel no such need and retire
into the cool shade."

Yes, the hours drag when you lie wait-
ing for an insect that does not come. In the
pinewood hard by, a couple of Hoopoes are
chasing each other with the amorous pro-
vocations of spring:

" Oopoopoo! " cries the cock, in a muf-
fled tone. " Oopoopoof "

Latin antiquity called the Hoopoe
Uptipa; Greek antiquity named it "Ettoi/',
But Pliny turned the e into ou and must
have pronounced the word Oupoupa, as the
cry imitated by the name teaches me to do.
Rarely have I received a lesson in Latin
pronunciation better authenticated than
yours, ^ you beautiful bird, who provide
a diversion for my long hours of weari-
ness. Faithful to your idiom, you say
"Oopoopoof " as you said in the days of

^ The French, it may hardly be necessary to explain,
pronounce Latin precisely as though it were French. —
Translator's Note.

The Odyneri

Aristotle and Pliny, as you said when your
note sounded for the first time. But our
own idioms, our primitive idioms, what has
become of them? The scholar cannot even
recover their traces. Man alters; animals
do not change.

At last, here we are at last! See, the
Odynerus arrives, with a flight as silent as
the Eumenes'. She disappears into the
curved cylinder of the vestibule, bringing
home a grub beneath her abdomen. I
place a small glass test-tube at the entrance
to the nest. When the insect emerges, it
will be caught. Done I The Wasp is
caught and at once decanted into the
asphyxiating-flask, with its strips of paper
steeped in bisulphide of carbon. And now,
my Dog, still lolling your tongue and frisk-
ing your tail, we can be off; the day has
not been wasted. We will come back to-
morrow.

Upon investigation, my Odynerus does
not correspond with what I expected to see.
This is not the species of which Reaumur
speaks (O. spinipcs); nor is it the species
studied by Dufour (O. Reaumiirii) ; it is
another. (O. reniformis, Latr.), a differ-
ent one, though addicted to the same arts.
Already the naturalist of the Landes had
35

The Mason-Wasps

allowed himself to be deceived by that
similarity in architecture, provisions and
habits; he thought that he was observing
Reaumur's Solitary Wasp, whereas in re-
ality his tube-builder presented specific dif-
ferences.

We know the worker; it remains for us
to become acquainted with her work. The
entrance to the nest opens in the perpend-
icular wall of the bank. It is a round hole,
on the edge of which is built a curved tube,
with the orifice turned downwards. Made
with the materials cleared from the burrow
under construction, this tubular vestibule is
composed of grains of earth, not arranged
in continuous courses, but leaving small
vacant intervals. It is a species of open-
work, a lacework of clay. Its length is
about an inch and its internal diameter a
fifth of an inch. This portico is continued
by the gallery, of the same diameter, which
slants into the soil to a depth of nearly six
inches. Here this main gallery branches
into short corridors, each giving access to a
cell which is independent of its neighbours.
Each larva has its chamber, which can be
reached by a special passage. I have
counted as many as ten of them; and there
may be more. These chambers have no-
36

The Odyneri

thing remarkable about them, either in con-
struction or in capacity; they are just cuts-
de-sac ending the corridors that give access
to them. Some are horizontal, some more
or less sloping; there is no fixed rule.
When a cell contains what it is meant to
contain, the egg and the provisions, the
Odynerus closes the entrance with a little
earthen lid; she then digs another near it,
on one side of the principal gallery.
Lastly, the common road to the cells is
blocked with earth; the tube at the entrance
is demolished, to furnish material for the
work done inside the nest; and every vestige
of the habitation disappears.

The surface of the bank is of clay baked
in the sun; it is almost brick. I break into
it with difficulty, making use of a small
pocket-trowel. Underneath, it is much less
hard.

How does the frail miner manage to
sink a gallery in this brick? She em-
ploys, I cannot doubt, the method described
by Reaumur. I will therefore reproduce a
passage from the master's writings, to give
my younger readers a glimpse into the
habits of the Odyneri, habits which my very
small colony did not enable me to observe in
all their details:

The Mason- Wasps

" It Is at the end of May that these
Wasps set to work; and one can see them
busily labouring during the whole of June.
Though their actual object is only to dig
in the sand a hole a few inches deep and not
much wider than their bodies, one might
suppose that they had another end in view;
for, to make this hole, they build on the out-
side a hollow tube, which has as its base
the circumference of the entrance to the
hole and which, after following a direction
perpendicular to the surface containing that
aperture, turns downwards. This tube be-
comes longer in proportion as the hole be-
comes deeper; it is built of the sand drawn
from the hole; it is fashioned in coarse
filigree, or a sort of guilloche. It is made
of big, granular, winding fillets, which do
not touch at all points. The gaps left in
between make it look as if it were artistic-
ally constructed, whereas it is only a sort of
scaffolding by means of which the mother's
tactics are rendered swifter and surer.

*' Though I knew these insects' two teeth
to be capital instruments, capable of break-
ing into very hard substances, the task which
they had to perform appeared to me rather
severe for them. The sand on which they
had to act was scarcely less hard than ordi-
38

The Odyneri

nary stone; at least, one's finger-nails made
but a poor impression upon its outer layer,
which the sun's rays had dried more thor-
oughly than the rest. But, when I suc-
ceeded in observing these workers at the
moment when they were beginning to bore
a hole, they taught me that they did not
need to subject their teeth to so harsh an
ordeal.

" I saw that the Wasp begins by soften-
ing the sand which she proposes to remove.
Her mouth discharges upon it a drop or
two of water, which is promptly swallowed
by the sand, turning it instantly into a soft
paste which her teeth scrape and remove
without difficulty. Two of her legs, the
foremost pair, immediately proceed to
gather it into a little pellet, about the size
of a currant-seed. It is with this pellet, the
first one removed, that the Wasp lays the
foundations of the tube which we have de-
scribed. She carries her pellet of mortar
to the edge of the hole which she has just
made by removing it; her teeth and feet
turn it about, flatten it and make it stand up
higher than it did before. This done, the
Wasp again sets about removing sand and
loads herself with another pellet of mortar.
Soon she contrives to have extracted enough
39

The Mason-Wasps

sand to make the entrance of the hole per-
ceptible and to have laid the foundation of
the tube.

" But the work can proceed quickly only
so long as the Wasp is able to moisten the
sand. She is obliged to take trouble to re-
new her store of water. I do not know
whether she simply went to take in water at
some stream, or whether she drew, from
some plant or fruit, a more sticky fluid;
what I do know is that she returned without
delay and set to work with renewed zeal.
I observed one Wasp who managed, in
about an hour, to sink a hole the length of
her body and who raised a chimney as tall
as the hole was deep. At the end of a few
hours the tube stood two inches high and
she was still deepening the hole that lay un-
derneath.

" It did not appear to me that she had
any rule respecting the depth which she
gives it. I have found some whose hole
ran more than four inches from the orifice;
others whose hole measured only two or
three inches. Again, over one hole you
will find a tube twice or three times as long
as that over another. Not all the mortar
removed from the hole is invariably em-
ployed to prolong it. In cases where the
40

The Odyneri

Wasp has given the tube a length which she
considers sufficient, you see her simply ar-
rive at the opening to the tube, put her
head beyond its edge and forthwith drop
her pellet, which falls to the ground. In
this way I have often observed a quantity
of rubbish at the foot of certain holes.

" The object for which the hole is pierced
in a solid mass of mortar or sand cannot
appear in doubt: it is plainly intended to re-
ceive an egg, together with a store of food-
stuffs. But we do not so easily see to what
end the mother has built the mortar shaft.
By continuing to follow her labours, we
shall discover that it means to her what a
stack of well-laid stones means to the
masons building a wall. Not the whole of
the tunnel which she has excavated is in-
tended as a lodging for the larva which will
be born inside; a portion will be quite
enough. Yet it was necessary that the hole
should be dug to a certain depth, in order
that the larva may not find itself exposed to
too great a heat when the sun's rays fall
on the outer layer of sand. It will occupy
only the end of the tunnel. The mother
knows what space she must leave vacant
and this space she retains; but she fills up
all the remainder and replaces in the upper
41

The Mason-Wasps

portion of the hole as much of the sand
removed from it as is necessary to stop it
up. It is to have this mortar within reach
that she has built that shaft. Once the egg
is laid and the store of victuals placed
within its reach, we see the mother come and
gnaw the end of the shaft, after first moist-
ening it, carry the pellet inside and next re-
turnfor more, in the same manner, until the
hole is blocked right up to the opening."

Reaumur goes on to speak of the victuals
heaped up in the cells, the " green grubs,"
as he calls them, heedless of the ugly al-
literation. Not having seen the same
things, because my Odynerus is of a differ-
ent species, I will continue my story. I
counted the head of game in three cells only:
the colony was a small one; I had to deal
tenderly with it if I would follow its history
to the end. In one of the cells, before the
provisions were broached, I counted twenty-
four pieces; in each of the two others, which
were likewise intact, I counted twenty-two.
Reaumur found only eight to twelve pieces
in the larder of his Odynerus; and Dufour,

1 Reaumur's actual words are "vers 'verts;" and Fabre
rightly complains of " the hideous assonance." — Trans-
lator's Note. ■

The Odyneri

in the store-room of his, discovered a batch
of ten to twelve. Mine requires twice as
many, a couple of dozen, which may be due
to the smaller size of the game. No
predatory Wasp of my acquaintance, apart
from the Bembeces,^ who obtain their sup-
plies from day to day, approaches this
prodigality in numbers. Two dozen grub-
worms to make a meal for only one ! How
far removed are we from the single cater-
pillar of the Hairy Ammophila I And
what delicate precautions must be taken for
the safety of the egg in the midst of such a
crowd! A scrupulous vigilance is neces-
sary here, if we would obtain a true con-
ception of the dangers to which the
Odynerus' egg is exposed and of the means
that save it from danger.

And, in the first place, what variety of
game is this? It consists of worms as thick
as a knitting-needle and varying slightly in
length. The biggest measure a centi-
metre.^ The head is small, of an intense,
glossy black. The segments, unlike those
of the caterpillars, have no legs, either true
or false, but all, without exception, are
furnished with ambulatory organs in the

1 For the Bembex cf. The Hunting fVasps: chaps, xiv.
to xvi. — Translator's Note.
2 .39 inch. — Translator's Note.
43

The Mason-Wasps

shape of a pair of small fleshy nipples.
These worms, though of the same species,
to judge by their general characteristics,
differ in colouring. They are a pale, yel-
lowish green, with two wide longitudinal
stripes of pale pink in some and of a more
or less deep green in others. Between
these two stripes, on the back, runs a streak
of pale yellow. The whole body is
sprinkled with little black tubercles, each
bearing a hair on its crest. The absence of
legs proves that they are not caterpillars,
not the larvae of Butterflies or Moths. Ac-
cording to Audouin's experiments, Reau-
mur's " green grubs " are the larvae of a
Weevil, Phytonomus variabilis, an inhabi-
tant of the lucerne-fields. Can my worms,
pink or green, also belong to some little
Weevil? It is quite possible.

Reaumur described the grubs composing
the victuals of his Odynerus as alive; he
tried to rear some, hoping to see a Fly or
a Beetle appear from them. Leon Dufour,
on his side, called them live caterpillars.
The mobility of the game provided escaped
neither of the two observers; they had be-
fore their eyes grubs that moved about and
gave full signs of life.

What th-ey saw I also see. My little

The Odyneri

larvae frisk and fidget; curled at first in the
shape of a ring, they uncurl themselves and
curl again, if I do no more than slowly turn
the small glass tube in which I have im-
prisoned them. When touched with the
point of a needle, they struggle abruptly.
Some succeed in shifting their position.
While engaged in rearing the Odynerus'
egg, I opened the cell lengthwise, so as to
reduce it to a semicylinder; in the little
trench thus made, which was kept horizon-
tal, I placed a few head of game. Next
day usually I found that one of them had
fallen out, a proof of movement, of a
change of position, even when nothing was
disturbing its repose.

These larvae, I am firmly convinced, have
been wounded by the Odynerus' sting, for
she would not carry a rapier merely for
show. Possessing a weapon, she employs
it. However, the wound is so slight that
Reaumur and Leoa Dufour did not suspect
its existence. To their mind the prey was
alive; to mine it is very nearly alive. In
these conditions we can see to what perils
the Odynerus' egg would be exposed but for
exquisitely prudent precautions. There they
are, those restless grubs, to the number of
two dozen in one cell, side by side with
45

The Mason-Wasps

the egg, which a mere nothing is enough to
endanger. By what means will this very-
delicate germ escape the perils of the
crowd?

As I foresaw by my process of reasoning,
the egg is slung from the ceiling of the cell.
A very short thread fastens it to the top
wall and lets it hang free in space. The
first time that I saw this egg, quivering at
the end of its thread at the least jerk and
confirming by its oscillations the correctness
of my theoretical views, I experienced one
of those moments of inward joy which atone
for much vexation and weariness. I was
to have many more such moments, as will
be seen. If we pursue our investigations in
the insect world with loving patience and a
practised eye, we always find some marvel
in store for us. The egg, I was saying,
swings from the ceiling, held by a very short
and extremely fine thread. The cell is
sometimes horizontal, sometimes slanting.
In the first case, the egg hangs perpendicu-
larly to the axis of the cell and its lower end
approaches to within a twelfth of an inch of
the opposite wall; in the second case, the
vertical direction of the egg forms a more
or less acute angle with that axis.

I wished to follow the progress of this
46

The Odyneri

hanging egg at my leisure, with the greater
convenience of observation which is possible
at home. With the egg of Eu7nenes Amadei
this was all but impracticable, because of the
cell, which could not be moved together
with the block that most often serves as its
foundation. A house of this kind demands
observation on the spot. The Odynerus'
dwelling does not present the same draw-
back. When a cell is laid bare and found
to be in the condition which I desire, I dig
round it with the point of a knife until I
detach a cylinder of earth containing the
cell, which is reduced to an open trough, so
as to conceal nothing of what is to happen
inside. The victuals are extracted piece-
meal, with every care, and decanted sepa-
rately into a glass tube. I shall thus
avoid the accidents that might be occasioned
by the swarming heap of grubs during the
inevitable shaking of the journey. The
egg alone remains, swinging in the empty
enclosure. A large tube receives the cyl-
inder of earth, which is wedged in position
with pads of cotton-wool. I place my
booty in a tin box and carry it in my hand
in such a position that the egg hangs vert-
ically without striking against the walls of
the cell.

The Mason-Wasps

Never have I effected a removal which
called for such nice precautions. An acci-
dental movement might easily break the
suspension-thread, which is so delicate that
it needs the magnifying-glass to distinguish
it; excessive oscillation might bruise the egg
against the walls of the cell: I had to be-
ware of turning it into a sort of bell-clapper
dashing against its bronze prison. I
walked, therefore, with the stiffness of an
automaton, all of one piece, with steps
methodically calculated. What a misfor-
tune should some acquaintance appear and
make me stop a moment, for a chat or a
shake of the hand: the least distraction on
my part would perhaps ruin my schemes!
Still more embarrassing would it be should
Bull, who cannot endure a black look, find
himself muzzle to muzzle with a rival and
try to get quits with him by flying at his
throat. I should have to put an end to the
fray, to avoid the scandal of a well-
brought-up Dog showing intolerance of the
village cur. The squabble would end in the
breakdown of all my experimental scaffold-
ing. And to think that the eager pre-
occupations of a person not entirely devoid
of sense may sometimes be dependent on a
Dog-fight !

The Odyneri

Lord be praised, the road is deserted!
The journey is accomplished without
hindrance; the thread, my great anxiety,
does not break; the egg is not bruised;
everything is in order. The little clod of
earth is put in a place of safety, with the
cell in a horizontal position. I distribute
near the egg two or three of the grubs which
I have collected; the complete allowance of
provisions would cause trouble, now that
the cell possesses only half its enclosing wall
and is reduced to a semicylinder. Two
days later, I find the egg hatched. The
young larva, yellow in colour, is hanging by
its hinder end, head downwards. It is busy
with its first grub, whose skin is already
growing limp. The suspension-cord con-
sists of the short thread that supported the
egg, with the addition of the slough, now
reduced to a sort of crumpled ribbon. In
order to remain sheathed in the end of this
hollow ribbon, the hinder end of the new-
born larva is at first slightly constricted and
then swells into a button. If I disturb it
while at rest, or if the victuals move, the
larva withdraws, shrinking back upon it-
self, but without retreating into the ascend-
ing-sheath, as does the Eumenes' larva.
The tethering-cord does not serve as a scab-

The Mason-Wasps

bard, as a refuge Into which the larva can
retire; it is rather an anchor-chain, which
gives it a purchase on the ceiling and
enables it to protect itself by shrinking to a
safe distance from the heap of victuals.
When things are quiet, the larva lengthens
out and returns to its grub. Thus do mat-
ters happen at the start, according to my
observations, of which some were made at
home, in my rearing-jars, and others on the
spot, when I unearthed cells containing a
larva young enough for my purpose.

The first grub is devoured in twenty-four
hours. The larva thereupon, so it seemed,
goes through a moult. For at least some
time it remains inactive and contracted;
then it releases itself from the cord. It is
now free, in contact with the heap of grubs
and henceforth unable to step out of the
way. The life-line has not lasted long; it
protected the egg and safeguarded its hatch-
ing; but the larva is still very weak and the
peril has not diminished. This means that
we shall discover other means of protection.

By a very strange exception, whereof so
far I know no other instance, the egg is laid
before the provisions are stored. I have
seen cells which as yet contained absolutely
nothing in the way of victuals and which
so

The Odyneri

nevertheless had the egg swinging from the
ceihng. I have seen others, also furnished
with the egg and so far containing only two
or three head of game, a first instalment of
the abundant dish of twenty-four. This
early egg-laying, so utterly unlike what hap-
pens in the case of the other predatory
Wasps, has its underlying motive, as we
shall see ; it has its logic at which we can-
not fail to marvel.

The egg, laid in the empty cell, is not
fixed at random on the first spot that offers
upon the enclosing wall, which is vacant at
all sides; it is hung near the far end, oppo-
site the entrance. Reaumur had already
noted this position of the budding larva, but
without insisting on a detail whose import-
ance he did not suspect :

" The grub," he says, " is born at the bot-
tom of the hole, that is, at the back of the
cell."

He does not speak of the egg, which he
does not appear to have seen. This posi-
tion of the grub was so well known to him
that, wishing to attempt the rearing of a
grub in a glass cell made with his own
hands, he placed the larva at the bottom
and the victuals on top of it.
SI

The Mason-Wasps

Why do I linger over a petty detail which
the famous historian of the Odyneri tells in
half-a-dozen words? A petty detail? It
is nothing of the kind; on the contrary, it is
a circumstance of paramount importance.
And this is why: the egg is laid at the back,
necessitating an empty cell which will be
victualled after the egg is laid. The
provisions are now stored, piece by piece,
layer upon layer, in front of the egg; the
cell is crammed with game right up to the
entrance, which in the end is sealed.

Of all these pieces, the obtaining of
which may take several days, which are the
earliest in point of date? Those nearest
the egg. Which are the latest? Those by
the entrance. Now it is obvious — be-
sides, it may be proved, if necessary, by di-
rect observation — it is obvious, I say, that
the heaped worms lose strength from day
to day. The effects of a prolonged fast
would be enough to produce this result, to
say nothing of the disorders due to a wound
which becomes worse as time goes on. The
larva born at the back of the cell has there-
fore beside it, in its first youth, the less
dangerous provisions, the oldest in date and
consequently the feeblest. As it works its
way through the heap, it finds more recent
52

The Odyneri

game, which is also more vigorous; but this
is attacked without danger, because the
larva's own strength has come.

This progress from the more to the less
nearly mortified victims presumes that the
grubs do not disturb the order in which they
have been stacked. That in fact is what
happens. Former historians of the Ody-
neri have all remarked that the grubs pro-
vided for the larva are curled in the shape
of a ring:

'* The cell," says Reaumur, " was occu-
pied by green rings, to the number of eight
or twelve. Each of these rings consisted
of a vermiform larva, alive, curled up and
with its back fitting exactly against the wall
of the hole. These grubs, laid in this way
one on top of the other and even pressed
together, had no liberty of movement."

I, in my turn, remark similar facts in my
two dozen grub-worms. They are curled
in a ring; they are stacked one upon an-
other, but with a certain confusion in the
ranks; their backs touch the wall. I will
not attribute this circular curve to the effect
of the sting which was very probably ad-
ministered, for I have never observed it in
53

The Mason-Wasps

the caterpillars stabbed by the Ammophilae;
I believe rather that the position is natural
to the grub during inaction, even as it is
natural for the luli ^ to coil themselves into
a spiral. In this living bracelet there is a
tendency to return to the rectilinear conform-
ation; it is a bent bow fighting against the
obstacle that surrounds it. By the very
fact, therefore, of being curled up, each
grub keeps more or less steady by pressing
its back a little against the wall; and it re-
tains its place even when the cell approaches
the vertical.

Moreover, the shape of the cell has been
calculated with a view to this manner of
storing. In the part next the entrance, the
part which one might call the store-room,
the cell is cylindrical and narrow, so as to
afford the living rings as little space as pos-
sible; they are thus kept in position and are
unable to slip. It is here that the grubs are
stacked, squeezed one against the other.
At the other end, near the back, the cell
expands into an ovoid to give the larva
elbow-room. The differences between the
two diameters is very perceptible. At the
entrance I find only four millimetres : ^ at

* The lulus belongs to the Myriapod family, which in-
cludes the Centipedes, etc. — Translator's Note.
2 .156 inch. — Translator's Note.
54

The Odyneri

the back I find six.^ Thanks to this in-
equality of width, the cell comprises two
apartments: the provision-store in front and
the dining-room behind. The Eumenes'
spacious cupola does not permit of this ar-
rangement; there the game is heaped up in
disorder, the oldest in date promiscuously
with the most recent; and each piece is
merely bent, not rolled. The ascending-
sheath provides a remedy for the disad-
vantages of this confusion.

Note also that the packing of the victuals
is not the same from one end of the
Odynerus' skewerful to the other. In the
cells whose provisions have not yet or have
only recently been broached, I observe this
detail: near the egg or the newly-hatched
larva, in the part which I have just described
as the dining-room, the space is not fully
occupied; there are just a few grubs here,
three or four, somewhat isolated from the
bulk and leaving enough room to ensure the
safety of either the egg or the young larva.
This is the food supplied for the early
meals. If there be danger in the first
mouthfuls, which are the most risky of all,
the life-line provides a means of with-
drawal. More towards the front, the game

1 .234 inch. — Translator's Note.

The Mason-Wasps

is piled in close-packed layers, the stack of
worms is continuous.

Will the larva, now that it possesses
a modicum of strength, force itself im-
prudently into this heap? Far from it.
The victuals are consumed in doe order,
from the bottommost to the topmost. The
larva drags towards it, to a little distance,
into the dining-room, the first ring that
offers, devours it without danger of being
inconvenienced by the others and thus, layer
by layer, consumes the batch of two dozen,
always in complete security.

Let us retrace our steps and end with
a brief summary. The large number of
grubs provided for a single cell and their
very incomplete paralysis jeopardize the
security of the Wasp's egg and of her new-
born larva. How is the danger to be
averted? This is the problem; and it has
several solutions. The Eumenes, with her
sheath, which enables the larva to climb
back to the celling, gives us one; the
Odynerus, in her turn, gives us hers, a solu-
tion no less ingenious and much more
complicated.

The egg and also the newly-hatched larva
have to be saved from the danger of contact
with the game. A suspension-thread solves
56

The Odyneri

the difficulty. Up to this point, that is the
method adopted by the Eumenes; but soon
the young larva, having eaten its first grub,
drops off the thread that gave it a support
whereby to shrink out of harm's way. A
sequence of conditions now begins, all di-
rected towards its welfare.

Prudence demands that the very young
larva shall first attack the most inoffensive
of the grubs, that is those most nearly
deadened by abstinence, in short, the grubs
first placed in the cell; it demands, more-
over, that the consumption of these grubs
shall proceed from the oldest specimens to
the most recent, so that the larva may have
fresh game to the end. With this object, a
curious exception is made to the general
rule: the egg is laid before the victualling is
commenced. It is laid at the back of the
cell; in this way, the stacked provisions will
present themselves to the larva in due order
of date.

That Is not enough: it is important that
the grubs shall be unable, in moving, to alter
their respective positions. This circum-
stance is provided for: the store-room is a
narrow cylinder in which change of place is
difficult.

Even that is not sufficient: the larva must
57 •

The Mason-Wasps

have room enough to move about at ease.
The condition is fulfilled: at the back, the
cell forms a comparatively spacious dining-
room:

Is that all? Not yet. The dining-
room must not be encumbered like the rest
of the cell. The matter has been seen to :
the first course consists of a small number
of specimens.

Have we done? By no means. It is
not of any use to have a narrow cylinder for
the larder: if the grubs straighten out, they
will slip lengthwise and disturb the nurse-
ling in the back-room. This has been
remedied: the game selected is a larva
which deliberately rolls itself into a bracelet
and maintains its position by its own tendency
to unbend.

It is by the Ingenious removal of this
series of difiiculties that the Odynerus suc-
ceeds in leaving a family. We have seen
enough of her exquisite foresight to amaze
us. What would it be were nothing to re-
main concealed from our dull eyes!

Can the insect have acquired its skill
gradually, from generation to generation,
by a long series of casual experiments, of
blind gropings? Can such order be born
of chaos; such foresight of hazard; such
S8

The Odyneri

wisdom of stupidity? Is the world subject
to the fatalities of evolution, from the first
albuminous atom which coagulated into a
cell, or is it ruled by an Intelligence? The
more I see and the more I observe, the more
does this Intelligence shine behind the mys-
tery of things. I know that I shall not fail
to be treated as an abominable " final
causer." Little do I care! A sure sign of
being right in the future is to be out of
fashion in the present.

CHAPTER III

THE PELOP.EU'S

/^F the several insects that elect to make
^"'^ their home in our houses, certainly the
most interesting, for the beauty of its shape,
the singularity of its manners and the
structure of its nests, is the Pelopseus, a
Wasp hardly known even to the people
whose fireside she frequents. Her solitary
habits and her peaceful occupation of the
premises explain why history is silent in her
regard. She is so extremely retiring that her
host is nearly always ignorant of her
presence. Fame is for the noisy, the im-
portunate, the noxious. Let us try to
rescue the modest creature from oblivion.
An extremely chilly mortal, the Pelopaeus
pitches her tent under the kindly sun which
ripens the olive and prompts the Cicada's
song; and even then she needs for her
family the additional warmth furnished by
our dwellings. Her usual refuge is the
peasant's lonely cottage, with its old fig-tree
shading the well in front of the door. She
60

The Pelopaeus

chooses one exposed to all the heat of sum-
mer and, if possible, boasting a capacious
fireplace in which a fire of sticks is fre-
quently renewed. The cheerful blaze on
winter evenings, when the sacred yule-log
burns upon the hearth, is largely responsible
for her choice, for the insect knows by the
blackness of the chimney that the spot is a
likely one. A chimney that is not well
glazed by smoke does not inspire her with
confidence: people must shiver with cold in
that house.

During the dog-days in July and August,
the visitor suddenly appears, seeking a place
for her nest. She is In no wise disturbed by
the bustle and movement of the household:
they take no notice of her nor she of them.
Spasmodically she examines, now with her
sharp eyes, now with her sensitive antennae,
the corners of the blackened ceiling, the
angles of the rafters, the chimneypiece, the
sides of the fireplace in particular and even
the interior of the flue. Having finished
her inspection and duly approved of the site,
she flies away, soon to return with the little
pellet of mud which will form the first layer
of the edifice.

The spot which she adopts varies greatly;
often it is an extremely curious one, the one
6i

The Mason-Wasps

positive condition being that the temper-
ature should be mild and equable. A
furnace heat appears to suit the Pelopaeus'
larvae; at least, the favourite place is the
chimney, on either side of the flue, up to a
height of twenty inches or so. This snug
shelter has its drawbacks. The smoke gets
to the nests, especially during the winter,
when fires are going all day, and gives them
a glaze of brown or black similar to that
which covers the stonework. They are so
like it in appearance that they might well be
taken for inequalities in the mortar which
have been overlooked by the trowel. This
swarthy distempering is not a serious mat-
ter, provided that the flames do not lick
against the cluster of cells. That would
ensure the destruction of the larvae, stewed
to death in their clay pots. But this danger
appears to be foreseen; and the Pelopaeus
entrusts her family only to chimneys which
are too wide for anything but smoke to
reach their sides; she is suspicious of the
narrow ones which allow the flames to fill
the whole entrance to the flue.

In spite of her caution, one peril remains.
While the nest is building, at a moment
when the Wasp, urged by the need for lay-
ing her eggs, cannot bring herself to cease
62

The Pelopaeus

working, it sometimes happens that the ap-
proach to the dwelling is barred to her for
a time, or even for the whole day, either
by a curtain of steam rising from a stew-
pan or by clouds of smoke resulting from
damp firewood. Washing-days are the
most risky. From morning to night, the
housewife keeps the huge cauldron boiling
with all the odds and ends of the wood-shed :
chips, bits of bark, leaves, fuel that burns
with difficulty and intermittently. The
smoke from the hearth, the steam from the
cauldron and the reek from the wash-tub
form in front of the fireplace a dense mist
with very few rifts in it. I have at rare
intervals surprised the Pelopacus in the
presence of some such obstacle.

It is told of the Water-ouzel, the Dipper,
that, to get back to his nest, he will fly
through the cataract under a mill-weir.
The Pelopceus is even more daring: with
her pellet of mud in her teeth, she crosses
the cloud of smoke and disappears behind
it, henceforth invisible, so thick is the
screen. A spasmodic chirring, her work-
ing-song, alone betrays the mason at her
task. The building rises mysteriously be-
hind the cloud. The ditty ceases and the
Wasp emerges from the steam-flakes, fit
63

The Mason-Wasps

and well, as though coming out of a limpid
atmosphere. She has faced the fire, hke
the fabled Salamander, and she will face it
all day, until the cell is built, crammed with
victuals and closed.

Cases of this kind occur too seldom to
satisfy fully the curiosity of a seasoned ob-
server. I should have liked to arrange the
mist-screen myself and thus to try a few
experiments bearing upon the dangerous
crossing; but I was a stranger, a spectator
by sheer chance; and all that I could do was
to trust to luck, without interfering with the
washing-operations and perhaps upsetting
them. What a sorry idea the housewife
engaged on that grave business would have
had of my intelligence if I had ventured to
touch her fire in order to worry a Wasp !

"Va phan cihicle: little things please
little minds," she would have been sure to
think.

In the eyes of the peasant, to occupy one's
self with such small fry is a lunatic's game,
the amusement of a cracked mind.

Once and once only fortune smiled upon
me; but I was not ready to profit by it.
The thing took place at my own house, by
my own fireside and, as it happened, on a
Vv'ashing-day. I had not long been ap-
64

The Pelopaeus

pointed to the Avignon grammar-school.
It was close upon two o'clock; and in a few
minutes the roll of the drum would summon
me to display the properties of the Leyden
jar to an audience of wool-gatherers. I
was preparing to start, when I saw a
strange, agile insect, with a slender body
and a gourd-shaped abdomen slung at the
end of a long thread, dart through the reek
rising from the wash-tub. It was the
Pelopaeus, whom I saw for the first time
with observant eyes. A novice still and
anxious to become better-acquainted with
my visitor, I fervently commended the in-
sect to the watchful care of the household,
begging them not to disturb it in my absence
and to manage the fire in such a way as not
to inconvenience it in its plucky work of
building the walls of its nest right beside
the flame. My wishes were carried out
religiously.

Things went better than I dared hope.
On my return, the Pelopaeus was continuing
her mason's work behind the steam of the
wash-tub, which stood under the mantel of
a wide chimney. Eager as I was to witness
the construction of the cells, to identify the
nature of the provisions, to follow the
evolution of the larvas, all of them
65

The Mason-Wasps

biological details entirely new to me, I took
good care not to raise the experimental ob-
stacles which I should not fail to set in the
path of instinct to-day: a good nest was the
sole object that I coveted. Therefore, so
far from creating fresh difficulties for the
Pelopaeus, I did my utmost to reduce those
which she had to overcome. I raked the
fire, making it much smaller, so as to de-
crease the volume of smoke in the Wasp's
building-yard; and for a good two hours
I watched her diving through the cloud.
Next day, the usual niggardly fire was burn-
ing intermittently; and there was nothing
now to hamper the Pelopaeus, who con-
tinued her work for some days and without
further impediment completed the well-
filled nest which was the object of my
wishes.

Never again, in the forty years that fol-
lowed, was my fireplace honoured with such
a visit; and it was only by having recourse
to the more fortunate hearths of my neigh-
bours that I was able to glean my little bit
of information. Nor was it until much
later that, profiting by long experience, I
had the idea of turning to account the
predilection of so many Bees and Wasps
for their birthplace and for founding a
66

The PelopaBus

family in the neighbourhood of the nest
where they receive perhaps the strongest of
all impressions, the first dawn of light. I
took Pelopaeus-nests which I had collected
more or less everywhere during the winter
and fixed them in different places, in my
present house, which, judging by the sum
total of my observations, I considered suit-
able, notably at the entrance to the chimney
both of the kitchen and of the study. I put
some in the embrasures of the windows,
keeping the outside shutters closed to obtain
the requisite sultriness; I stuck some to the
dimly-lighted corners of the ceilings. It
was in these sites of my choosing that the
new generation was to hatch when summer
came; it was here that it would settle:
at least I thought so. Then I could ha\e
conducted in my own way the experiments
which I had in mind.

My attempts invariably failed. Not one
of my charges returned to the native nest;
the less fickle of them contented themselves
with brief visits, soon followed by a de-
parture for good. The Pelopaeus, it ap-
pears, is of a solitary and vagrant disposi-
tion: save in exceptionally favourable cir-
cumstances, she builds a lonely nest and is
quite ready to change her locality from
67

The Mason-Wasps

generation to generation. As a matter of
fact, though this Wasp is fairly com-
mon in my village, her dwellings are
nearly always scattered one by one,
with no traces of any old nests near
by. The place of her birth leaves no
lasting recollection in the nomad's memory;
and none comes to build beside the ruins of
the maternal home.

For that matter, my want of success
might well be due to another cause. The
Pelopaeus certainly is not rare in our south-
ern towns; nevertheless she prefers the
peasant's smoky house to the townsman's
white villa. Nowhere have I seen her so
plentiful as in my village, with its tumble-
down cottages guiltless of rough-cast and
burnt yellow by the sun. My hermitage is
not quite so rustic as that: it is a little neater
and cleaner; and there is nothing to show
that my visitors did not forsake my kitchen
and my study, both too sumptuous in their
opinion, to go and settle somewhere near in
lodgings more to their taste. And so the
eagerly desired colonists, who were to have
peopled my workroom crammed with books,
plants, fossils and entomological cemeteries,
took their departure, scorning all that scien-
tific luxury; they went away in search of some
68

The Pelopaeus

dim chamber with a soHtary window sport-
ing a sprig of wall-flower in an old, cracked
stew-pot. Felicities like that are reserved
for the humble; and I am therefore reduced
to what I have gained by an occasional piece
of good luck, irrespective of any efforts of
mine. The little that I have seen, in one
direction and another, is after all sufficient
evidence of the pluck of the Pelopseus, who,
to reach her nest built in a corner of the
hearth, at times passes through a cloud of
steam and smoke. Would she dare to
cross a thin sheet of flame? That was
what I had proposed to see, if my attempts
to acclimatize her in my home had met with
any success.

It is obvious that, in displaying a marked
predilection for the chimney as her abode,
the Pelopsus is not seeking her own com-
fort : the site chosen means w^ork and
dangerous work. She seeks the welfare of
her family. This family then, in order to
prosper, must require a high temperature,
such as is not demanded by the other Wasps
or Bees, the Chalicodoma and the Osmia,
for instance, who find sufficient shelter
under a mortar dome or in the hollow of an
exposed reed. Let us see what tempera-
ture the Pelopaeus finds to her liking.
69

The Mason- Wasps

On the side-wall, under the chimneypiece,
I hung a thermometer over a Pelopaeus-
nest. During an hour's observation, with
a fire giving out a moderate heat, it fluctu-
ated between 95° and 105° F. This tem-
perature, it is true, does not remain the
same during the long larval period; on the
contrary, it varies greatly, according to the
season of the year and the time of day. I
wanted something better and I found it on
two occasions.

My first observation was made in the
engine-room of a silk-factory. The back
of the boiler reached nearly to the ceiling,
the space between being barely twenty
inches. It was against this ceiling, right
above the huge cauldron, which was always
full of water and steam at a high tem-
perature, that the Pelopaeus-nest was fixed.
At this spot the thermometer marked 120°.
This degree of heat was maintained all
through the year; it was only at night and
on holidays that it decreased.

A country distillery furnished me with
the second subject of observation. It
combined two excellent conditions for at-
tracting Pelopaei : rural quiet and the heat
of a furnace. The nests therefore were
numerous, fixed more or less everywhere on
70

The Pelopaeus

anything* that came to hand, even down to
the pile of account-books in which the ex-
cisemen registered their troublesome in-
spections of the proof-spirit. One of these,
situated quite close to the still, was tested
with the thermometer. It measured 113°
of heat.

These few data prove that the larvae of
the Pelopzeus are comfortable in a tempera-
ture of a hundred degrees or over, a tem-
perature not accidental, like that produced
by a fire blazing in a chimney, but con-
stant, such as obtained by a boiler or a still.
Tropical heat is favourable to the grub
slumbering for ten months in its mud hole.
Any seed, in order to sprout, needs a cer-
tain quantum of heat, greater or smaller
according to its kind. The larva, a sort
of animal seed out of which the perfect in-
sect will come by a process of germination
even more wonderful than that which turns
an acorn into an oak, the larva also claims
its quantum of heat. The larva of the
Pelopaeus can cheerfully endure a temper-
ature that makes the baobab or the oily
palm-tree sprout. What then is the origin
of this chilly tribe?

A good fire on the hearth, a boiler or
a furnace shedding an artificial tropical
71

The Mason-Wasps

climate around them are useful windfalls,
which, however, cannot be relied upon; and
the Pelopaeus settles in any lodging where
she finds warmth and not too garish a light.
The corners of a conservatory; a kitchen-
ceiling; the embrasure of a window with
closed casement and shutters, provided that
these furnish some exit-hole; the rafters of
a loft, where the warmth of the daily quota
of sunshine is preserved by the heaped-up
hay and straw; the walls of a cottage bed-
room : any of these suit her, so long as the
larvae find a snug shelter in winter. This
climatological expert, the daughter of the
dog-days, divines the coming peril for her
family, that inclement season which she her-
self will never see.

While she is scrupulous in her choice of
a warm spot, on the other hand she is
supremely indifferent to the nature of the
foundation on which the nest is to be
fastened. As a rule, she fixes her groups
of cells to the stonework, whether rough-
coated or not, and to the timber, whether
bare or plastered; but she uses many other
supports, some of which are very peculiar.
Let us mention a few of these fantastic
installations.

My notes speak of a nest constructed in-
72

The Pelopaeus

side a gourd standing on the mantelpiece of
a farm-kitchen. In this narrow-mouthed
receptacle the farmer used to keep his shot.
As the orifice was always open and the
utensil not employed at that time of year,
a Pelopaeus had found that the peaceful re-
treat suited her and had gone to the length
of building on the layer of small-shot. The
gourd had to be broken to extract the bulky
edifice.

The same notes tell me of nests built
against the pile of account-books in a dis-
tillery; in a fur cap relegated to the wall
until the return of winter; in the hollow of
a brick, back to back with the downy
structure of a Cotton-bee; on the sides of a
bag of oats; in a piece of lead tubing broken
off from an old water-pipe.

I saw something more remarkable still
in the kitchen at Roberty, one of the biggest
farms near Avignon. It was a large room
with a very wide fireplace, in which the soup
for the farm-hands and the food for the
cattle were simmering in a row of pots and
pans. The labourers used to come in from
the fields so many at a time, take their seats
on benches round the table and devour the
portions served to them, with the silent
haste that denotes a keen appetite. To en-
7Z

The Mason-Wasps

joy this half-hour of comfort, they would
take off their hats and smocks and hang
them on pegs on the wall. Short though
the meal was, it lasted long enough to allow
the Pelopaei to inspect the garments and
take possession of them. The inside of a
straw hat was recognized as a most useful
retreat; the folds of a smock were looked
upon as a shelter which could be turned to
excellent account; and the work of building
started forthwith. On rising from table,
one of the men would shake his smock, an-
other his hat, to rid it of a heap of mud
that was already the size of an acorn.

When the labourers had gone, I had a
talk with the cook. She told me of her
tribulations: those impudent Bugs were all
over the place, dirtying everything with
their filth. She was chiefly concerned about
the window-curtains. Dabs of mud on the
ceiling, on the walls, on the chimneypiece
you could put up with; but it was a very
different matter when you found them on
the linen and the curtains. To keep the
curtains clean and dislodge the wretched
things who persisted in bringing in their bits
of mud, she had to shake them every day,
to beat them with a bamboo. And it was
all no use: next morning, work was resumed
74

The Pelopaeus

with equal vigour on the buildings destroyed
the day before.

I sympathized with her sorrows, while
greatly regretting that I could not myself
take charge of the place. How gladly I
would have left the Pelopaei undisturbed,
though they covered every scrap of up-
holstery with mud; how willingly I would
have let them have their way, so that I
might learn what prospects there are for a
nest if perched on the shifting support of a
coat or a curtain! The Mason-bee of the
Shrubs,^ heedless of the storm, builds on a
twig; but her edifice, constructed of hard
mortar, envelops the support, surrounds it
on every side and becomes firmly fixed to
it. The nest of the Pelopaeus is a mere
blob of mud, fastened to its support without
any special adhesive preparation. It has
no hydraulic cement which sets as soon as
used, no foundations welded to the support-
ing base. How can such a method give
proper stability? The nests which I find on
the coarse canvas of corn-bags come off at
the least shake, though the rough mesh of
the stuff makes it easier for them to stick
on : what will happen when the nests are
placed on a piece of fine calico hanging

1 Cf. The Mason-bees: chap. x. — Translator's Note.
75

The Mason-Wasps

perpendicularly and often flicked about, if
only by the draught? To build on that
strikes me as an aberration of instinct on
the part of the architect, who has not yet
learnt, in spite of the long lesson of the
ages, how perilous are certain sites in
human habitations.

Let us leave the constructor and occupy
ourselves with the structure. The ma-
terials consist exclusively of wet earth, mud
or dirt, picked up wherever the soil pos-
sesses the proper degree of humidity.
When there is a stream in the neighbour-
hood, the thin clay of the banks is turned to
account. But cement-works of this sort are
rare or too far off in my stony region; and
it is not in such a building-yard that I most
frequently witness the gathering of the
materials. I can watch the performance at
my leisure without leaving my own garden.
When a thin trickle of water runs from
morning till evening in the Httle trenches cut
in the vegetable-plots, a few Pelopaei,
visitors to the neighbouring farms, soon get
wind of the glad event. They come hurry-
ing up to take advantage of the precious
layer of mud, a rare discovery in this dis-
tressing time of drought. One selects a
recently-watered furrow, another prefers to
ye

The Pelopaeus

keep on the bank and settle in a work-
yard moistened by capillary action. They
scrape and skim the gleaming, slimy surface
with their mandibles while standing high
on their legs, with wings aquiver and their
black abdomen upraised on its yellow
pedicel. No neat little housewife, with
skirts carefully tucked out of the dirt, could
be more adept in tackling a job so pre-
judicial to the cleanliness of her clothes.
These mud-gatherers have not an atom of
soil upon them, so careful are they to tuck
up their skirts in their fashion, that is to say,
to keep their whole body out of the way,
all but the tips of their legs and the busy
points of their mandibles. In this manner
a dab of mud is collected, almost the size of
a pea. Taking the load in its teeth, the
insect flies off, adds a layer to its building
and soon returns to collect another pellet.
The same work is pursued as long as the
earth remains sufficiently wet, during the
hottest hours of the day, for there is always
some builder looking about for mortar.

But the most frequented spot is in front of
the great fountain in the village. Here
there is a large trough where the people
round about come to water their Mules.
The constant trampling of the heavily-laden

The Mason- Wasps

quadrupeds and the overflow of the water
create a perpetual sheet of black mud
which neither the heat of July nor the
mighty blast of the mistral succeeds in dry-
ing. This bed of mire, so unpleasant for
the passers-by, is beloved of the Pelopaei,
who meet there from every part of the
neighbourhood. You seldom pass before
the noisome puddle without seeing some of
them gathering their pellets amid the hoofs
of the Mules slaking their thirst.

The places exploited are enough in them-
selves to tell us that the mortar is collected
ready-made, fit for immediate use without
any further preparation than a vigorous
kneading which gets rid of the lumps and
makes the whole into a homogeneous mass.
Other builders in clay, the Mason-bees, for
Instance, scrape up the dust on the highway
and moisten it with saliva to convert it into
a plastic material which will harden like
stone by virtue of certain chemical proper-
ties of the salivary fluid. They set to work
like the bricklayer, who mixes his mortar
and his plaster by adding water in small
quantities. The Pelopaeus does not prac-
tise this art; the secret of chemical action is
denied her; and the mud is employed just as
it is picked up.

The Pelopaeus

To make sure of this, I stole a few pellets
from the busy collectors and, on comparing
them with other pellets gathered in the same
place and rolled by my own fingers, found
no difference between them in appearance
or in properties. The result of this com-
parison is confirmed by an examination of
the nest. The structures of the Chali-
codomiE are solid masonry, capable of re-
sisting without any protection the prolonged
action of rain and snow; those of the
Pelopsi are flimsy work, devoid of cohesion
and absolutely unfitted to withstand the
vicissitudes of the open air. A drop of
water laid upon their surface softens the
spot touched and reduces it to mud again,
while a sprinkling equal to an average
shower turns it into pap. They are nothing
more than dried slime and become slime
again as soon as they arc wetted.

The thing is obvious: the Wasp does not
improve the mud to make it into mortar;
she uses it as it is. It is no less obvious
that nests of this sort are not made for
out-of-doors, even if the larva were not of
such a chilly humour. A shelter that keeps
them under cover is indispensable, other-
wise they would go to pieces at the first
shower of rain. This explains, apart alto-
79

The Mason-Wasps

gether from questions of temperature, why
the Pelopasus has a preference for human
habitations, which afford the best protection
against damp. Under the mantels of our
chimneys she finds at one and the same time
the heat required by the larvae and the
necessary dryness for the nests.

Before receiving its final coating, which
conceals the structural details, the
Pelopasus' edifice does not lack elegance.
It consists of a cluster of cells, sometimes
arranged side by side in one row — which
gives the fabric something of the look of a
mouth-organ with reeds all short and all
alike in size — but more often grouped in
a varying number of layers placed one
above the other. In the most populous
nests I count as many as fifteen cells; others
contain only about ten; others again are re-
duced to three or four, or even to one alone.
The first appear to me to represent a mo-
ther's whole output of eggs; the second sig^
nify incomplete layings, deposited here and
there, perhaps because better sites were
found elsewhere.

The cells are not far removed from the
cylindrical shape, with a diameter increas-
ing slightly from the mouth to the base.
80

The Pelopaeus

They measure three centimetres* in length,
their breadth where they are widest being
about fifteen millimetres.^ Their delicate
surface, carefully polished, shows a series of
stringy projections, running obliquely, not
altogether unlike the twisted cords of certain
kinds of gold-lace. Each of these strings
is a layer of the edifice; it comes from the
clod of mud employed on the coping of the
part already built. By numbering them
one can tell how many journeys the Pe-
lopiuus has taken to her mortar. I count
between fifteen and twenty. For one cell,
therefore, the industrious builder fetches
materials something like twenty times and
perhaps even oftener, for one of these cush-
ions of mud is not always, so it seems to
me, completed in a single spell of work.

The main axis of the cells is horizontal, or
not far removed from it; the mouth is al-
ways turned upwards. And this must
needs be so : a pot cannot hold its contents
save on condition that it be not upside down.
The Pelopaeus' cell is nothing more than a
pot destined to receive the preserved food-
stuffs, a pile of small Spiders. When laid

1 1. 17 inch. — Translator's Note.

2 .58 inch. — Translator's Note.

The Mason-Wasps

horizontally or slanting a little upwards,
the receptacle holds its contents; but with
the mouth turned downwards it would lose
them. I have lingered a moment over this
petty detail to call attention to a curious mis-
take current in the text-books. Wherever
I find a drawing of a Pelopaeus-nest, I see
it with the orifices of the cells facing down-
wards. The illustrations go on and on: to-
day's reproduces yesterday's absurdity. I
do not know who was the first to perpetrate
this blunder and to think of subjecting the
Pelopaeus to a task no less arduous than that
of the vessel of the Danaides: to fill a pot
turned upside down.

Built one by one, stuffed full of Spiders
and closed as and when the laying demands
it, the cells retain their elegant exterior un-
til the cluster is deemed large enough.
Then, to strengthen her work, the Pe-
lopaeus covers the whole with a defensive
casing; she lays on the plaster with an un-
sparing trowel, without artistry or any of
those delicate and patient finishing-touches
which she lavishes upon the work of the
cells. The pellet is applied just as it is
brought and merely spread with a few care-
less strokes of the mandibles. Thus the
original beauties of the structure — the

The Pelopasus

flutings between the cells sat back to back,
the corded cushions, the polished stucco —
all disappear under a forbidding husk. In
this final state, the nest is nothing more than
a shapeless protuberance; one would take it
for a great splash of mud that had been
flung against the wall by accident and dried
there.

We find similar methods among the
ChalicodomsE. The best mason among
them, after she has erected her cells on a
pebble, building them in the form of turrets
daintily encrusted with bits of gravel, buries
her artistic work under a clumsy plaster.
Why do they both give this finish and devote
such fastidious care to the frontage, when
the masterpiece is doomed to disappear, de-
luged in mortar? We do not build a
Louvre and then abandon its colonnades to
the unclean trowel. But we must not press
the analogy too far. What do insects care
about the beauty or ugliness of an edifice,
provided that the larva be comfortably
housed? With them we must be prepared
for all the inconsistencies of the unconscious
artist.

CHAPTER IV

THE AGENI^; THE PELOP^US'
VICTUALS

JUDGING only by instincts and habits,
^ a characteristic superior to all others, we
must rank not far below the builder whose
nest we have been considering certain other
Wasps of our country-side, Spider-hunters
like the first and, like her, worthy, or per-
haps even more worthy, of the title of
n?;Ao7roio9, a worker in clay or mud, a potter.
My district possesses two of these ceramic
artists: Agenia ptinctum, Panz., and A.
hyalipennis, Zetterstedt.

With all their talent they are very frail
creatures, clad in black and hardly larger
than the ordinary Gnat. Their pottery
amazes us when we remember the feeble-
ness of the artisan. It surprises us even
more by its regularity, which may be com-
pared with the product of the turning-lathe.
Adhering broadly to a flat base and leaning
one against the other, the Pelopaeus' cells,
in the full elegance of the first phase, are
84

The Ageniae

merely semicylinders whose circular con-
tour is accentuated only at the mouth; while
those of the Ageniae, which are almost
isolated from one another and take hold of
their support only at a restricted spot, re-
tain from end to end a regular convexity,
suggesting the tiny pots of a miniature set
of crockery. If any one deserves the
epithet of spirifex, or turner, it is the
Agenia rather than the Pelopaeus. No other
manipulator of potter's clay possesses her
dexterity.

The pots of A. punctitm are shaped like
oval jars, each smaller than a cherry-stone.
Those of A. hyalipenn'is affect a conoid
form, narrow at the base and wider at the
mouth, like the primitive drinking-cup, the
cyathus of the ancients. Both have a pol-
ished interior and a very much granulated
exterior, the maker allowing the little
mouthful of mortar which she has brought
to project outside, without seeking to level
it, as she does so carefully upon the inner
wall. These granulations are the equiva-
lent of the slanting fillets left by the Pelo-
pzeus. No rough-cast, no plaster is applied
to conceal the pretty bit of earthenware; no
reinforcement of casing is added. Such as it
was when the potter moulded the neck, such
85

The Mason-Wasps

it remains after it has received its lid and
its Httle Spider with an egg laid upon her
side. The Agenia's urns then, notwith-
standing their brittleness, are left entirely
unprotected, whether they be placed end to
end in a winding row or grouped in a con-
fused cluster.

Nevertheless, the mother displays a pre-
caution unknown to the Pelopseus. A drop
of water placed inside the latter's cell
quickly spreads and disappears, soaking the
walls. In an Agenia's cell it remains at the
point touched, without penetrating the
thickness. The urn therefore is glazed on
the inner surface, like our ordinary pots,
which are made watertight by the silicate
of lead furnished by the potter's galena.
The waterproofing employed cannot be
other than the Agenia's saliva, an agent
which is anything but plentiful, because of
the insect's exiguous dimensions, and so it
is applied only on the side. Indeed, if I
stand a cell on a drop of water, I see the
moisture at once spread from bottom to top
and turn the vessel into pulp, until nothing
is left but a thin inner layer, which is less
yielding..

I do not know where the Agenise get their
materials. Do they follow the Pelopaeus'
86

The Ageni^E

custom and collect loam ready prepared,
wet earth, mud or naturally plastic clay; or,
copying the method of the Mason-bees, do
they use cement scraped together atom by
atom and converted into paste with the
saliva? Direct observation has failed to
tell me anything in this respect. From the
colour of the cells, which are now red, like
the soil of our stony expanses, now whitish,
like the dust of the highways, now greyish,
like certain chalk-beds in the neighbour-
hood, I see plainly that the material for the
pots is collected everywhere indifferently,
but I am unable to determine whether, at
the actual moment of collection, it is paste
or powder.

I incline, however, to the latter al-
ternative, because of the impermeable inner
surface of the cells. Earth already soaked
with natural moisture would not readily ab-
sorb the Agenia's saliva and could not ac-
quire the watertight qualities which I find
that it possesses. This peculiarity makes
it highly probable that the cement is col-
lected dry and that the insect mixes it in
order to turn it into plastic clay. Then how
are we to explain the outside of the pot,
which melts upon contact with a drop of
water, and the inside, which remains intact?
87

The Mason-Wasps

Very simply: for the outside materials the
potter uses only the water with which she
slakes her thirst from time to time; for the
inside materials she uses pure saliva, a
precious agent which has to be thriftily em-
ployed, so that she may equip her family
with a sufficiency of earthenware. To con-
struct her pots, the Agenia must possess two
separate fluid-reservoirs: the crop, a bottle
which is filled with spring-water; and the
gland, a phial in which the watertight chem-
ical product is sparingly elaborated.

The Pelopseus knows nothing of these
scientific methods. To the mud collected
ready-made she adds nothing that develops
resisting-powers later; when attacked by
water, her cells quickly become soaked and
allow the moisture to ooze through to the
inside. Hence probably, in her case, the
necessity for a thick casing of plaster to
protect the too permeable dwelling. Each
potter has her portion: the giantess, the
rough covering of loam; the dwarf, the thin
coating of varnish.

Despite their inner glaze, the Agenia's
cells are too readily affected by water and
moreover too fragile to remain exposed to
the open air with impunity. They need a
shelter quite as badly as those of the
88

The Ageniae

Pelopaeus. This sheker is found in all
manner of places, excepting our houses,
where the frail potter very rarely takes
refuge. A tiny cavity under the stump of
a tree; a hole in some wall or other, exposed
to the sun; an old Snail-shcU under a heap
of stones; a Capricorn's disused burrow
bored in the oak; an Anthophora's ^ de-
serted dwelling; a fat Earth-worm's mine-
shaft opening on a dry bank; the hole
whence the Cicada^ has emerged: anything,
in short, suits her, provided that the ac-
commodation be sheltered from the rain.
Once only did Agenia punctuin, who is more
frequent than the other, pay me a visit.
She had established her collection of pots
in some little paper bags lying on the
shelves of a green-house and intended to
hold seeds. This nest-building on a sheet
of paper reminded me of the Pelopaeus con-
fiding her cells to the books in a distillery
or the curtains of a window. Indifferent
to the nature of the support for their nests,
both potters sometimes choose very curious
sites.

1 For the various species of Burrowing Bees known
as the Anthophorae, cf. Bramble-bee and others: chap. vii.
et passim. — Translator's Note.

- For the Cicada, or Cigale, cf. The Life of the Grass-
hopper, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander
Teixeira de Mattes: chaps, i. to v. — Translator's Note.
89

The Mason-Wasps

Now that we know the provision-jar, let
us ascertain what it contains. The Pe-
lopaeus' larvae are fed on Spiders, a diet
hkewise dear to the Agenia^ and to the
PompiU.^ The game does not lack variety,
even in the same nest and the same cell.
Any Spider may form part of the ration,
provided that her dimensions do not exceed
the capacity of the jar. My abstracts of
victuals mention the following genera:
Epeira,^ Segestria, Clubionus,'^ Attus, The-
ridion and Lycosa;^ and the list could
no doubt be extended, were it worth while
to continue the bill of fare. The Epeirae
are most numerous. Those recurring most
frequently belong to the following species:
E. diadema, scalaris, adianta, pallida and
angulata. The Diadem Epeira, or Cross
Spider,^ with three crosses of white dots on
her back, is the dish that occurs oftenest.

I should hesitate to regard this frequency

1 The Pompilus, or Ringed Calicurgus, is a Ilunting
Wasp, feeding her young on Spiders. Cf. The Life and
Love of the Insect: chap. xii. — Translator's Note.

^ For the Epeiras, or Garden Spiders, cf. The Life of the
Spider: chaps, ix. to xiv. — Translator's Note.

3 One of the Tube-weaving Spiders. — Translator's Note.

* For Theridion lu^i^ubre and the Narbonne Lycosa, or
Black-bellied Tarantula, cf. The Life of the Spider: chap,
i. — Translator's Note.

•5 Cf. The Life of the Spider: chaps, vi. and vii. — Trans-
lator's Note.

The Pelopaeus' Victuals

as indicating a special predilection of the
Pelopaeus for this kind of game. In her
hunting-trips the Wasp does not go far
from her home; she vists the old walls near
by, the hedges, the little gardens all around
and captures whatever offers. Now in
these conditions the Cross Spider happens,
at the nesting-period, to be the commonest.
Every reed-fenced garden-patch in front of
the rough cottage beloved by the potter,
every hawthorn-hedge surrounding a cab-
bage-plot shows me the Spider with the
pontifical cross weaving her net or waiting
for her prey in the centre of her web. If
I need a Spider for my studies, I am certain
of finding the Diadem Epeira within a few
steps of my house. That much keener in-
vestigator, the Pelopaeus, must easily effect
this kind of capture; and this, it seems to
me, is the reason why that particular morsel
predominates in the provision-store.

If the Epeira, the habitual foundation of
the meal, happen to be lacking, any other
Spider is regarded as adequate, even when
she belongs to a very different group. We
have here the wise eclecticism of 'the Cra-
bro-wasps ^ and Bembeces, who welcome any

1 A family of Digger Wasps of whom the larger species
burrow in the ground and the smaller in the pith of
plants or in rotten wood. — Translator's Note.
91

The Mason-Wasps

member of the Fly clan, provided that the
prey be not disproportionate to the hunt-
ress' strength. We should be wrong, how-
ever, to erect this indifference into too ab-
solute a principle: there is reason to believe
that the Pelopaeus recognizes different quali-
ties of nourishment and flavour between one
Spider and another. A more fastidious ex-
pert than Lalande,^ with his legendary pas-
sion for plump, nutty Spiders, she must rate
this species more highly than that; and
there are some which she must absolutely
despise. These include the House Spider
(Tegenaria domestica), who weaves her cob-
webs in the corners of our houses.

On the kitchen-ceiling and on the rafters
of the granary this Spider is her near neigh-
bour: the silken lair stretches in close
proximity to the earthen nest. Instead of
expeditions in the neighbourhood, a little
patrolling of the actual premises where she
has settled down would provide the Pe-
lopaeus with abundant sport, for there is
game swarming at her very door. Why

1 Joseph Jerome Le Frangais de Lalande (1732-1807),
the astronomer. Even after he had achieved his reputa-
tion, he sought means, outside the domain of science, to
make himself talked about and found these in the display
partly of odd tastes, such as that for eating Spiders and
caterpillars, and partly of atheistical opinions. — Trans-
lator's Note.

The Pelopaeus' Victuals

does she not profit by this plenty? The
dish is not to her liking; and it would be
very difficult to tell the reason why. The
fact remains that, in ail my stock-taking of
victuals, I have never found the House
Spider among the provisions, although the
species, if captured young, would seem to
fulfil the required conditions. This dis-
dain is a pity both for our sake and for the
Pelopaeus'; for ours, in the first place, be-
cause we should otherwise possess, inside
our dwellings, an inspector of ceilings whose
duty it would be to exterminate the spin-
ners of cobwebs that cause the housewives
such trouble; next, for the sake of the
Pelopaeus, who, once inscribed on the hal-
lowed roll of useful insects, would enjoy an
established reputation and receive a friendly
welcome in the farm-house, instead of be-
ing driven out when too lavish with her
mud.

The Spider, armed with poison-fangs, is
a dangerous quarry to tackle ; when of fair
size, she demands of her adversary an au-
dacity and above all a tactical skill which
the Pelopaeus, it seems to me, does not fully
possess. Moreover, the small diameter of
the cells would not admit a bulky prey, such
as the Tarantula hunted by the Ringed

The Mason-Wasps

Calicurgus.^ The Calicurgus deposits her
corpulent victim in a cavern obtained with-
out labour in the old plaster at the foot of
a wall; the Pelopaeus places hers in a jar, a
laborious construction whose capacity has
to be reduced to suit the larva. The
Pelopsus, therefore, hunts game of mode-
rate size, smaller than one would at first
expect from the insect's vigorous appear-
ance. If she encounters a species that is
apt to become plump, she always selects a
young one. This happens in the case of the
Cross Spider, who, when full-grown, with
her belly swollen with eggs, almost rivals
the Calicurgus' Tarantula and who is ad-
mitted to the provision-jar only when of
niggardly dimensions, very different from
those which maturity will bring. For the
rest, the size varies, between one specimen
and another, by a hundred per cent and
more. The essential point is that the
quarry can be stored in the narrow jar.
This variation in the size of the items pro-
vided leads to corresponding variations in
their number. One cell is stuffed with a
dozen Spiders; another contains only five or
six. The average number Is eight. The
nurseling's sex must of a surety play Its part,

1 Or Pompilus' : vide supra. — Translator's Note.
94

The Pelopaeus' Victuals

as with the other Wasps, in regulating the
luxuries of the table.

The culminating feature in the biography
of any hunting insect is the method of at-
tack; and so I did my utmost to observe the
Pelopaeus at grips with her quarry. My
patient waits in front of her favourite hunt-
ing-grounds, old walls and bramble-thickets,
were not crowned with any great success.
I have seen the Pelopaeus fall suddenly upon
the Spider madly fleeing and clasp and carry
off her victim almost without delaying her
flight. The other game-hunters alight on
the ground, solemnly make their fastidious
preparations and distribute their lancet-
strokes with the calm deliberation which a
delicate operation demands. The Pelo-
paeus darts forward, seizes her prey and
makes off, very much as the Bembeces do.
There is reason to believe, so sudden is the
rape, that she makes use of her sting and
her mandibles only during the flight, on her
journey home. This fierce procedure,
which is incompatible with scientific surgery,
explains even better than the narrowness of
the cells her preference for Spiders of small
dimensions. A sturdy prey, armed with its
two poison-fangs, would constitute a deadly
peril to the ravisher disdainful of precau-
95 .

The Mason-Wasps

tions. The lack of artifice calls for a
feeble victim. It also makes us suspect
that the Spider so hastily set upon is killed.

Indeed, I have over and over again
armed my eyes with a magnifying-glass and
scrutinized the contents of cells whose eggs
had not yet hatched, a proof that the pro-
visions were of recent date : there is never
a quiver of either palpi or tarsi in the
victims stored away. It is only with diffi-
culty that I manage to preserve them: in
ten days' time, more or less, I see them
grow mouldy and putrefy. The Spiders,
therefore, are dead, or very nearly so,
when they are potted by the Pelopaeus. Is
the skilful paralysis which the Calicurgus
practises upon the Tarantula, who keeps
fresh for seven weeks, unknown to the
Pelopceus, or is it impracticable in the fierce-
ness of the attack? Are we, in her case,
dealing not with a delicate practitioner, who
is able to abolish movement without de-
stroying life, but rather with a brutal
sacrificer, who, to deprive her victims of
their power of movement, kills them?
Everything in their withered aspect and
their rapid decay assures us that this is so.

The evidence does not surprise me : we
shall see, as we go on, other victimarii in-
96

The Pelopaeus' Victuals

flict death Instantly with a stroke of the
stiletto, delivered with a science of slaughter
no less astonishing than the science of the
paralysers. We shall see the reasons that
call for these complete murders and we shall
recognize, under other aspects, the pro-
found anatomical and physiological know-
ledge which a rational action would demand
in order to rival the unconscious action of
instinct. As for the necessity of killing her
Spiders under which the Pelopncus labours,
I find It Impossible even to suspect the
cause.

What I do see, without any lengthy in-
vestigations. Is the logical method whereby
the Pelopaeus makes the most of the corpses
threatened with speedy putrefaction. To
begin with, each cell contains a number of
victims. The carcase actually attacked by
the larva, ground between Its mandibles,
abandoned and attacked at another point,
soon becomes a shapeless and disorganized
mass, more liable than ever to putrefy.
But it is small and is therefore consumed at
a single sitting, before decomposition over-
takes it; for once the larva has bitten into
a Spider it does not turn elsewhere for food.
The others therefore remain Intact, which
is enough to preserve them in a condition of
97

The Mason-Wasps

suitable freshness during the brief period of
nourishment. The numerous items com-
posing the ration, consumed in order, one
by one, are thus preserved for some days,
notwithstanding that they are corpses.

Imagine, on the other hand, a single
item, big enough to furnish the whole
banquet; the conditions would become de-
testable. Nibbled here and there, the gen-
erous morsel, with its many wounds, would
become a fatal mess of putrescence long
before it was finished; it would poison the
grub with the serum resulting from the
wounds. A dish of this kind, single and
sumptuous, demands, as a preliminary, the
maintenance of organic life, together with
the abolition of all movement, in a word,
paralysis. It also demands, on the con-
sumer's part, a special art of eating, an art
that respects the more essential and attacks
the less essential by degrees, as the Scoliae
and Spheges ^ have shown us. For reasons
which escape me, the Pelopaeus is unac-
quainted with the paralysers' art, nor does
her larva know how a bulky piece of game
may be consumed without danger. She is
therefore very happily inspired when she

1 For the ScoHa, cf. The Life and Love of the Insect:
chap. xi. ; for the Sphex, cf. The Hunting Wasps: chaps.
iv. to X. — Translator's Note.
98

The Pelopaeus' Victuals

provides her family with a large number
of small game. The restricted capacity of
the store-houses is not the main motive that
dictates her choice: there would be nothing
to deter the potter from making bigger
pickle-jars, were there any advantage to be
gained. The preservation of dead victuals
is of the foremost consequence; and, to
achieve it within the brief limits of the feed-
ing-period, the huntress fills her bag with
none but the smaller Spiders.

Better still: if I open cells that have been
recently closed, I always find the egg, not
on the surface of the heap, on the last
Spider supplied, but right at the bottom, on
the piece earliest in date, the first to be
stored. Whenever I witness the start of
the provisioning, I see the egg lying on the
single Spider wherewith the cell is then pro-
vided. There is no exception to the rule:
the Pelopaeus at once fixes her egg on the
first morsel served up, before resuming the
chase to complete the ration. The Bem-
beces deal similarly with their dead Flies:
the first carcase stowed away receives the

egg-
But this conformity of habits goes no
farther. The Bembeces continue to bring
provisions day by day, as the larva increases

The Mason-Wasps

in size, a method easily practised in a bur-
row closed with a mere screen of loose
sand, through which the mother passes
easily in either direction. The Pelopaeus
has not the same facilities of ingress and
egress: once the earthen jar is closed and
sealed, she would have, in order to re-
enter the cell, to break the lid, which is now
dry and would offer a resistance out of all
proportion to the means at the disposal of
the Wasp accustomed to handling fresh
mud. Moreover, each of these laborious
burglaries would have to be followed by a
rebuilding, which also would be an arduous
task.

It is not therefore the Pelopaeus' practice
to feed her offspring day by day; and the
hoard of victuals is completed as swiftly as
possible. If game be not abundant, if the
atmospheric conditions be difficult, several
days are required to fill the cell thoroughly.
In favourable weather, an afternoon is suf-
ficient. No matter what time the hunting
may take, long or short according to circum-
stances, the laying of the egg at the bottom
of the cell, on the first piece served, is a
happy device on whose excellence I have
already laid stress in my history of the
Odynerus. The victuals provided for a cell

100

The Pelopasus' Victuals

fill it to the brim and are stacked in the
order of acquisition, with the Spiders earliest
in date at the bottom and the more recent
on the surface. No subsidence, which would
lead to a mixture of fresh game and high,
is possible, because of the game's long legs,
which In most cases scrape against the walls
of the cell with their stiii hairs. The larva,
at the bottom of the heap and, moreover, in-
tent upon the morsel attacked, thus proceeds
from the oldest to the less old and always
finds in front of its teeth, until the end of the
meal, victuals that have not had time to spoil
by decomposition.

The egg is laid indifferently upon a large
joint or a small, according to the chances
of the first capture. It Is white, cylindrical,
slightly curved and measures three milli-
metres in length, with a diameter of rather
less than one millimetre.^ The spot that
receives it on the Spider's body varies
hardly at all; it is at the beginning of the
abdomen, towards the side. The new-born
larva, as Is usual with the Hunting Wasps,
takes its first bite at the point where the
pole of the egg containing the head was
fixed. Thus, for its first mouthfuls, it has
the juiciest and tenderest part, the Spider's

i .177 by .039 inch. — Translator's Note.
lOI

The Mason-Wasps

plump belly. Next comes the thorax,
abounding in muscular tissues, and lastly
the legs, dry morsels, but not despised.
Everything goes down, from the best to the
coarsest; and, when the meal is finished,
there is practically nothing left of the whole
heap of Spiders. This life of gluttony lasts
for eight to ten days.

The larva then works at its cocoon,
which consists at first of a sack of pure,
perfectly white silk, an extremely delicate
sack, affording little protection to the re-
cluse. This is only a woof, destined to be-
come a better stuff, not by additional weav-
ing, but by the application of a special
lacquer. The spinner is a worker in oiled
silk.

In the spinning-mills of the carnivorous
Wasps, two methods of manufacture are
employed to give the silken fabric greater
toughness. On the one hand, the fabric
is encrusted with numerous grains of
sand, which produces an almost mineral shell
wherein the silk has no other function than
to serve as a cement for the stony materials.
That is how the Bembeces, the Stizi, the
Tachytes and the Palari work. On the
other hand, the larva elaborates in its

102

The Pelopaeus' Victuals

stomach, in its chylific ventricle, a liquid
varnish which it disgorges into the meshes
of a rudimentary tissue of silk. Di-
rectly it trickles into the web, the varnish
hardens and becomes a lacquer of exquisite
daintiness. The larva next ejects at the
base of the cocoon, in the form of a hard
stercoral plug, the residue of the chemical
process accomplished in its stomach for the
elaboration of the varnish. This method is
that of the Spheges, the Ammophilae and the
Scoliae, who varnish the inner wrapper of
their multiple cocoons; and of the Crabro-
wasps, the Cerceres and the Philanthi,^
whose delicate cocoon consists of only a
single thickness.

The Pelopaeus adopts this last procedure.
When finished, her work is an amber-yel-
low fabric suggesting the outer skin of an
onion in fineness, colour, transparency and
the rustling sound which it emits when
fingered. Relatively long in comparison
with its width, as is demanded by the ca-

1 For the Cerceris, cf. The Hunting Wasps: chaps, i. to
iii; for the Philanthus, or Bee-eating Wasp, cf. Social Life
in the Insect World: chap. xiii. Some of the other Wasps
mentioned above will form the subject of chapters in a
later volume of this series entitled More Hunting Wasps.
— Translator's Note.

ioj

The Mason- Wasps

pacity of the cell and the slender form of
the future insect, the cocoon is rounded at
the top and suddenly truncated at the base,
which is rendered hard and opaque by the
stercoral plug, the by-product of the
lacquer-factory.

The hatching-period varies, of course, ac-
cording to the temperature and also accord-
ing to certain conditions which I am not yet
in a position to specify. One cocoon,
woven in July, gives birth to the perfect
insect in the course of August, two or three
weeks after the larva's period of activity;
another, dating from August, opens a
month later, in September; a third, no mat-
ter what its date of origin during the sum-
mer quarter, goes through the winter and
does not burst until the end of June. By
combining the birth-certificates recorded, I
seem to distinguish three generations in the
year, generations which are often but not
invariably realized. The first appears at
the end of June: this is the one whose co-
coons have gone through the winter; the
second is seen in August and the third in
September. So long as the very hot
weather lasts, evolution is rapid: three or
four weeks suflice to complete the Pelopaeus'
cycle. When September arrives, the fall in
104

The PelopcBus' Victuals

temperature puts an end to these precocious
broods; and the last larvse have to wait for
the return of the hot weather before they
can undergo their transformation.

105

CHAPTER V

ABERRATIONS OF INSTINCT

SO far as the Pelopasus is concerned, my
part as an observer Is concluded, a part
of no great interest, I am the first to admit,
if we Hmit its scope merely to the data which
it is able to supply. That the insect fre-
quents our dwellings, that it builds a mud
nest victualled with Spiders, that it weaves
itself a bag which looks as it it were cut
out of an onion-skin : all these details matter
to us but little. They may please the col-
lector who zealously sets down everything,
down to the nervation of a wing, In order to
throw a little light on his systematic ar-
rangements; but the mind nourished with
more serious Ideas sees nothing in all this
but the food of an almost puerile curiosity.
Is it really worth while to spend our time,
the time which escapes us so swiftly, this
stuff of life, as Montaigne calls it, in glean-
ing facts of indifferent moment and of
highly contestable utility? Is It not child-
ish to enquire so minutely into an insect's
actions? Too many interests of a graver
io6

Aberrations of Instinct

kind hold us in their grasp to leave us any
leisure for these amusements. That is how
the harsh experience of age impels us to
speak; that is how I should conclude, as I
bring my investigations to a close, if I did
not perceive, amid the chaos of my obser-
vations, a few gleams of light touching the
loftiest problems which we are privileged to
discuss.

What is life? Will it ever be possible
for us to trace it to its sources? Shall we
ever be permitted to excite, in a drop of
albumen, the uncertain quiverings which are
the preludes of organization? What is
human intelligence? In what respect does
it differ from animal intelligence? What
is instinct? Are these two mental aptitudes
irreducible, or can they both be traced
back to a common factor? Are the species
connected with one another, are they re-
lated by evolution? Or are they, as it
were, so many unchangeable medals, each
struck from a separate die upon which the
tooth of time has no effect, except to destroy
it sooner or later? These questions are
and always will be the despair of every cul-
tivated mind, even though the inanity of
our efforts to solve them urges us to cast
them into the limbo of the unknowable.
107

The Mason-Wasps

The theorists, proudly daring, have an
answer nowadays for every question; but,
as a thousand theoretical views are not
worth a single fact, thinkers untrammelled
by preconceived ideas are far from be-
ing convinced. Problems such as these,
whether their scientific solution be possible
or not, require an enormous mass of welU
established data, to which entomology, de-
spite its humble province, can contribute a
quota of some value. And that is why I
am an observer, why, above all, I am an
experimenter.

It is something to observe; but it is not
enough: we must experiment, that is to say,
we must ourselves intervene and create ar-
tificial conditions which oblige the animal to
reveal to us what it would not tell if left to
the normal course of events. Its actions,
marvellously contrived to attain the end pur-
sued, are capable of deceiving us as to their
real meaning and of making us accept, in
their linked sequence, that which our own
logic dictates to us. It Is not the animal
that we are now consulting upon the nature
of its aptitudes, upon the primary motives
of its activity, but our own opinions, which
always yield a reply In favour of our cher-
ished notions. As I have already re-
io8

Aberrations of Instinct

peatedly shown, observation in itself Is often
a snare: we interpret its data according to
the exigencies of our theories. To bring
out the truth, we must needs resort to ex-
periment, which alone is able to some extent
to fathom the obscure problem of animal
intelligence. It has sometimes been denied
that zoology is an experimental science.
The accusation would be well-founded if
zoology confined itself to describing and
classifying; but this is the least important
part of its function: it has higher aims than
that; and, when it consults the animal upon
some problem of life, its method of quest-
ioning lies in experiment. In my own
modest sphere, I should be depriving my-
self of the most potent method of study if
I were to neglect experiment. Observation
sets the problem; experiment solves it, al-
ways presuming that it can be solved; or at
least. If powerless to yield the full light of
truth, it sheds a certain gleam over the
edges of the impenetrable cloud.

Let us return to the Pelopaeus, to whom
it Is time to apply the experimental method.
A cell has recently been completed. The
huntress arrives with her first Spider. She
stores it away and at once fastens her egg
upon the Spider's belly. She sets out on a
109

The Mason-Wasps

second trip. I take advantage of her ab-
sence to remove with my tweezers from the
bottom of the cell the head of game and
the egg. What will the insect do on its
return, confronted with this empty cell, this
cell no longer containing the egg, the sole
object of her industry as a potter and her
skill as a huntress?

The disappearance of the egg must be
obvious to the Wasp who has been robbed
of it, if her poor intelligence possess so
much as the rudimentary gleam that enables
us to distinguish between a thing's presence
and its absence. The egg, were it alone,
being of small dimensions, might escape the
mother's vigilance; but it lies upon a com-
paratively bulky Spider, of whose presence
the Pelopseus, on returning to the nest, is
undoubtedly apprised by her sense of touch
and sight when she deposits the second vic-
tim beside the first. If this big object be
missing, the egg is missing likewise, so the
most elementary trace of reason that it
is possible to conceive ought to tell her.
Once more, what will the Pelopzeus do when
confronted with her cell, where the absence
of the egg henceforth renders the bringing
of provisions useless and absurd, unless and
until she repairs the loss by laying a second
no

Aberrations of Instinct

egg? She will do precisely what we have
already seen in the Mason-bee of the Sheds,
but under less striking conditions: she will
act absurdly and wear herself out uselessly.

What she does is to bring a second
Spider, whom she stores away with the same
cheerful zeal as though nothing untoward
had occurred; she brings a third, a fourth
and others still, each of whom I remove
during her absence, so that every time that
she returns from the chase the warehouse
is found empty. For two days the
Pelopaeus' obstinacy in seeking to fill the
insatiable jar persisted; for two days my
patience in emptying the pot as she stocked
it was equally unflagging. With the
twentieth victim, persuaded, perhaps, by the
fatigue of expeditions repeated beyond all
measure, the huntress considered that the
game-bag was sufficiently supplied; and she
began most conscientiously to close the cell
which contained absolutely nothing.

The Mason-bees whose cups I used to
empty as and when they brushed off the pol-
len-dust and disgorged the honey-paste gave
proof of similar inconsistencies: I would
see them laying the egg in the empty cell
and then closing the cell as though the pro-
visions were still there. One point alone
III

The Mason-Wasps

used to cause me some anxiety; my plug
of cotton-wool left behind it, on the wall
against which it rubbed, a smear of honey
whose smell might deceive the insect by con-
cealing the absence of the victuals. The
coarser sense of touch was dumb while the
finer sense of smell continued to speak. In
the case of the famous statue of which Con-
dillac ^ tells us, the sole stimulant of men-
tal activity was the scent of a rose. The
insect's intelligence is certainly very dif-
ferently equipped; nevertheless we may ask
ourselves whether, in a Bee, the scent of the
honey would not be so far predominant as
to cheat other impressions. This, at all
events, would explain the laying of the egg
in a cell containing no provisions, but still
full of their good smell; it would explain
the scrupulous sealing of the cell in which
the larva is doomed to die of starvation.
To avoid those foolish objections, the

1 fitlenne Bonnot de Condillac, Abbe de Mureaux (1715-
1780), the leading exponent of sensual philosophy. His
most important work is a Traite des sensations, in which
he imagines a statue organized like a man and endows
it with the senses one by one, beginning with that of
smell. He argues by a process of imaginative recon-
struction that all human faculties and all human know-
ledge are merely transformed sensations, to the exclusion
of any other principle; in short, that everything has its
source in sensation: man is nothing but what he has
acquired. — Translator's Note.
112

Aberrations of Instinct

last resource of an opponent at bay, I should
therefore like something better than the
absurd action of the Mason-bees. And this
the Pelopa^us has just given us. Here we
have no fragrant smear left behind by the
victuals withdrawn, no vestige than can con-
ceal the absence of provisions from the
mother. The Spider whom my tweezers
are about to seize at the bottom of the cell
leaves no trace of her temporary sojourn,
nor does the egg extracted with the first
morsel, so that the Wasp cannot fail to be
apprised of the void created in her cell, if
she be capable of being apprised of any-
thing. It makes no difference; nothing al-
ters her habitual course of action. During
two days, she brings a score of items, one by
one, as each preceding item is removed; the
stubborn hunt is prolonged, on behalf of an
egg which has been absent from the outset;
and at length the door of the cell is closed
with the same care as under normal condi-
tions.

Before considering the inferences to be
drawn from this odd behaviour, we will
record an even more striking experiment,
also made at the Pelopaeus' expense. I
have described how, when the group of
cells is completed, the insect plasters its

The Mason-Wasps

nest, covering it with a thick rind of mud
under which all the elegance of the pottery
disappears. I surprise a Pelopaeus at the
moment when she is spreading her first pel-
lets to form an outer casing. The nest is
fastened to a wall coated with mortar.
The idea occurs to me to take it away, in
the vague hope of beholding something
new. And something new there is, nay
more, something so absurd that one would
never have dared to foresee it. Let me be-
gin by explaining that naught remains of the
nest, when I have removed it and put it in
my pocket, except a thin, broken line, mark-
ing the circumference of the clod of mud.
Within this ring, save for a few fragments
of mud, the wall has resumed the whiteness
of its coat of mortar, a very different colour
from that of the nest, which is an ashen
grey.

The Pelopaeus arrives with her load of
clay. Without any hesitation that I can
perceive, she alights on the deserted spot
and deposits her pellet there, spreading it
slightly. The operation would have been
conducted no differently on the nest itself.
Judging by the quiet and zealous way in
which the Wasp is working, there is no doubt
but that she really believes herself to be
114

Aberrations of Instinct

plastering her house, whereas she is merely
plastering its uncovered support. The new
colour of the site and its flat surface, re-
placing the prominence of the vanished clod,
fail to apprise her that the nest is gone.

Can this be a temporary distraction, a
blunder due to the Wasp's excessive eager-
ness for work? She will change her mind,
no doubt, perceive her mistake and discon-
tinue her futile labours. But no: I see her
coming back thirty times in succession. At
each trip she brings a globule of mud, which
she applies, without making a single error,
inside the circumference formed by the line
of clay which the base of the nest has left
on the wall. Her memory, which tells her
nothing of the colour, shape or prominence
of the nest, is surprisingly faithful in mat-
ters of topographical detail: it knows no-
thing of essentials but is thoroughly ac-
quainted with accessories; topographically
speaking, the nest is there; the structure, it
is true, is missing, but there is the support-
ing base; and that, it appears, is enough;
at any rate, the Pelopaeus is lavish of her
exertions in bringing mud to plaster the
surface on which the structure no longer
stands.

In the old days, the Mason-bees used to
IIS

The Mason-Wasps

surprise me greatly with their tenacious
memory of the spot where the pebble lay
supporting their nest and with their lack of
perspicacity in all that concerned the nest
itself, which was replaced by another, quite
different nest without making them inter-
rupt the work already begun. The Pelo-
paeus outdoes them in these aberrations: she
gives the last strokes of the trowel to an
imaginary dwelling, of which nothing but
the site remains.

Has she, as a matter of fact, a more ob-
tuse intellect than the dome-builder? The
entomological tribe seems hardly to swerve
from a common stock of aptitudes; those
whom we consider the most richly endowed,
on the evidence of actions normally accom-
plished, show themselves as limited as the
rest when the experimenter disturbs the cur-
rent of their instincts. It is probable that
the Mason-bee would have committed the
same absurdities as the Pelopaeus, had I
thought of subjecting her, at a propitious
time, to a similar test. A plasterer by pro-
fession, she would, like the other, have plas-
tered the base of the nest removed from the
pebble at the right moment. My confi-
dence in the glimmer of reason which the
makers of theories attribute to the animal
ii6

Aberrations of Instinct

is so greatly shaken that I do not regard
my unflattering opinion of the Mason-bee
as rash.

Thirty times, I said, in my presence did
the artist in earthenware lay and then
spread her pellet of mud upon the bare
wall, thinking that she was applying it to
the nest itself. Sufficiently informed by
this long perseverance, I left the Pelopaeus
still busy at her futile task. Two days later,
I inspected the plastered site. The coating
of mud did not differ from that shown by a
finished nest.

I have suggested that the insect's rudi-
mentary intelligence has practically the same
limitations everywhere. The accidental dif-
ficulty which one insect is powerless to over-
come, in default of a gleam of judgment, any
other, no matter what its genus or species,
will be equally unable to overcome. To vary
the evidence, I will borrow my next example
from the Lepidoptera.^

The Great Peacock ^ is the largest Moth
of our district. Her caterpillar, which is
yellow-hued, with turquoise-blue spots sur-

^ The order of insects consisting of the Butterflies and
Moths. — Translator's Note.

2 Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar, by J. Henri Fabre,
translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xi. —
Translator's Note.

117

The Mason-Wasps

rounded by black hairs, spins itself, at the
foot of the almond-trees, a robust cocoon
whose ingenious construction has long been
celebrated. At the moment of her deliver-
ance, the Mulberry Bombyx ^ has in her
stomach a particular solvent which the new-
born Moth disgorges against the wall of the
cocoon to soften it, to dissolve the gum that
sticks the threads together and in this way
to force an exit by the mere pressure of her
head. With the aid of this reagent, the
recluse is able triumphantly to attack her
silken prison at the fore-end, the rear-end
or the side, as I discover by turning the
chrysalis in its cocoon, which I slit with a
pair of scissors and then sew up again.
Whatever the spot to be perforated for the
emergence, a spot which my intervention
varies at will, the liquid disgorged promptly
soaks into and softens the wall, whereupon
the captive, struggling with her fore-limbs
and pushing her forehead against the tangle
of unstuck threads, makes herself a passage
with the same ease as in her natural libera-
tion.

The Great Peacock is not endowed with
this method of delivery by means of a solv-

* Bombyx mori, the Moth of the Silkworm. — Trans-
lator's Note.

1 18

Aberrations of Instinct

ent; her stomach is incapable of preparing
the corrosive calculated to destroy, at any
point, the defensive enclosure which is now
a prison-wall. Indeed, if 1 reverse the
chrysalis in its cocoon, opened and then
closed with a few stitches, the Moth always
dies, being powerless to free herself.
When the point to be forced is changed, the
release becomes impossible. To emerge
from this shell, a genuine strong-box, a
special method is therefore necessary, one
having no relation to the chemical method
of the Mulberry Bombyx. Let me de-
scribe, as others have done before me, how
things happen.

At the fore-end of the cocoon, a conical
end, whereas the other is rounded, the
threads are not glued together; every else-
where, the silken web is cemented with a
gummy product that turns it into a
stout, waterproof parchment. Those front
threads, which are almost straight, con-
verge at their free end and form a cone-
shaped series of palisades, having as their
common base the circle where the use of the
gummy cement is suddenly discontinued.
The arrangement can best be compared
with the mouth of an Eel-pot, which the fish
readily enters by following the funnel of
119

The Mason-Wasps

osier-switches, but from which the impru-
dent one cannot get out again, because the
narrow passage closes its pahsade at the
least effort to push through.

Another very accurate comparison is pro-
vided by the Mouse-traps with an entrance
consisting of a bunch of wires arranged in
a truncated cone. Attracted by the bait,
the rodent enters the orifice of the trap, en-
larging it with a gentle thrust; but, when
it becomes a question of departure, the
wires, at first so tractable, become an in-
superable barrier of halberds. Both de-
vices permit entrance and forbid exit. If
we invert the arrangement of the conical
palisade, making it point outwards from
within, its action is reversed: exit is per-
mitted and entrance forbidden.

This is the case with the Great Peacock's
cocoon, which has a slight improvement to
its credit: its mouth, shaped like the Eel-pot
or Mouse-trap aforesaid, is formed of a
numerous series of cones, fitting one within
the other and overlapping. In order to
emerge, the Moth has only to push her
head in front of her; the several rows of
uncemented threads yield without difficulty.
Once the recluse is liberated, these threads
resume their position, so that there is no-

Aberrations of Instinct

thing outside to show whether the cocoon is
empty or inhabited.

Easy exit is not enough: there must also
be an inviolable refuge during the labour
of metamorphosis. The cell whose door is
open for exit must have the same door
closed against entrance, so that no evil-
minded one may make his way inside. The
mechanism of the Eel-pot's mouth admir-
ably fulfils this condition, which is as neces-
sary to the safety of the Great Peacock as
the first. To enter through the multiple
fences of converging threads, which consti-
itute a more effectual obstacle the harder
they are pushed, would be impossible to any
creature that might bethink itself of at-
tempting to violate the dwelling. I am
well-acquainted with the secrets of this lock,
which contrives, like any fine piece of work-
manship, to combine simple means with im-
portant results; and yet I always stand
amazed when, with an open cocoon in my
fingers, I try to pass a pencil through the
entrance. When pushed outwards from
within, it passes immediately; when pushed
inwards from without, it is invincibly
checked.

I am lingering over these details to show
the importance which the good construction

121

The Mason- Wasps

of her palisade of threads possesses for the
Great Peacock. If ill-ordered, entangled
and therefore intractable when pushed, the
series of boxed cones will offer an insur-
mountable resistance and the Moth will per-
ish, a victim of the caterpillar's imperfect
art. If constructed with mathematical ac-
curacy, but with sparse rows of threads in
insufficient numbers, it will leave the retreat
exposed to dangers from without and the
chrysalis will become the prey of some in-
truder, of whom there are many in search
of somnolent nymphs, formir)g easy victims.
For the caterpillar, therefore, this double-
acting mouth is a work of the highest im-
portance. It has to expend upon it all that
it possesses in foresight, in gleams of rea-
son and in art capable of modification when
circumstances require; it must in short give
proof of the best of which its talents are
capable. Let us follow it in its labours;
let us interpose the experimental test; and
we shall learn some curious facts.

The cocoon and its opening are con-
structed simultaneously. When it has woven
this or that part of the general wall, the
caterpillar turns about, If need be, and with
its unbroken thread proceeds to continue
the palisade of converging filaments. To

122

Aberrations of Instinct

this end it pokes its head to the end of
the roughly-defined funnel and then with-
draws it, doubling the thread as it goes.
This alternation of thrusts and withdraw-
als results in a circle of doubled filaments,
which do not adhere to one another. The
shift is not a long one; when the palisade is
a row the richer, the caterpillar resumes its
work upon the shell, a task which it again
abandons to busy itself with the funnel; and
so on, over and over again, the emission of
the gummy product being suspended when
the threads are to be left free and copiously
effected when they have to be stuck together
in order to obtain a solid texture.

The exit-funnel is not, as we see, a piece
of work executed continuously; the cater-
pillar works at it intermittently, as the gen-
eral shell progresses. From the beginning
to the end of its spinning-period, so long as
the reservoirs of silk are not exhausted, it
multiplies the tiers without neglecting the
rest of the cocoon. These tiers take the
form of cones enclosed one within the other
and of increasingly obtuse angles, until the
last to be spun are so flat as to become al-
most level surfaces.

If nothing happen to disturb the worker,
the work is performed with a perfection
123

The Mason-Wasps

that would do credit to a discerning in-
dustry capable of realizing the why and
wherefore of things. Can the caterpillar
be said to have any conception, however
slight, of the importance of its task, of the
future function of its overlapping conical
palisades? This is what we are about to
learn.

I take a pair of scissors and remove the
conical extremity while the spinner is work-
ing at the other end. The cocoon is now
wide open. The caterpillar soon turns
about. It thrusts its head into the wide
breach which I have just made; it seems
to be exploring the outside and enquiring
into the accident that has occurred. I ex-
pect to see it repair the disaster and en-
tirely reconstruct the cone destroyed by my
scissors. It does, in fact, work at it for a
time; it erects a row of converging threads;
then, without paying further heed to the
disaster, it applies its spinnerets elsewhere
and continues to thicken the cocoon.

Grave doubts come to my mind: the cone
built upon the breach consists of sparse
filaments; it is, moreover, very flat and does
not project anything like so much as the
original cone. What I took at first to be a
work of repair is merely a work of con-
124

Aberrations of Instinct

tinuatlon. The caterpillar, put to the test
by my tricks, has not modified the course of
its work; despite the imminence of the
danger, it has confined itself to the tier of
threads which it would have fitted inside
the preceding tier but for the snip of my
scissors.

I let things go on for a while; and, when
the mouth has once again acquired a cer-
tain solidity, I cut it off for the second time.
The insect displays the same lack of per-
spicacity as before, replacing the absent
cone by one with an even more obtuse
angle, that is to say, continuing its usual
task, without any attempt at a thorough
restoration, despite the extreme urgency.
If the store of silk were nearly at an end,
I should sympathize with the troubles of the
sorely-tried caterpillar doing its best to re-
pair its house with the scanty materials that
remain at its disposal; but I see it foolishly
squandering its product on the additional
upholstering of a shell which may be strong
enough as it is, while economizing to the
point of stinginess in the matter of the fence,
which, if neglected, will leave the cell and
its inhabitant at the mercy of the first thief
that comes along. There is no lack of silk:
the spinner applies layer upon layer to the

125

The Mason- Wasps

points that are unhurt; but at the breach it
employs only the quantity required under
ordinary conditions. This is not economy
imposed by shortage; it is blind clinging
to custom. And so my commiseration
changes to amazement in the presence of
such profound stupidity, which applies itself
to the superfluous work of upholstery in
a dwelling henceforth uninhabitable, instead
of attending, while there is yet time, to the
business of repairing the ruins.

I make my cut a third time. When the
moment has come to resume the series of
boxed cones, the caterpillar arms the
breach with bristles arranged in a disk, as
they appear in the last courses of the un-
disturbed structure. This configuration
shows that the end of the task is at hand.
The cocoon is strengthened for a little
longer; then rest ensues and the meta-
morphosis begins in a dwelling with a nig-
gardly fence to it, one which would not
strike terror into the puniest invader.

To sum up, the caterpillar, incapable of
perceiving the dangers attendant upon an
incomplete palisade, resumes its work, after
each amputation of the cocoon, at the point
where it had left it before the accident.
Instead of thoroughly restoring the ruined
126

Aberrations of Instinct

exit, which its very abundant store of silk
would allow it to do; instead of reerecting
on the breach a projecting cone of many lay-
ers, to replace the one removed by my scis-
sors, it runs up layers of threads that be-
come gradually flatter and flatter and form
a continuation and not a reconstruction of
the missing layers. Moreover, this work
of fence-building, the need for which would
seem imperious to any reasoning creature,
does not appear to preoccupy the caterpillar
more than usual, for it keeps on alternating
this work with that of the cocoon, which
is much less urgent. Everything goes by
rote, as though the serious incident of the
housebreaking had not occurred. In a
word, the caterpillar does not begin all over
again a thing once made and then de-
stroyed; it continues it. The early stages
of the work are lacking; no matter: the
sequel follows without any modification in
the plans.

It would be easy for me, if my argument
were not already quite clear, to give a host
of similar examples showing plainly that
the intelligence of the insect is absolutely
deficient in rational discernment, even when
the great perfection of the work would
seem to allow the artisan a certain per-
127

The Mason-Wasps

spicacity. We will confine ourselves for
the moment to the three cases which I have
mentioned. The Pelopaeus goes on storing
Spiders for an egg that has been removed;
she perseveres in making hunting-trips that
are henceforth useless; she hoards victuals
that are destined to nourish nothing; she
multiplies her battues to fill with game a
larder which is forthwith emptied by my
tweezers; lastly, she closes, with every cus-
tomary care, a cell that no longer contains
anything whatever: she sets her seal on
emptiness. She does even absurder things:
she plasters the site of her vanished nest,
covering an imaginary structure and putting
a roof to a house which at the moment is
tucked away in my pocket. In the case
of the Great Peacock, the caterpillar, de-
spite the certain loss of the coming Moth, in-
stead of beginning all over again the mouth
of the Eel-pot cut down by my scissors,
quietly continues its spinning, without in any
way modifying the regular course of the
work; and, when the time comes for making
the last tiers of defensive filaments, it erects
them upon the dangerous breach, but ne-
glects to rebuild the ruined portion of the
barricade. Indifferent to the indispens-
able, it occupies itself with the superfluous.
128

Aberrations of Instinct

What are we to conclude from these
facts? I would fain believe, for the sake
of my insects' reputation, in some distrac-
tion on their part, in some individual giddi-
ness which would not taint the general per-
spicacity; I should like to regard their aber-
rations merely as isolated and exceptional
actions, which would not affect their judg-
ment as a whole. Alas, a long series of
glaring facts would impose silence on my
attempts at rehabilitation! Any species,
no matter which, when subjected to experi-
mental tests, is guilty of similar inconsis-
tencies in the course of its disturbed in-
dustry. Constrained by the Inexorable
logic of the facts, I therefore state the de-
ductions suggested by observation as fol-
lows: the insect is neither free nor conscious
in its industry, which in its case is an ex-
ternal function with phases regulated al-
most as strictly as the phases of an inter-
nal function, such as digestion. It builds,
weaves, hunts, stabs and paralyses, even as
It digests, even as it secretes the poison of
Its sting, the silk of Its cocoon or the wax of
Its combs, always without the least under-
standing of the means or the end. It Is
ignorant of Its wonderful talents just as the

stomach Is Ignorant of its skilful chemistry.
129

The Mason-Wasps

It can add nothing essential to them nor
subtract anything from them, any more
than it is able to increase or diminish the
pulsations of its dorsal vessel.

Test it with an accident and you affect
it not at all: such as it is in the undisturbed
exercise of its calling, such it will remain
should circumstances arise demanding some
modification in the conduct of its task. Ex-
perience does not teach it; time does not
awaken a glimmer in the darkness of its
unconsciousness. Its art, perfect in its
speciality, but inept in the face of the slight-
est new difficulty, is handed down im-
mutably, as the art of the suction-pump is
handed down to the babe at the breast. To
expect the insect to alter the essential points
of its industry is to hope that the babe will
change its manner of sucking. Both
equally ignorant of what they are doing,
they persevere In the method prescribed for
the safeguarding of the species, precisely be-
cause their ignorance forbids them to make
any sort of essay or attempt.

The insect, then, lacks the aptitude for
reflection, the aptitude that harks back and
reverts to the antecedent, without which the
consequent would lose all its value. In the
phases of its industry, each action accom-
130

Aberrations of Instinct

plished counts as valid by the mere fact that
it has been accomplished; the insect does
not go back to it, should some accident de-
mand; the consequent follows without
troubhng about the missing antecedent.
A blind impulse urges it from one act to a
second, from this second to a third and so
on until the task is completed; but it is im-
possible for the insect to reascend the cur-
rent of its activity should accidental condi-
tions arise and call for this, however im-
peratively. Having passed through the
complete cycle, the work is considered to be
most logically performed by a worker de-
void of all logic.

The stimulus to labour is the bait of
pleasure, that chief motive-power in the ani-
mal. The mother has no foreknowledge
whatever of her future larva; she does not
build, does not hunt, does not hoard with
the conscious aim of rearing a family. The
real object of her work is hidden from her;
the accessory but exciting aim, the pleasure
experienced, is her only guide. The Pelo-
paeus feels a keen satisfaction when she
crams a cell full with Spiders; and she goes
on hunting with imperturbable spirit after
the removal of the egg from the cell has
made provisions useless. She delights in
131

The Mason-Wasps

plastering the outside of her nest with mud
and she continues to putty the site of her
nest, after it has been detached from the
wall, without suspecting the futility of her
stucco. And so with the others. To re-
proach them for their aberrations we must
assume that they possess a tiny glimmer of
reason, as Darwin^ would have us believe;
if they have it not, the reproach falls to the
ground and their aberrant acts are the in-
evitable result of an unconsciousness di-
verted from its normal paths.

1 Charles Robert Darwin (1809-1882), the author of
The Origin of Species, had the highest opinion of Fabre
and spoke of him as " that incomparable observer."
Fabre, on the other hand, had no faith whatever in Dar-
winism, nor was he greatly struck by the views and the
suggestions for experiments with which Darwin favoured
him from time to time. Cf. The Mason-bees: chaps, iv.
and V. — Translator's Note.

132

CHAPTER VI

THE SWALLOW AND THE SPARROW

THE Pelopceus sets us a second problem.
She frequents our homes, seeks the
warmth of our fireplaces. A nest like hers,
built of soft mud, which lets in the water,
which would be dismantled by a shower and
utterly destroyed by prolonged damp, must
have a dry shelter; and this can be nowhere
better found than in our dwelling-houses.
Her susceptibility to cold makes warmth a
necessity. Perhaps she is a foreigner not
yet fully acclimatized, an emigrant from the
shores of Africa, who, after coming from
the land of dates to the land of olives, finds
the sunshine in the latter insufficient and
substitutes for the climate beloved of her
race the artificial climate of the fireside.
This would explain her habits, so unlike
those of the other Wasps, all of whom shun
the too-close proximity of man.

But through what stages did she pass be-
fore becoming our guest? Where did she
lodge before quarters built by human in-
dustry existed, where did she shelter her
133

The Mason-Wasps

brood of grubs before chimneys were
thought of? When, on the hills near by,
abounding in traces of their sojourn, the
aborigines of Serignan were hewing weapons
out of flint, scraping Goat-skins into raiment
and building huts of mud and branches, did
the Pelopaeus already frequent their cabins?
Did she build in some bulging pot, shaped
with the thumb out of half-baked black clay,
and by this choice teach her latter-day de-
scendants to seek out the peasant's gourd on
the chimneypiece? Did she think of build-
ing In the folds of the garments, the spoils
of the Wolf and the Bear, hanging from
some set of antlers, the hat-rack of the
period, thus trying her hand at a kind of
annexation that was to take her at a later
date to window-curtains and the labourer's
smock? Did she prefer to fix her nest on
the rough wall of branches and clay, near
the conical orifice which let out the smoke
from the primitive fire laid between four
stones in the centre of the hut? Though
not equal to our present chimneys, it will
have served at a pinch.

What progress she has made, this
Pelopeeus, what a contrast between that mis-
erable beginning and her modern premises,
if she is really, in my district, a con-
134

The Swallow and the Sparrow

temporary of the aborigines! She too
must have profited greatly by civilization :
she has managed to turn man's increasing
comfort into her own. When the dwelling
with a roof, rafters and ceiling was planned
and the chimney Avith side-walls and a flue
invented, the chilly creature said to herself:

"How pleasant this is! Let us pitch
our tent here."

And, notwithstanding the novelty of her
surroundings, she hastened to take possess-
ion.

Let us go back farther still. Before huts
existed, before the niche in the rock, before
man himself, the last to make his entrance
on the world's stage, where did the Pelo-
pasus build? The question is not devoid of
interest, as we shall shortly see. Besides,
it does not stand alone. Where did the
Window-swallow and the Chimney-swallow
make their nests before there were windows
and chimneys to build in? What retreat
did the Sparrow select for his family before
there were roofs with tiles and walls with
holes to them?

" As a sparrow all alone on the house-
top," said the Psalmist in his day.

In King David's time, the Sparrow
squawked mournfully under the eaves in the
135

The Mason-Wasps

summer heat, as he does to this day. The
buildings of that period differed but Httle
from ours, at least so far as the Sparrow's
convenience was concerned; and the shelter
under the tile had been adopted long before.
But, when Palestine had nothing more than
the camel-hair tent, where did the Sparrow
then elect to make his home?

When Virgil sings to us of good
Evander, who, preceded by his watch, two
Sheep-dogs, visits iEneas, his guest, he
shows him to us awakened at dawn by the
singing of the birds:

Evandrum ex humili tecto lux alma

Et matutini volucrum sub culmine cantus.^

What could those birds be which, at
break of day, twittered under the roof of
the old King of Latium? I see only two:
the Swallow and the Sparrow, both of them
chanticleers of my hermitage and as punc-
tual as in the Saturnian days. There was
nothing princely about Evander's palace.
The poet does not conceal the fact, it was
a lowly roof: humili tecto, he says. Be-
sides, the furniture enlightens us as to the

1 " The clieerful morn salutes Evander's eyes;
And songs of chirping birds invite to rise.
He leaves his lowly bed.''

^neid: book viii; Dryden's translation.
136

The Swallow and the Sparrow

edifice. The illustrious guest is given a
Bear-skin and a heap of leaves for a bed:

stratisque locavit

Efuhum foliis et pelle Libystidis ursa.^

Evander's Louvre therefore was a cabin
a little larger than the others, made per-
haps of tree-trunks laid one on top of the
other, perhaps of unhewn stone employed
as found, perhaps of reeds and clay. This
rustic palace would have a thatched roof,
of course. However primitive the habita-
tion was, the Swallow and Sparrow were
there, at least the poet says so. But where
did they stay before they found a lodging in
man's abode?

The industry of the Sparrow, the Swal-
low, the Pelopaeus and many others cannot
be subordinate to mankind's: each of them
must possess a primordial art of building,
one which makes the best use of the site
within reach. If better conditions present
themselves, they profit thereby; if these con-
ditions are lacking, they go back to their
ancient customs, whose practice, though

1 " Then underneath a lowly roof he led

The weary prince and laid him on a bed;
The stuffing leaves with hides of bears o'erspread."
Mneid: book viii; Dryden's translation.
137

The Mason-Wasps

sometimes exacting more labour, is at least
always possible.

The Sparrow shall tell us first how his
nest-building art stood in the days when
there were no lodgings in walls and roofs.
A hollow in a tree, high enough to shelter
him from prying eyes, with a narrow mouth
to keep out the rain and a fairly generous
cavity, gives him an excellent dwelling, of
which he readily avails himself even when
there are plenty of old walls and roofs in
the neighbourhood. The youngest bird's-
nester in my village knows all about it and
abuses his knowledge. The hollow tree
then is one lodging which the Sparrow em-
ployed, long before using Evander's cabin
and David's stronghold on the rock of
Zion.

His architectural resources go even fur-
ther. His shapeless mattress, an incoher-
ent jumble of feathers, down, ilock, straw
and other incongruous materials, seems to
demand a broad and stable support. The
Sparrow laughs at the difficulty and, from
time to time, for reasons that remain hid-
den from me, he conceives a bold plan: he
decides to build a nest having no support
but that of three or four tiny branches at
the top of a tree. The clumsy maker of
138

The Swallow and the Sparrow

mattresses tries to obtain aerial suspension,
a swinging house, the prerogative of weav-
ers and basket-makers well-versed in the art
of plaiting. And he succeeds.

In the fork of a few branches he accumu-
lates everything suitable for his work that
he can pick up near a house: rags, scraps of
paper, ends of thread, flocks of wool, bits
of hay and straw, dry blades of grass, flax
dropped from the distaff, strips of bark
retted by lying long in the open; and of his
various gleanings, clumsily matted together,
he contrives to make a large, hollow ball
with a narrow opening in the side. It is
bulky to a degree, the thickness of the dome
having to be as good a defence against the
rain as the shelter of a tile would be; it is
very roughly constructed, without any at-
tempt at artistry; but, when all is said, it is
stout enough to last for a season. This is
how the Sparrow must have worked in the
beginning, when there was no hollow tree at
hand. Nowadays, that primitive art, too
costly in time and materials, is seldom prac-
tised.

My house is shaded by two great plane-
trees; their branches reach the roof, on
which generations of Sparrows, too many
for the welfare of my cherries and my peas,
139

The Mason-Wasps

succeed one another throughout the warm
weather. This vast mass of greenery is
the first stopping-place after the exodus
from the nest begins. Here the young
birds assemble and for hours chatter and
scream before flying off on their pilfering-
expeditions; here the well-filled squads take
their stand on returning from the fields.
The adults meet here to keep an eye on
their recently-emancipated offspring, to cau-
tion the imprudent and encourage the timid;
family-quarrels are fought out here and the
events of the day discussed. From morn-
ing till evening there is a continual going to
and fro between the roof and the plane-
trees. Well, in spite of these constant vis-
its, I have only once, in the past twelve
years, seen the Sparrow build his nest in the
branches. The couple that decided in
favour of a mid-air nest on one of the
plane-trees were not particularly satisfied,
it seems, with the results obtained, for they
did not repeat the experiment next year.
Since thfh, none has placed before my eyes
for the second time a big ball of a nest
swaying in the wind at the end of a branch.
The steadier and less costly shelter of the
tile is preferred.

We now know enough about the early art
140

The Swallow and the Sparrow

of the Sparrow. What will the Swallows
tell us in their turn? Two species fre-
quent our dwellings : the Window-swallow
(Hirundo urbica) ^ and the Chimney-swal-
low (H. rustica), both of whom are very
badly named, both in the scientific and the
everyday language. Those epithets of
urbica and rustica, which make a town-
dweller of the first and a villager of the
second, can be applied indifferently to
either, since they both take up their abode
at one time in the town, at another in the vil-
lage. The terms window and chimney pos-
sess a precise meaning which is rarely con-
firmed and very often contradicted by the
facts. For the sake of clearness, the su-
preme condition of all tolerable prose, and
to confine myself to the habits peculiar to
the two species in my part of the world, 1
will call the first the Wall-swallow and the
second the Domestic Swallow. The shape
of the nest constitutes the most striking dif-
ference. The Wall-swiallow gives his the
form of a ball, with a round aperture just
large enough to admit the bird. The Do-
mestic Swallow fashions his into a cup with
a wide opening.

1 Also known as the House-swallow, or House-martin. —
Translator's Note.

141

The Mason-Wasps

The Wall-swallow, who is much less
common than the other, never chooses a site
within our houses for his structure. It
must be outside for him and it must stand
high, far removed from inquisitive eyes; but
at the same time a shelter against the rain
is indispensable, for the damp is almost as
dangerous for his mud nest as for that of
the Pelopaeus. He therefore settles by
choice under the eaves and cornices of
buildings. He visits me every spring.
My house pleases him. Just below the
roof is a cornice made up of a few courses
of ordinary " half-round " coping-tiles, cor-
belled out from the face of the wall in such
a way as to give a long line of round-headed
niches which are sheltered from the rain
and enjoy plenty of sunshine on the south
front. Among all these nooks, so healthy,
so well-protected and moreover so excel-
lently adapted to the shape of the nest, the
bird has only to choose. There is room for
all, however numerous the colony may be-
come one day.

Apart from sites of this kind, I see none
approved by the Swallow in the village, ex-
cept the under part of a few cornices of the
church, which is the only edifice of a monu-
mental character. In short, the support of
142

The Swallow and the Sparrow

a wall, in the open air, with some shelter
against the rain, is all that the Swallow asks
of our buildings.

But the natural wall is a perpendicular
rock. If the bird here finds overhanging
projections, forming a penthouse, it must
adopt them as the equivalent of the ledge
of our roofs. Ornithologists know, in fact,
that in mountainous districts, far removed
from human dwellings, the Wall-swallow
builds against the vertical sides of the rocks,
so long as his ball of clay is under cover
of some kind.

Near where I live are the Gigondas
Mountains, the most curious geological
structure that I have ever seen. Their long
chain displays so steep a slope that it is
almost impossible to stand upright near the
summit; and the ascent of the accessible
part has to be made on all-fours. You then
find yourself at the foot of a perpendicular
cliff, an enormous slab of sheer rock which,
like some Titanic rampart, tops the pre-
cipitous ridge with a jagged crest. The
people of the country call this Cyclopean
wall les Dentelles. I was one day bo-
tanizing at its base, when my eyes were at-
tracted by the evolutions of a flock of birds
in front of the rugged face of the rock. I
143

The Mason-Wasps

easily recognized the Wall-swallow: his si-
lent flight, his white belly and his ball-
shaped nest fastened to the cliff told me
all about him. I in my turn now learnt,
apart from the books, that this species fixes
its nests to perpendicular rocks when the
cornices of our buildings and the ledges of
our roofs are missing. Even so must it
have nested in the ages that preceded our
stone structures.

The problem becomes thornier with the
second species. The Domestic Swallow,
who has much more confidence in our hos-
pitality and is also perhaps more susceptible
to cold, establishes himself as often as pos-
sible inside our houses. The embrasure of
a window, the under surface of a balcony
will satisfy his requirements at need; but
he prefers the shed, the loft, the stable
or an empty room. His familiarity even
reaches the point of cohabitation with man
in the same apartment. No more timid
than the Pelopaeus in taking possession of
the premises, he installs himself in the farm-
kitchen and builds upon the peasant's
smoke-blacked rafters; more venturesome
even than the pot-making insect, he ap-
propriates the drawing-room, the study,

the bedroom or any well-kept chamber
144

The Swallow and the Sparrow

that leaves him at liberty to come and go.

Each spring I have to defend myself
against his bold usurpations. I gladly sur-
render to him the shed, the cellar-porch, the
Dog's corner, the woodshed and other out-
houses. This does not suffice for his am-
bitious views: he wants my study. At one
time he tries to make his home on the cur-
tain-rod, at another on the lintel of the open
window. In vain I strive to make him un-
derstand, by destroying the foundations of
his edifice as he lays them, how dangerous
to his nest is the shifting support of a case-
ment, which must be closed from time to
time, at the risk of crushing house and brood
alike, and how disagreeable for my cur-
tains this dirty business is, with its mud and,
later, the excretions of the young birds: I
do not succeed in convincing him; and to
put an end to his determined enterprise I
am compelled to keep the windows shut.
If I open them too soon, he returns with
his beakful of clay and begins all over
again.

Instructed by experience, I know what it
would cost me to grant the hospitality de-
manded so persistently. If I were to leave
some precious book open on the table, some
drawing of a mushroom, my morning's

145

The Mason-Wasps

work and still quite fresh from the brush,*
he would not fail, in passing, to drop his
muddy seal or his stercoral initials upon it.
These little annoyances have made me sus-
picious; and I remain obdurate to all my
visitor's importunities.

Once only I allowed myself to be be-
guiled. The nest was placed in a corner of
the ceiling and the wall, on some plaster
mouldings. Below it stood a marble con-
sole-table, usually covered with books which
I had to be constantly consulting. In an-
ticipation of events, I moved my reference-
library away. All went well until the eggs
were hatched; but, as soon as the young
birds were there, things changed. With
their insatiable stomachs, into which the
food had barely passed before it was di-
gested and dissolved, the six fledgelings be-
came unendurable. Every minute — flick,
flack 1 — it rained guano on the console.
If my poor books had been there, oh dear,
oh dear!

Dust and sweep as I might, my study
continued redolent of ammonia. And then
what a slave the birds made of me ! The
room was shut up at night. The father slept

^ Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap, xvii., In which the au-
thor describes his collection of water-colour drawings of
mushrooms done by his own hand.^=«' Translator's Note.
146

The Swallow and the Sparrow

out; so did the mother, after the little ones
were beginning to grow up. Then, at early
dawn, both were at the windows, in a mighty
state of distress outside the glass barrier.
With eyes still heavy with sleep, I had to get
up hurriedly and let the poor things in. No,
I shall not allow myself to be persuaded
again; never more shall I permit the Swal-
low to settle in a room that has to be closed
at night and still less in the room where I am
describing the misadventures that befel me
owing to my too-accommodating kindness.

As you see, the Swallow with the nest
shaped like a half-cup well deserves his
epithet of domestic, inasmuch as he makes
his home inside our houses. In this respect,
he is among birds what the Pclopa^us is
among insects. Here we have once again
the question of the Sparrow and the Wall-
swallow: where did he Hve before houses ex-
isted? Personally, I have never seen him
build his nest elsewhere than in the shelter
of our habitations; and the authors whom
I consult do not appear to be any wiser on
this subject. None of them says a word
of the manor occupied by the bird apart
from the refuges provided by human in-
dustry. Can it be that his long frequenta-
tion of our society and the consequent sense
147

The Mason-Wasps

of comfort have made him forget the primi-
tive customs of his race?

I find it difficult to beHeve: animals are
not, to that extent, unmindful of their an-
cient habits, when it is necessary to remember
them. Somewhere, in our day, the Swallow
still works independently of us and of ouf
buildings, even as he did in the beginning.
Though observation can tell us nothing con-
cerning the site selected, analogy makes up
for this silence with a wealth of probabilities.
After all, what do our houses represent to
the Domestic Swallow? Refuges against
the weather, especially against the rain,
which does so much harm to the mud shell.
Natural grottoes, caves, the irregularities
of crumbling rocks: these are all refuges,
less healthy, perhaps, but still well worth
having. It was here, beyond a doubt, that
the Swallow constructed his nest when he
had no human dwellings to build in. Man
contemporary with the Mammoth and the
Reindeer came and shared his lodging un-
der the rock. Intimacy sprang up between
the two. Then, step by step, the cave was
succeeded by the hut, the hut by the cabin,
the cabin by the house; and the bird, aban-
doning the less good for the better, fol-
lowed man into his improved abode.
148

The Swallow and the Sparrow

I We will now end this digression on the
habits of birds and apply the evidence
which we have gathered to the Pelopseus.
Every species practising its industry in our
dwellings must first have practised and, we
maintain, must still practise it under condi-
tions wholly extraneous to the work of man.
The Wall-swallow and the Sparrow have
given us proofs which are all that can be
desired; the Domestic Swallow, more reti-
cent of his secrets, gave us only probabili-
ties, which however come very near to cer-
tainty. The Pelopaeus is almost as obsti-
nate as the last-named in refusing to di-
vulge her ancient customs and long remained
to me an insoluble problem in so far as her
original domicile was concerned. Where
can the enthusiastic colonist of our chimneys
have lived, when far removed from man?
Thirty years and more elapsed after I first
made her acquaintance; and her history al-
ways ended in a note of interrogation.
Outside our houses, never a trace of a Pelo-
paeus-nest. And all the time I was apply-
ing the method of analog)', which provides
a very probable answer to the question of
the Domestic Swallow; I was pursuing my
search in the caves, in the shelters under
rocks facing the sun. Not a sign. I was
149

The Mason-Wasps

still continuing my useless investigations,
when at last chance, which favours the per-
severing, thrice compensated me, under con-
ditions which I did not for a moment sus-
pect of being auspicious.

The Serignan quarries are rich in accumu-
lations of broken stones, refuse that has
lain piled up there for centuries. These
stone-heaps are the refuge of the Field-
mouse, who, on a mattress of dried grass,
crunches the almonds, olive-stones and
acorns which he picks up all around and
varies this farinaceous diet with Snails,
whose empty shells lie packed under some
flat stone. Different Bees and Wasps —
Osmise, Anthidia, Odyneri — pick out
shells to suit them from the heap and build
their cells in the spiral. My search for
these treasures makes me turn over a few
cubic yards of broken stones every year.

Three times, when engaged upon this
task, I came upon the Pelopaeus' work.
Two nests were placed deep down in the
heap, against blocks hardly bigger than a
man's two fists; the third was fixed to the
lower surface of a large flat stone, forming
a canopy above the ground. These three
nests, though subject to all the changes of
the weather, contained nothing more than
150

The Swallow and the Sparrow

the usual structure found inside our houses.
The material was plastic mud, as always;
the protection, a covering of the same mud;
and that was all. The dangers of the site
had suggested no improvement to the archi-
tect; the edifice was no different from those
built against the wall of a chimney. One
point is established, therefore: in my dis-
trict, the Pelopaeus nidifies sometimes, but
very rarely, in stone-heaps and under
natural flagstones which do not touch the
ground. Thus must she have nidified be-
fore becoming the inmate of our dwellings
and our fireplaces.

A second point is open to discussion.
The three nests found under the stones are
in a piteous state. Soaked with damp, they
possess hardly more consistency than the
muddy puddle utilized for their construc-
tion. They are softened to such a degree
that they can no longer be handled. The
cells are ripped open ; the cocoons, easily
recognizable by their colour and their
transparency, which is that of an onion-skin,
are in pieces, without any vestige of the
larvae which I ought to find at the time of
my discovery, that is in winter. And yet
the three hovels are not old nests ruined
by the weather after the emergence of the
151

The Mason-Wasps

perfect insect, for the exit-doors are still
closed with their well-fitting plugs. It is at
an abnormal place, in the side, that the
yawning breach occurs. The escaping in-
sect would never use such violence in break-
ing through. They are certainly recent
nests, nests of the previous summer.

Their dilapidation is due to their unpro-
tected position. The rain penetrates into
the stone-heaps; even under the shelter of a
flagstone the air is saturated with damp.
If a little snow falls, the mischief is still
worse. In this way, the wretched nests
crumble and fall to pieces, leaving the
cocoons partly exposed. Unprotected by
their earthen sheath, the larvae have become
the prey of the brigandage that mows
down the weak. Some Field-mouse passing
by has perhaps feasted on those tender mor-
sels.

At the sight of these ruins a suspicion oc-
curs to me. Is the primitiive art of the
Pelopaeus really practicable in my region?
jWhen nesting in stone-heaps, does the
tiny potter find the security needed for her
family, especially during the winter? It is
very doubtful. The extreme rarity of the
nests in such conditions is evidence of the
mother's aversion for these sites; and the

The Swallow and the Sparrow

dilapidated state of those which I find seems
to testify to their dangerous nature. If
the inclemency of the climate makes it im-
possible for the Pelopsus to practise the in-
dustry of her forebears successfully, does
not this prove that the insect is a stranger,
a colonist from a hotter and drier climate
where there is no persistent rain and above
all no snow to be dreaded?

I have no difficulty in picturing the Pe-
lopsus as of African origin. Far back in
the past she came to us, by gradual stages,
through Spain and Italy; and the olive-dis-
trict is almost the limit of her extension
towards the north. She Is an African who
has become a Provencal by naturalization.
In Africa, in fact, she is said often to nest
under the stones, which would not, I think
make her despise human habitations, if she
tound peace and quiet there. We hear of
her kinswomen in the Malay Archipelago
frequenting houses. They have the same
habits as the guest of our homes; they share
her singular liking for that unstable fabric,
a muslin curtain. From one end of the
world to the other, the same taste for Spi-
ders, for mud cells, for sheltering under
man s roof. If I were in the Malay Ar-
chipelago, I should turn over the stone-
153

The Mason-Wasps

heaps and should most likely discover one
further resemblance: the original nest un-
der some flat stone.

IS4

CHAPTER VII

INSTINCT AND DISCERNMENT

nr^HE Pelopaeus gives us a very poor idea
•^ of her intellect when she plasters the
spot in the wall where the nest which I have
removed used to stand, when she persists in
cramming her cell with Spiders for the
benefit of an egg no longer there and when
she dutifully closes a cell which my tweezers,
extracting both germ and provisions, have
left empty. The Mason-bees, the caterpil-
lar of the Great Peacock. Moth and many
others, when subjected to similar tests, are
guilty of the same illogical behaviour: they
continue, in the normal order, their series
of industrious actions, though an accident
has now rendered these useless. Just like
mill-stones, which do not cease revolving
though there be no corn left to grind, let them
once be given the compelling power and they
will continue to perform their task despite its
futility. Are they then machines? Far be
it from me to think anything so foolish.
It is impossible to make definite progress

ISS

The Mason-Wasps

on the shifting sands of contradictory facts:
each step in our interpretation may find us
embogged. And yet these facts speak so
loudly that I do not hesitate to translate
their evidence as I understand it. In insect
mentality, we have to distinguish two very
different domains. One of these is instinct
properly so called, the unconscious impulse
that presides over the most wonderful part
of what the creature achieves with its in-
dustry. Where experience and imitation
are of absolutely no avail, instinct lays down
its inflexible law. It is instinct and instinct
alone that makes the mother build for a
family which she will never see; that coun-
sels the storing of provisions for the un-
known offspring; that directs the sting to-
wards the nerve-centres of the prey and
skilfully paralyses it, so that the game may
keep good; that instigates, in fine, a host of
actions wherein shrewd reason and consum-
mate science would have their part, were the
creature acting through discernment.

This faculty is perfect of its kind from
the outset; otherwise the insect would have
no posterity. Time adds nothing to it and
takes nothing from it. Such as it was for
a definite species, such it is to-day and such
it will remain, perhaps the most settled zoo-
156

Instinct and Discernment

logical characteristic of them all. It is not
free nor conscious in its practice, any more
than is the faculty of the stomach for di-
gestion or that of the heart for pulsation.
The phases of its operations are prede-
termined, necessarily entailed one by an-
other; they suggest a system of clockwork
wherein one wheel set in motion brings
about the movement of the next. This is
the mechanical side of the insect, the fatitvi,
the only thing that is able to explain the
monstrous illogicality of a Pelopaeus misled
by my artifices. Is the Lamb when it first
grips the teat a free and conscious agent,
capable of improvement in its difficult art
of taking nourishment? The insect is no
more capable of improvement in its art,
more difficult still, of giving nourishment.
But, with its hide-bound science ignorant
of itself, pure instinct, if it stood alone,
would leave the insect unarmed in the per-
petual conflict of circumstances. No two
moments in time are identical; though the
background remain the same, the details
change; the unexpected rises on every side.
In this bewildering confusion, a guide is
needed to seek, accept, refuse and select; to
show preference for this and indifference to
that; to turn to account, in short, anything
157

The Mason-Wasps

useful that occasion may offer. This guide
the insect undoubtedly possesses, to a very
manifest degree. It is the second province
of its mentality. Here it is conscious and
capable of improvement by experience. I
dare not speak of this rudimentary faculty
as intelligence, which is too exalted a title :
I will call it discernment. The insect, in
exercising its highest gifts, discerns, differ-
entiates between one thing and another,
within the sphere of its craft, of course; and
that is about all.

So long as we confound acts of pure in-
stinct and acts of discernment under the
same head, we shall fall back into those
endless discussions which embitter contro-
versy without bringing us one step nearer
to the solution of the problem. Is the in-
sect conscious of what it does? Yes and
no. No, if its action falls within the do-
main of instinct; yes, if the action falls within
that of discernment. Are the habits of an
insect capable of modification? No, de-
cidedly not, if the habit in question belongs
to the province of instinct; yes, if it belongs to
that of discernment. Let us state this fun-
damental distinction mere precisely with the
aid of a few examples.

The Pelopaeus builds her cells with earth
158

Instinct and Discernment

already softened, with mud. Here we
have instinct, the unalterable characteristic
of the worker. She has always built in this
way and always will. The passing ages
will never teach her, neither the struggle
for life nor the law of selection will ever
induce her to Imitate the Mason-bee and
collect dry dust for her mortar. This mud
nest of hers needs a shelter against the rain.
The hiding-place under a stone suffices at
first. But should she find something better,
the potter takes possession of that something
better and instals herself in the home of
man. There we have discernment, the
source of some sort of capacity for improve-
ment.

The Pelopzeus supplies her larvae with
provisions in the form of Spiders. There
you have Instinct. The climate, the lati-
tude or longitude, the changing seasons, the
abundance or scarcity of game introduce no
modification into this diet, though the
larva shows itself satisfied with other fare
provided by myself. Its forebears were
brought up on Spiders; their descendants
consumed similar food; and their posterity
again will know no other. Not a single cir-
cumstance, however favourable, will ever
persuade the Pelopaeus that young Crickets,
159

The Mason-Wasps

for instance, are as good as Spiders and that
her family would accept them gladly. In-
stinct binds her down to the national diet.

But, should the Epeira, the favourite
prey, be lacking, must the Pelopaeus give up
foraging? She will stock her warehouses
all the same, because any Spider suits her.
There you have discernment, whose elas-
ticity makes up, in certain circumstances, for
the excessive rigidity of instinct. Amid the
innumerable variety of game, the huntress is
able to discern between what Is Spider and
what is not; and In this way she is always
prepared to supply her family, without quit-
ting the domain of her Instinct.

The Hairy Ammophila gives her larva a
single caterpillar, a large one, paralysed by
as many pricks of her sting as it has nerv-
ous centres In its thorax and abdomen.
Her surgical skill in subduing the monster
is Instinct, displayed in a form that quashes
any inclination to see in it an acquired habit.
In an art that can leave no one to practise
It In the future unless that one be perfect at
the outset, of what avail are lucky chances,
atavistic tendencies, or the mellowing hand
of time? But the grey caterpillar, sacrificed
one day, may be succeeded on another day
by a green, yellow or striped caterpillar.
i6o

Instinct and Discernment

There you have discernment, which is quite
capable of recognizing the regulation prey
under very diverse garbs.

The Megachiles 1 build their honey-jars
with disks cut out of leaves; certain An-
thidia make felted cotton wallets; others
fashion pots out of resin. There you have
instinct. Will any rash mind ever conceive
the singular idea that the Leaf-cutter might
very well have started working in cotton,
that the cotton-wool-worker once thought or
will one day think of cutting disks out of
the leaves of the lilac- or the rose-tree,
that the resin-kneader began with clay?
Who would dare to indulge in such
theories? Each Bee has her art, her
medium, to which she strictly confines her-
self. The first has her leaves; the second
her wadding; the third her resin. None of
these guilds has ever changed trades with
another; and none ever will. There you
have instinct, keeping the workers to their
specialities. There are no innovations in
their workshops, no formula resulting from
experiment, no ingenious devices, no pro-
gress from the indifferent to the good, from
the good to the excellent. To-day's method

1 Or Leaf-cutters. Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chao
vm. — Translator's Note,

i6i

The Mason- Wasps

is the facsimile of yesterday's; and to-mor-
row will know no other.

But, though the manufacturing-process is
invariable, the raw material is subject to
change. The plant that supplies the cotton
differs in species according to the locality;
the bush out of whose leaves the pieces will
be cut is not the same in the various fields
of operation; the tree that provides the
resinous putty may be a pine, a cypress, a
juniper, a cedar or a spruce, all very differ-
ent in appearance. What will guide the in-
sect in its gleaning? Discernment.

These, I think, are sufficient details of the
fundamental distinction to be drawn in the
insect's mentality, the distinction, that is, be-
tween pure instinct and discernment. If
people confuse these two provinces, as they
nearly always do, any understanding be-
comes impossible; the last glimmer of light
disappears behind the clouds of inter-
minable discussions. From an industrial
point of view, let us look upon the insect
as a worker thoroughly versed from birth
in a craft whose essential principles never
vary; let us grant that unconscious worker
a gleam of intelligence which will permit it
to extricate itself from the inevitable con-
flict of attendant circumstances; and I think
162

Instinct and Discernment

that we shall have come as ne-ar to the truth
as the state of our knowledge will allow for
the moment.

Having thus assigned a due share both
to instinct and to its aberrations when the
course of its different phases is disturbed,
let us see what discernment is able to do
in the selection of a site for the nest and
materials for building it; and, leaving the
Pelopsus, upon whom it is useles to dwell
any longer, let us consider other examples,
picked from among those richest in varia-
tions.

The Mason-bee of the Sheds (Chali-
codoma rufitarsis, Perez) well deserves the
name which I have felt justified in giving
her from her habits: she settles in numerous
colonies in our sheds, on the lower surface
of the tiles, where she builds huge nests
which endanger the solidity of the roof.
Nowhere does the insect display a greater
zeal for work than in one of these colossal
cities, an estate which is constantly increas-
ing as it passes down from one generation
to another; nowhere does it find a better
workshop for the exercise of its industry.
Here it has plenty of room, a quiet resting-
place, sheltered from damp and from ex-
cess of heat or cold.

163

The Mason-Wasps

But the spacious domain under the tiles
is not within the reach of all: sheds with
free access and the proper sunny aspect are
pretty rare. These sites fall only to for-
tune's favourites. Where will the others
take up their quarters? More or less
anywhere. Without leaving the house in
which I live, I can enumerate stone, wood,
glass, metal, paint and mortar as forming
the foundation of the ,nes>ts. The green-
house with its furnace heat in the summer
and its bright light, equalling that outside,
is fairly well-frequented. The Mason-bee
hardly ever fails to build there each year,
in squads of a few dozen, now on the glass
panes, now on the iron bars of the frame-
work. Other little swarms settle in the
window-embrasures, under the projecting
ledge of the front-door or in the cranny be-
tween the wall and an open shutter. Yet
others, being perhaps of a morose dispo-
sition, flee society and prefer to work in
solitude, one in the inside of a lock or of a
pipe intended to carry the rain-water from
the leads; another in the mouldings of the
doors and windows or in the crude orna-
mentation of the stonework. In short, the
house is made use of all round, provided
that the shelter be an out-of-door one; for
164

Instinct and Discernment

observe that the enterprising invader, un-
like the Pelopaeus, never penetrates inside
our dwellings. The case of the conser-
vatory is an exception more apparent than
real: the glass building, standing wide open
throughout the summer, is to the Mason-
bee but a shed a little lighter than another.
There is nothing here to arouse the distrust
with which anything indoors or closed in-
spires her. To build on the threshold of
an outer door, to usurp its lock, a hiding-
place to her fancy, is all that she allows
herself; to go any farther is an adventure
repugnant to her taste.

Lastly, in the case of all these dwellings,
the Mason-bee is man's free tenant; her in-
dustry makes use of the products of our own
industry. Can she have no other establish-
ments? She has, beyond a doubt; she pos-
sesses some constructed on the ancient plan.
On a stone the size of a man's fist, pro-
tected by the shelter of a hedge, sometimes
even on a pebble in the open air, I see her
building now groups of cells as large as a
walnut, now domes emulating in size, shape
and solidity those of her rival, the Mason-
bee of the Walls.

The stone support is the most frequent,
though not the only one. I have found
J65

The Mason-Wasps

nests, but sparsely inhabited it is true, on
the trunks of trees, in the seams of the
rough bark of oaks. Among those whose
support was a living plant, I will mention
two that stand out above all the others.
The first was built in the grooves of a Pe-
ruvian torch-thistle as thick as my leg; the
second rested on a stalk of the opuntia, the
Indian fig. Had the fierce armour of these
two stout cactuses attracted the attention of
the insect, which looked upon their tufts
of spikes as furnishing a system of defence
for its nest? Perhaps so. In any case,
the attempt was not imitated; I never saw
another installation of the kind. There is
one definite conclusion to be drawn from my
two discoveries. Despite the oddity of
their structure, which is unparalleled in
the local flora, the two American importa-
tions did not compel the insect to go through
an apprenticeship of groping and hesitation.
The one which found itself in the presence
of those novel growths and which was per-
haps the first of its race to do so took pos-
session of their grooves and stalks just as it
would have done of a familiar site. From
the start, the fleshy plants from the New
World suited It quite as well as the trunk
of a native tree.

i66

Instinct and Discernment

The Mason-bee of the Pebbles (Chali-
codoma parietina) has none of this elas-
ticity in the choice of a site. In her case,
the smooth stone of the parched uplands is
the almost invariable foundation of her
structures. Elsewhere, under a less clement
sky, she prefers the support of a wall, which
protects the nest against the prolonged
snows. Lastly, the Mason-bee of the
Shrubs (C. rujescens, Perez) fixes her ball
of clay to a twig of any ligneous plant,
from the thyme, the rock-rose and the
heath to the oak, the elm and the pine.
The list of the sites that suit her would
almost form a complete catalogue of the
ligneous flora.

The variety of places where the insect
installs itself, so eloquent of the part played
by discernment in their selection, becomes
still more remarkable when accompanied
by a corresponding variety in the architec-
ture of the cells. This is more particu-
larly the case with the Three-horned Os-
mia,^ who, as she uses clayey materials very
easily affected by the rain, requires, like
the Pelopaeus, a dry shelter for her cells, a
shelter which she finds ready-made and uses

1 Cf . Bramble-bees and Others: passim. — Translator's
Note.

167

The Mason-Wasps

just as it is, after a few touches by way of
sweeping and cleansing. The homes which
I see her adopt are especially the shells of
Snails that have died under the stone-heaps
and in the low, unmortared walls which sup-
port the cultivated earth of the hills in
shelves or terraces. The use of Snail-
shells is accompanied by the no less active
use of the old cells of both the Mason-bee
of the Sheds and of certain Anthophorae
(A. pilipes, A. parietina and A. perso-
nata.) ^

We must not forget the reed, which is
highly appreciated when — a rare find —
it appears under the desired conditions.
In its natural state, the plant with the
mighty hollow cylinders is of no possible
use to the Osmia, who knows nothing of the
art of perforating a woody wall. The gal-
lery of an internode has to be wide open
before the Bee can take possession of it.
Also, the clean-cut stump must be hori-
zontal, otherwise the rain would soften the
fragile edifice of clay and soon lay it low;
also, the stump must not be lying on the
ground and must be kept at some distance
from the dampness of the soil. We see

1 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: passim. — Translator's
Note.

i68

Instinct and Discernment

therefore that, witrhout the intervention of
man, involuntary in the vast majority of
cases and deliberate only on the experi-
menter's part, the Osmia would hardly ever
find a reed-stump suited to the installation
of her family. It is to her a casual ac-
quisition, a home unknown to her race be-
fore men took it into their heads to cut
reeds and make them into hurdles for dry-
ing figs in the sun.

How did the work of man's pruning-
knife bring about the abandonment of the
natural lodging? How was the spiral
staircase of the Snail-shell replaced by the
cylindrical gallery of the reed? Was the
change from one kind of house to another
effected by gradual transitions, by attempts
made, abandoned, resumed, becoming more
and more definite in their results as genera-
tion succeeded generation? Or did the
Osmia, finding the cut reed that answered
her requirements, install herself there
straightway, scorning her ancient dwelling,
the Snail-shell? These questions called for
a reply; and they have received one. Let
us describe how things happened.

Near Serignan are some great quarries
of coarse limestone, characteristic of the
miocene formation of the Rhone valley.
169

The Mason-Wasps

These have been worked for many genera-
tions. The ancient public buildings of
Orange, notably the colossal frontage of
the theatre whither all the intellectual world
once flocked to hear Sophocles' CEdipus
Tyrannus, derive most of their material
from these quarries. Other evidence con-
firms what the similarity of the hewn stone
tells us. Among the rubbish that fills up
the spaces between the tiers of seats, they
occasionally discover the Marseilles obol, a
bit of silver stamped with the four-spoked
wheel, or a few bronze coins bearing the
effigy of Augustus or Tiberius. Scattered
also here and there among the monuments
of antiquity are heaps of refuse, accumula-
tions of broken stones in which various Bees
and Wasps, including the Three-horned
Osmia in particular, take possession of the
dead Snail-shell.

The quarries form part of an extensive
plateau which is so arid as to be nearly
deserted. In these conditions, the Osmia,
at all times faithful to her birth-place, has
little or no. need to emigrate from her heap
of stones and leave the shell for another
dwelling which she would be obliged to
seek at a distance. Since there are heaps of
stone there, she probably has no other
170

Instinct and Discernment

dwelling than the Snail-shell. Nothing
tells us that the present-day generations are
not descended in the direct line from the
generations contemporary with the quarry-
man who lost his as or his obol at this spot.
All the circumstances seem to point to it:
the Osmia of the quarries is an inveterate
user of Snail-shells; so far as heredity is
concerned, she knows nothing whatever of
reeds. Well, we must place her in the
presence of these new lodgings.

I collect during the winter about two
dozen well-stocked Snail-shells and install
them in a quiet corner of my study, as I did
at the time of my enquiries into the dis-
tribution of the sexes. ^ The little hive
with its front pierced with forty holes has
bits of reed fitted to it. At the foot of the
five rows of cylinders I place the inhabited
shells and with these I mix a few small
stones, the better to imitate the natural con-
ditions. I add an assortment of empty
Snail-shells, after carefully cleaning the in-
terior so as to make the Osmia's stay more
pleasant. When the time comes for nest-
building, the stay-at-home insect will have,
close beside the house of its birth, a choice

1 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chaps, iii. and iv. —
Translator's Note.

171

The Mason-Wasps

of two habitations: the cylinder, a novelty
unknown to its race; and the spiral stair-
case, the ancient ancestral home.

The nests were finished at the end of
May and the Osmiae began to answer my
interrogatory. Some of them, the great ma-
jority, settled exclusively in the reeds; the
others remained faithful to the Snail-shell,
or else entrusted their eggs partly to the
spirals and partly to the cylinders. With
the first, who were the pioneers of cylindri-
cal architecture, there was no hesitation that
I could perceive: after exploring the stump
of reed for a time and recognizing it as
serviceable, the insect installs itself there
and, an expert from the first touch, without
apprenticeship, without groping, without
any tendencies bequeathed by the long prac-
tice of its predecessors, builds its straight
row of cells on a very different plan from
that demanded by the spiral cavity of the
shell, which increases in size as it goes on.

The slow school of the ages, the gradual
acquisitions of the past, the legacies of
heredity count for nothing, therefore, in the
Osmia's education. Without any noviciate
on its own part or that of its forebears, the
insect is versed straight away in the calling
which it has to pursue; it possesses, in-
172

Instinct and Discernment

separable from its nature, the qualities de-
manded by its craft: some which are invari-
able and belong to the province of instinct;
others which are flexible and belong to the
province of discernment. To divide a free
lodging into chambers by means of mud
partitions; to fill these chambers with a
heap of pollen-flour, with a few sups of
honey in the central part where the egg is to
lie; in short, to prepare board and lodging
for the unknown, for a family which the
mothers have never seen in the past and
will never see in the future: this, in its es-
sential features, is the function of the Os-
mia's instinct. Here, everything is har-
moniously, inflexibly, permanently preor-
dained; the insect has but to follow its blind
impulse to attain the goal. But the free
lodging offered by chance varies exceedingly
in hygienic conditions, in shape and in ca-
pacity. Instinct, which does not choose,
which does not contrive, would, if it were
alone, leave the insect's existence in peril.
To help her out of her predicament, in these
complex circumstances, the Osmia possesses
her little stock of discernment, which dis-
tinguishes between the dry and the wet, the
solid and the fragile, the sheltered and the
exposed; which recognizes the worth or
173

The Mason-Wasps

worthlessness of a site and knows how to
sprinkle it with cells according to the size
and shape of the space at its diposal. Here,
slight industrial variations are necessary
and inevitable; and the insect excels in them
without any apprenticeship, as the experi-
ment with the Osmia born in the quarries
has proved.

Animal resources have a certain elasticity
within narrow limits. What we learn from
the animals' industry at a given moment is
not always the full measure of their skill.
They possess latent powers held in reserve
for certain emergencies. Long generations
can succeed one another without employing
them; but, should some circumstance re-
quire it, suddenly those powers burst forth,
free of any previous attempts, even as the
spark potentially contained in the flint
flashes forth independently of all preceding
gleams. Could one who knew nothing of
the Sparrow except the nest under the eaves
suspect the ball-shaped nest at the top of a.
tree? Would one who knew nothing of
the Osmia save her home in the Snail-shell
expect to see her accept as her dwelling a
stump of reed, a paper funnel, a glass tube?
My neighbour the Sparrow, impulsively
taking it into his head to leave the roof for
174

Instinct and Discernment

the plane-tree, the Osmia of the quarries,
rejecting her natal cabin, the Snail-shell, for
my cylinders, alike show us how sudden and
spontaneous are animals' industrial varia-
tions.

175

CHAPTER VIII

THE NEST-BUILDING ODYNERUS

IF further proofs than those submitted
elsewhere were needful, to demonstrate
that the organ does not imply the function,
that the implement does not determine the
work,^ the Odynerus group would furnish
us with very remarkable evidence. With a
close similarity of organization, not only in
the details but also in the aggregate, a simi-
larity which makes these insects one of the
most natural genera in respect of structure,
they possess a great variety of industries,
bearing no relation one to the other, though
carried on with the same equipment.
Apart from the likeness in form, one single
characteristic unites this group, whose hab-
its are so unlike: all the Odyneri are game-
hunters; they victual their families with
grubs paralysed with the sting, with little cat-
erpillars and small Beetle-larvae.

But to achieve this common end, the
larder furnished with its egg and stuffed

1 Cf. the essay on the Re&in-bees in Bramble-bees and
Others: chap. x. — Translator's Note.
176

The Nest-building Odynerus

with game, how many several methods of
construction! If we were better-acquainted
with the biology of the genus, we should
perhaps find architects of almost as many
different schools as there are species. My
investigations, which were dependent on op-
portunity, have as yet borne upon only three
of the Odyneri; and these three, with the
same implement, the curved, toothed
pincers of their mandibles, apply them-
selves to the most dissimilar industries.

One of them, O. reniformis, whose work
I have described in an earlier chapter, digs
a deep gallery in a hard soil and with the
rubbish constructs, at the mouth of her well,
a sort of curved chimney, with a guilloche
pattern, the materials of which are after-
wards again employed to close the abode.
Formerly, when I made her acquaintance in
front of a steep loamy bank baked by the
sun, I whiled away the long hours of wait-
ing by conversing, turn and turn about, with
the Hoopoe, who taught me how to pro-
nounce Latin, and with my Dog, who, lying
in the shade of a leafy thicket, cooling his
belly in the moist sand, taught me how to
practise patience. The Wasp was rare and
by no means prodigal of her returns to the
nest where I was watching her skilful tac-
177

The Mason-Wasps

tics. Nowadays, every spring, I have a
populous colony of her before my eyes in
one of the paths of my enclosure. When
the period for the works arrives, I surround
the hamlet with stakes to mark the site, lest
heedless footsteps should destroy the pretty
chimneys built of grains of earth.

The second, O. alpestris, Sauss., is by
trade a resin-worker. Possessing the same
tool as her colleague the miner, but not the
same skill, she does not dig herself a dwell-
ing; she prefers to settle down in borrowed
lodgings provided by an empty Snail-shell.
The shells of Helix nemoralis, of H. as-
persa,^ when very incompletely developed,
and of Bulimulus radiatus are the only
dwellings that I have known her to occupy
and also the only ones that would serve her
turn under the stone-heaps where, in com-
pany with Anthidium bellicosum, she per-
forms her labours in July and August.

Saved by the Snail from the hard task
of excavation, she specializes in mosaic and
produces a work of art which is superior
in elegance to the miner's temporary guil-
loche. Her materials are, on the one hand,
resin ; on the other, little bits of gravel. Her
method is very unlike that of the two resin-

^ The Common Snail. — Translator's Note.
178

The Nest-building Odynerus

workers who find a lodging in the shell of
the Edible Snail. These two swamp with
gum, on the outer surface of the lid, their
coarse, angular bricks, which are unequal
in size, variable in nature and often of a
half-earthy character, so that the uneven-
ness of the work, in which the pieces are
laid side by side at random, is hidden under
a coat of resin. On the inner surface the
gum does not fill the gaps and the cemented
fragments appear with all their irregular
projections and their clumsy arrangement.
Remember also that the bits of gravel are
kept exclusively for the operculum, or lid,
the final covering; the partitions which mark
off the cells are made entirely of resin,
without any mineral particles.

The Alpine Odynerus works on a differ-
ent plan: she saves pitch by making better
use of stone. A number of round, flinty
atoms are set in a bed of still sticky cement,
on the outer surface. They fit one against
the other, are almost all of the same size,
that of a pin's head, and are selected singly
by the artist amid the miscellaneous rub-
bish that litters the ground. When it is
well-executed, as is frequently the case, the
result suggests a piece of embroidery
worked with roughly-fashioned beads of
179

The Mason- Wasps

quartz. The Anthidia of the Snail-shell,
rude labourers that they are, accept all that
falls to their mandibles: angular splinters
of limestone, morsels of flint, bits of shell,
hard particles of earth; the daintier
Odynerus as a rule inlays with beads of
flint only. Can this taste for gems be due
to the brilliancy, the translucency, the polish
of the grain? Can it be that the insect
takes pleasure in its casket of precious
stones? The answer will be the same as
in the case of the ornamental rose-window,
the tiny shell sometimes inserted in the
centre of the lid by the two resin-gatherers
who inhabit the shell of the Edible Snail:
why not?

Be this as it may, the gem-collector is so
pleased with her pretty pebbles that she puts
them everywhere. The partitions that sub-
divide the shell into chambers are repro-
ductions of the lid: each has a carefully-
finished mosaic of translucent flints on the
front surface. In this manner three or
four cells are contrived in the shell of the
Edible Snail; in that of the Bulimulus, two
at most. The cells are small but correctly
shaped and strongly protected.

The protection, for that matter, is not
restricted to these multiple paved hangings:
i8o

The Nest-building Odynerus

if you hold the Snail-shell to your ear and
shake It, you hear a rattle of stones. The
Odynerus, in fact, is as familiar as the An-
thidia with the art of fortification by means
of barricades. I make a breach in the side
of the Snail-shell and pour out the heap of
loose gravel that blocks the vestibule be-
tween the last partition and the lid. One
detail should be noted: the materials which
1 collect are not homogeneous. Small pol-
ished pebbles predominate, but they are
mixed with fragments of coarse limestone,
bits of shell and particles of earth. The
Odynerus, so fastidious in choosing the flint
for her mosaics, employs for her filling the
hrst rubbish that comes to hand. Even so
do the two resin-gatherers act when barri-
cading their Snail-shells. As a conscien-
tious historian, I will add that the incoherent
heap of rubbish is not always there: an-
other point of resemblance with the prac-
tice of the Anthidia.

To my great regret, I can carry the bi-
ography of the Alpine Odynerus no farther
Ihe insect appears to me to be very rare
I come upon its nest at long intervals in
wmter, the only season propitious to labor-
ious searches in the stone-heaps. With the
dwelling and its inhabitant, hatched in my
i8i ^

The Mason-Wasps

specimen-jars, I am familiar; but the egg,
the larva and the provisions I do not know.

In compensation, I possess all the details
that could be desired about the third species,
O. nidulator, Sauss. This insect, like the
just mentioned, is ignorant of the art of
laying the foundations of its abode and
demands a ready-made lodging. Like the
Osmias, the Megachiles and the cotton-
spinning Anthidia, it wants a cylindrical
gallery, either natural or excavated by mi-
ners. Its art consists in partitioning a tun-
nel and subdividing it into chambers : plast-
erer's art, in short.

Here then, in three species, the only ones
whose habits I have had the opportunity of
learning, we see three very different trades:
the miner's, the resin-worker's and the plast-
erer's. In these three guilds I find exactly
the same equipment of tools; and I defy the
most meticulous magnifying-glass to tell us
what organic modification suggests to the
one insect the pavement of pebbles upon a
bed of resin, to the second the mine-shaft
with its guilloched chimney, to the third
the alien cylinder, partitioned with mud.
No and again no: the organ does not con-
stitute the function, the tool does not make
the workman. With similar implements,
182

The Nest-building Odynerus

the Odynerus group executes the most dis-
similar tasks, because each species has its
predetermined skill, its art that governs the
tool and is not governed by it. How
plainly this conclusion would appear had I
been privileged to review the entire Ody-
nerus genus ! How many industries remain
for us to see, with the tool undergoing no
rnodification ! I suggest investigations on
these lines to whomsoever it may concern,
were it only in order to shed a little light
upon this numerous and difficult group, of
which the future will, I trust, give us a lu-
cid classification based upon its industrial
guilds.

Let us leave these generalities and pass to
the detailed story of the Nest-building
Odynerus. There are few Wasps with
whose private life I am better acquainted;
and I owe this abundant information to cir-
cumstances which, for me, impart a double
value to the facts, because of the pleasant
memories evoked. I had often extracted
the Nest-building Odynerus' series of cells
from the old galleries of the Anthophorae;
I knew that the insect occupies dwellings not
dug with its own mandibles and that its la-
bours are confined to the partitions; I knew
Its yellow larva and its slender, amber-hued
183

The Mason- Wasps

cocoon. I knew nothing of all the rest,
when I received from my daughter Claire a
bundle of reed-cuttings which filled me with
exultation.

Brought up in a zoological house, the
dear child has retained a vivid memory of
our evening talks, in which the insect so
often cropped up; and her discerning eye
is able quickly to distinguish, amid her cas-
ual discoveries, anything that may assist me
in my studies of instinct. Her country
home, in the neighbourhood of Orange,
boasts a rustic poultry-house constructed
partly of reeds laid in horizontal stages.
In the middle of June last year (1889), she
noticed, when visiting her Hens, certain
Wasps making their way in large and busy
numbers into the cut reeds, coming out
again and soon returning laden with a load
of earth or some malodorous little grub.
Her attention once aroused, the rest did not
take long: she had discovered a magnificent
subject for me to study. That very even-
ing I received a bundle of reeds, with a let-
ter giving me circumstantial details.

The Wasp, as Claire called it and as Re-
aumur named it of old, when speaking of
a species of the same genus but of very dif-
ferent habits, the Wasp, so the letter told

The Nest-building Odynerus

me, hoards in her nests a dumpy head of
game, covered with black spots and smell-
ing strongly of bitter almonds. I informed
my daughter that this game was the larva
of the Poplar Leaf-beetle (Chrysomcla
poptili), a Beetle with red wing-cases re-
minding one, on a larger scale, of the Coc-
cinella, or Common Ladybird. Insect and
larva should be found together on the pop-
lars of the neighbourhood, browsing pro-
miscuously on the leaves. I added that a
glorious opportunity had presented itself
and that we must profit by it without delay.
She therefore received instructions to keep
a watch on this, that and the other and to
furnish my insect laboratory with reed-
stumps as and when they became colonized
and with poplar-branches covered with Chry-
somela-grubs. A collaboration was thus set
up between Orange and Serignan, the facts
observed on both sides mutually completing
and corroborating each other.

Let us come quickly to the bundle of
reeds, the first examination of which gratifies
my fondest hopes. It contains things that
reawaken all the enthusiasm of my youth :
cells converted into game-baskets, eggs on
the point of hatching beside the victuals,
new-born grubs biting into their first victim,
185

The Mason-Wasps

larvae of fuller growth, weavers at work on
their cocoons, in fact everything that one
could wish for. Never, except with the
Scolise in my heap of garden-mould,^ has
fortune served me better. Let us make an
orderly inventory of these rich documents.

Already various Bees that favour bor-
rowed houses have shown us the insect dis-
criminating between one dwelling and an-
other and selecting the best to make their
homes in. We now have a predatory
Wasp who, following the example of the
Osmias, the Leaf-cutters and the Cotton-
bees, leaves the ancestral cabin for the cyl-
inder of the reed, to which man's pruning-
knife has prepared the access. The na-
tural shelter, of indifferent quality, is suc-
ceeded by the artificial and more convenient
refuge. The Odynerus' primitive lodging
is the abandoned corridor of the Antho-
phora, or any other burrow dug in the earth
by no matter what miner. The wooden
tube, free from damp and bathed in sun-
shine, is recognized as preferable; and the
insect hastens to adopt it when the oppor-
tunity occurs. The tunnel of the reed must
be recognized as an excellent habitation,

1 Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. xi. —
Translator's Note.

z86

The Nest-building Odynerus

superior to all others, for never outside any
abode of Anthophorae have I seen a colony
of Odyneri so populous as that of the
Orange poultry-house.

The reeds invaded are laid horizontally,
a condition on which the Bees likewise insist,
if only to shelter from the rain the house-
door, plugged with pervious materials, such
as mud, cotton, or round, leafy disks.
Their inner diameter attains an average of
two-fifths of an inch. The length occupied
by the cells varies greatly. Sometimes the
Odynerus takes possession only of that
fragment of the interval between two knots
which the stroke of the pruning-knife has
left free, a fragment longer or shorter ac-
cording to the chances of the cutting. In
that case, a small number of cells is enough
to fill the available space. But generally, if
the stump be too short and not worth the
trouble of working, the insect bores through
the partition at the end and thus adds a
complete internode to the vestibule with the
open entrance. In a lodging of this kind,
some eight inches long, the number of
chambers will amount to fourteen or fifteen.

In thus enlarging* the house by remov-
ing a floor, the Odynerus displays two sepa-
rate talents, the plasterer's and the car-
187

The Mason-Wasps

penter's. Her knack for wood-working,
moreover, is extremely useful in another
circumstance, as we shall see. The Three-
horned Osmia, also an enthusiastic parti-
tioner of reeds, does not employ this means
of obtaining a spacious lodging at small
cost, I find that she always leaves the first
party-wall intact, building the row of cells
against it, however short the section may be.
To make an opening in a slight barrier is
not one of her methods. She could do it
if she wished; for to gnaw through the ceil-
ing of the cell on hatching and then through
the general door of the nest is a more diffi-
cult job. She possesses in her mandibles a
tool powerful enough for the purpose; but
she is not aware that a splendid gallery lies
beyond the obstacle. How did the Odyne-
rus learn, if she did not know from the be-
ginning, what the Osmia, with her greater
experience of the reed, does not know?

Apart from the ingenious device of
breaking down the party-wall in order to
enlarge the premises, the Odynerus is the
Osmia's equal as a plasterer and partition-
builder. The results of the two industries
resemble each other so closely that we
should easily confuse them if we merely ex-
amined the structure. We find in both
i88

The Nest-building Odynerus

cases, at irregular intervals, the same par-
titions, the same round disks of fine earth,
of mud gathered wet on the brink of an
irrigation-ditch or stream. Judging from
the appearance of the materials, I imagine
that the Odynerus has fetched her clay from
the banks of the neighbouring torrent, the
Aygues.

Identity of construction is maintained
even in details which I had at first regarded
as a feat peculiar to the Osmia. Let us
recall her compartment-building secret. If
the reed be of middling diameter, the cell is
first stocked with provisions and next
bounded in front with a partition run up
then and there, without any pause in its
construction. If the reed, without being ex-
cessively wide, be of a certain thickness, the
Osmia, before stowing away the victuals,
gets to work on the front partition, pro-
viding it with an opening at the side, a sort
of service-hatch, through which the honey
is more easily discharged and the egg more
easily placed In position. Well, this secret
of the service-hatch, which was revealed to
me by the glass tube, is as well-known to
the Odynerus as to the Osmia. She, too,
in the bigger reeds, finds it to her ad-
vantage to close the larder in front before
189

The Mason-Wasps

bringing the game; she shuts the cell with
a door provided with a sort of wicket,
through which the victualling and the lay-
ing are done. When everything is finished
inside, a plug of mortar closes the hatch.

I did not of course see the Odynerus
working at her partition with its wicket-
door, as I saw the Osmia performing in my
glass tubes; but the work itself speaks quite
plainly of the method followed. In the
centre of the partitions in the medium reeds
there is nothing in particular to be seen;
in the centre of the partitions in the larger
reeds there is a circular aperture, after-
wards filled with a plug, which always dif-
fers from the rest of the partition by pro-
jecting inwards and sometimes differs in
colour. The thing is obvious: the small
partitions are made in one spell, whereas
the work on the larger ones is interrupted
and then resumed.

As we see, it would be pretty difficult to
distinguish the Odynerus' nest from the
Osmia's, if our enquiries were confined to
the cells. One characteristic, however, and
not the least curious enables an attentive eye
to tell the owner without opening the reed.
The Osmia closes her dwelling with a thick
plug of earth similar in nature to that em-
190

The Nest-building Odynerus

ployed for the partitions. The Odynerus,
it goes without saying, does not neglect this
means of defence: she, too, makes a solid
stopper; but to the unsophisticated method
of the Osmia she adds the resources of
a more highly-finished art. Over her
earthen stopper, a thing liable to be spoilt
by frost and damp, she spreads, on the out-
side, a good thick layer of a composition
of clay and chopped-up woody fibres. It
matches the red wax with which we seal the
corks of our bottles.

These fibres, which resemble the remains
of a coarse tow retted by long exposure to
the air, I should be inclined to look upon as
taken from reeds spoilt by the rain and
bleached by the sun. The Odynerus planes
them off in shavings, which she afterwards
crumbles by chewing them. This is how
the Common Wasps and the Polistes work
on soft dead wood, when gathering the raw
material for their brown paper. But the
reed-dweller, who has no intention of em-
ploying her scrapings for paper-making,
does not cut up these fibrous particles any-
thing like so finely. She contents herself
with breaking them up and unravelling them
a little. Mixed with thick mud, the same
as that of the partitions and the final plug,
191

The Mason-Wasps

they make an excellent loam, which is far
less liable to go to pieces than unmixed clay
would be. The efficacy of this ingenious
stucco is evident. After some months of
exposure to the inclemencies of the weather,
the Osmia's door, made of earth only, is
very much dilapidated, whereas the Ody-
nerus' door, covered on the outside with a
layer of fibrous composition, remains intact.
Let us credit the Odynerus with inventing
and patenting the loam covering and pro-
ceed.

After the nest, the victuals. One sort of
game alone is served to the Odynerus' fam-
ily: this is the larva of the Poplar Leaf-
beetle (Chrysomela popiili, Lina p.), a
larva which, in company with the adult in-
sect, ravages the poplar-leaves at the end
of spring. Consulted merely by our taste,
the Odynerus' game is anything but enticing
in shape and still less in smell. It is a
plump, thickset grub, with a bare, flesh-
white skin covered with several lines of
glossy black dots. The abdomen, in par-
ticular, has thirteen rows of these black
spots, namely, four on the top, three on
each side and three underneath. The four
dorsal rows vary in structure : the two in the
middle consist of plain black specks; those
192

The Nest-building Odynerus

on either side consist of Httle pimples, each
shaped like a truncated cone with a minute
opening at the top. One of these cones
rises on the right and left of each abdominal
segment, except the last two; there is also
one on the right and one on the left of the
metathorax and mesothorax. These two
are larger than the others. There are nine
pairs of perforated pimples In all.

If we tease the creature, we sec welling
up from the bottom of these several little
craters an opalescent liquid, which runs and
spreads all over the larva. It has a strong
smell of bitter almonds, or rather of nitro-
benzene, commonly known as essence of
mirbane, a powerful and most repulsive
smell. The discharge of this substance is
a means of defence. We have only to
tickle the insect with a straw or to grip one
of its legs with the tweezers and the
eighteen scent-bottles at once begin to work.
Whoso handles the grub will find his fingers
stink and will throw away the noisome
perfumer In disgust. If the Chrysomela-
larva's object in placing nine pairs of nitro-
benzene-stills on its back was to repel man,
it has, I admit, thoroughly succeeded.

But man is the least of its enemies. Far
more formidable is the Odynerus, who
193

The Mason-Wasps

seizes the scented creature by the skin of the
neck and, despite its sprays of perfume, dis-
patches it with a few stings. This was the
bandit against whom, above all, it should
have defended itself; and the poor grub has
not been happily inspired in this respect.
Considering the huntress' exclusive taste for
this sort of game, we must presume that
the Chrysomela's drug-shop possesses a
delicious aroma in the Odynerus' opinion.
The defensive secretion becomes a deadly
bait. Even so with other means of pro-
tection: each advantage invariably has some
corresponding disadvantage.

I have read, I forget where, the story of
certain South-American Butterflies, some of
whom tasted bitter, others not. The first
were respected by the birds because of their
bitterness; the second were eagerly swal-
lowed. What did the persecuted insects
do? Unable to acquire the disagreeable
flavour of the bitter ones, they at least imi-
tated their shape and their costume. And
the birds were taken in by the fraud.

This was put forward as a striking proof
of evolution in view of the struggle for life.
I am repeating the story more or less cor-
rectly, as it lingers vaguely in my memory,

for I have never attached more import-
194

The Nest-building Odynerus

ance than they deserve to pretty inventions
of this kind. Is it really certain that the
pungent Butterflies escaped destruction be-
cause of their taste? Might there not be,
among the birds, a few passionate lovers
of bitters, to whom the defensive flavour
was, on the contrary, an added lure? My
two acres of pebbles tell me nothing of
things Brazilian; nevertheless I learn within
their four walls that a grub of detest-
able flavour, of the most repulsive aroma,
has, like the others, its appointed consumers
and very zealous consumers at that. If the
struggle for life made it acquire its scent-
bottles, then the struggle for life is a fool:
it should have left the creature without
them. In this way the enemy most to be
feared, the Odynerus, who is attracted by
the smell, would have been avoided.

The non-pungent Butterflies teach us
something more. In order to protect
themselves from the birds, they have imi-
tated the pungent ones' costume. Pray,
then, let some one tell us why, among so
many naked larvae on which the little birds
feast, not one has thought of assuming the
'Chrysomela's black-buttoned overall. Un-
able to provide themselves with stinking re-
torts, they should at least possess a colour-
195

The Mason-Wasps

able imitation, in order to put their per-
secutors off. The simple creatures! It
never entered their heads to protect them-
selves by mimesis! We will not blame
them; it is not their fault. They are what
they are; and no bird's beak will make them
change their costume.

The Chrysomela's defensive fluid has a
look of essential oil : it discolours paper with
a semitransparent stain which disappears by
evaporation. Its colour is opalescent; its
flavour is horrible; its odour is excessively
strong and may be compared with that
of the nitrobenzene of our laboratories.
Were it not that I lack the leisure and the
apparatus, I would gladly undertake a little
research-work into this singular product of
animal chemistry, which, I think, is quite as
worthy of exploration by our tests as the
milky exudations of the Salamander or the
Toad. Meanwhile I commend the problem
to the chemists.

In addition to the eighteen flasks of es-
sential oil, the grub possesses yet another
protective device, which is at once defensive
and locomotory. The end of the intestine
expands, at the insect's pleasure, into a
large amber-coloured pimple, whence oozes
a colourless or very pale-yellow liquid. I
196

The Nest-building Odynerus

find it difficult to distinguish the odour of
this liquid, because the strip of paper on
which 1 collect it is always infected by the
creature's mere touch. Nevertheless I
seem to recognize, in a fainter degree, the
smell of nitrobenzene. Can there be any
connection between the product of the dorsal
flask and that of the intestinal pimple?
There very well may be. I suspect, also,
that it possesses special virtues, for the
Odynerus, who is a fine judge in such mat-
ters, will tell us presently how greatly she
appreciates this liquid.

Before taking the evidence of the hunt-
ress, let us note that the grub employs its
anal pimple to move along with. Too
short in the legs, it is a sort of cripple using
its inflated stern as a lever. Another fact,
whose interest will appear at the proper
time, is that, at the moment of the meta-
morphosis, the larva fastens itself by the
anus to a poplar-leaf. The larval skin is
pushed back while it remains clinging; and
the nymph appears half-sheathed in this
slough. The nymph in its turn splits; the
perfect insect releases itself; and the two
cast-off suits of clothes, one partly enclosed
within the other, retain their place on the
leaf, fastened to it by the anal extremity.

197

The Mason-Wasps

The nymphosis takes about twelve days in
all. It would be irrelevant to linger any
longer over the larva of the Chrysomela ;
the little which it is expedient to say must
not exceed the limits of my subject, which
is the story of the Odynerus.

We know the game grazing on its poplar-
leaf in the sun; let us see it stowed away in
the larder. I count the number of head in
a reed-stump occupied by seventeen cells,
with their stores of food complete, or nearly
so, some still containing the egg, the others
a young larva attacking its first morsel. In
the best-provisioned cells ten grubs are
packed together; in those least well-supplied
there are only three. I perceive, more-
over, that, generally speaking, the abund-
ance of provisions diminishes in the upper
and increases in the lower stories, though
the order of progression is not always very
exact. The varying ration of the two
sexes is probably responsible : the males,
which are smaller and more forward, are
given the upper chambers, with a frugal
bill of fare; the females, which are larger
and more backward, are given the lower
chambers, with a plentiful table. Another
reason, I think, contributes to these varia-
tions in number, namely, the size of the

The Nest-building Odynerus

game, which is more or less young, more or
less plump.

Whether big or small, all the head of
game are absolutely motionless. Armed
with a magnifying-glass, I watch in vain for
any oscillation of the palpi, any quivering
of the tarsi, any pulsation of the abdomen,
symptoms of life so frequently observed
in the victims of the predatory Wasps.
There is nothing, ever. Can the larvae
stabbed by the Odynerus be really dead?
Can the provisions consist of actual corpses?
By no means: their profound inertia does
not preclude a remnant of life. The proofs
are striking.

To begin with, inspected cell by cell, my
bundle of reeds tells me that the big larvs,
those which have acquired their full de-
velopment, very often adhere by their
hinder part to the walls of the cell. The
meaning of this detail is evident. Cap-
tured when the metamorphosis was at hand,
the grub, despite the blows of the stiletto,
has made its usual preparations: it has hung
itself firmly to the adjoining support, the
earthen partition or the tube of the reed,
just as it fastens itself to the poplar-leaf.
The creature is so fresh in appearance and
its anal adhesion is so accurate that I ac-

199

The Mason-Wasps

tually hope to see the victim's skin split and
the nymph appear. My hope is not at all
exaggerated; it is based on facts no less
curious which I shall describe later.
Events did not respond to the probabilities
on which I all but relied. When removed
from the charnel-house with their point of
support and put in a safe place, none of the
larvae settled for the nymphosis went be-
yopd the preparatory action. This action
in itself, however, is eloquent enough: it
tells us that a remnant of life faintly ani-
mates the grub, since it retains power to
make the necessary arrangements for the
transformation.

That the grub is no corpse is revealed
in another manner. I place in glass tubes,
with a plug of cotton, twelve larva; removed
from the Odynerus' larders. The sign of
latent life is the creature's freshness and its
hue, a soft pinky white; the sign of death
and corruption is a brown colouring. Well,
eighteen days later one of the grubs be-
gins to turn brown. A second is seen to
be dead in thirty-one days. In forty-four
days, six are still fresh and full. Finally,
the last continues in good condition for two
months, from the i6th of June to the 15th
of August. It goes without saying that,
200

The Nest-building Odynerus

under the same conditions, larvas which are
really dead and unbruised, larvae asphyxi-
ated with bisulphide of carbon, turn brown
in a few days.

As I should have expected, the laying-
peculiarities of the Nest-building Odyne-
rus are precisely identical with those of
O. reniformis, the object of my earlier ob-
servations. I again witness, with the satis-
faction that results from verifying an in-
teresting fact, the curious arrangements al-
ready described. The egg is laid first,
right at the back of the cell. Next comes
the stacking of the provisions in the order
of capture. In this way the eating pro-
ceeds from the oldest to the most recent.

I was above all anxious to ascertain
whether the egg was pendulous, that is to
say, whether it hung by a thread at one
point of the cell, in accordance with what
I had learnt from the Eumenes and from
O. reniformis. A kinswoman of the latter
must, I felt certain beforehand, conform to
the method of the suspension-cord; but
there was reason to fear that the journey
from Orange and the jolting of the cart
might have broken the delicate pendulum.
I recalled my anxieties, my minute precau-
tions, during the removal of the cells with

The Mason-Wasps

the egg of 0. reniformis swinging from the
ceiling. The cart, ignorant of its precious
burden, might have undone everything.

But no, to my great surprise. In most
of the cells which were sufficiently recent I
find the egg in place, slung sometimes from
the arched roof of the reed, sometimes from
the upper edge of the partition, by a thread
which is just visible and about one twenty-
fifth of an inch long. The egg is itself
cylindrical and measures about an eighth
of an inch. The reeds, opened wide and
placed in glass tubes, enable me to witness
the hatching, which takes place three days
after the closing of the cell and probably
four days after the laying.

I see the new-born grub enclosed almost
wholly, head downwards, in the sheath pro-
vided by the pellicle of the egg. Very
slowly it slides forward in this scabbard and
the suspension-cord stretches to the same ex-
tent. It is extremely fine in the part con-
sisting of the original thread, but very much
thicker in the portion resulting from the
slough of the egg. The grub's head
reaches the nearest piece of game at one
point or another; and the fragile creature
takes its first mouthful. If anything
startles it, if I tap the reed, it lets go and

202

The Nest-building Odynerus

withdraws a little way into the sheath of
the egg; then, reassured, it once more glides
forward and resumes the point attacked.
At other times a jerk leaves it indifferent.
This suspension-stage of the new-born larva
continues for about twenty-four hours, after
which the grub, now somewhat fortified, lets
itself drop and eats in the ordinary manner.
The victuals last it for twelve days. Im-
mediately afterwards comes the working of
the cocoon, in which the insect remains, a
yellow larva, until next May. It would be
tedious to follow the Odynerus in its career
of eating and weaving. The consumption
of dishes highly spiced with nitrobenzene and
the spinning of the cocoon, of a fine amber-
coloured fabric, involve nothing so remark-
able as to deserve special mention.

Before leaving this subject, I will state a
problem which the pendulous egg sets to the
embryogenist. Every insect's egg, if cyl-
indrical in form, has two poles, the front and
back, the cephalic and the anal pole. By
which of the two does the insect see the
light?

By the hinder pole, the Eumenes and the
Odyneri tell us. The end of the egg fas-
tened to the wall of the cell was evidently
the first to issue from the oviduct, in view
203

The Mason-Wasps

of the mother's absolute need first to glue
the suspension-thread somewhere, before
abandoning her egg to space. In the ova-
rian tubes and in the oviduct, which are
too narrow to allow of an inversion, the
anal pole therefore passes first. Pointing
in the same direction as the egg, the new-
born grub will thus hang head downwards,
with its hinder end uppermost, at the end of
its thread.

By the front pole, the Scoliae, the Spheges
and the Ammophilse in their turn reply, as do
all the Hunting Wasps that fix the egg to
some portion of the victim. It is, indeed,
always by the cephalic end that the egg ad-
heres to the prey, at a definite point selected
by the mother's prudence; for the safety of
the nurseling and the preservation of the vic-
tuals demand that the first bites shall be
taken here and here only. For the same
reasons as above, the extremity fastened to
the game has emerged into the light of day
before the other.

Both these opposite testimonies are
equally truthful. According as its destiny
is to be glued to the wall of the cell or to
be kept away from it on another support,
the egg takes its plunge into life by the
front pole or the rear pole, which requires
204

The Nest-building Odynerus

an inverse direction in the ovaries and the
oviduct In this manner the new-born grub
ahvays has its food under its mandibles;
and its utter lack of experience does not ex-
pose it to the danger of death from in-
anition in front of a heap of provisions
which its mouth would not yet be able to
seek and find. There is the problem. I
beg and entreat the embryogenists to solve
it, without reference to preordination, with
the sole aid of protoplastic energy.

To know the Odynerus in the privacy of
her home was not enough: the thing was to
see her also at work as a huntress. How
does she capture her game? How does she
operate on it, in order to keep it fresh while
deprived of life and movement? What is
her surgical method? As, for the moment,
I knew of no smallest colony of the Chry-
somela's persecutor in my neighborhood, I
put the matter to Claire. She was on the
spot, in daily contact with the Hen-house
where the memorable events that form the
subject of this essay occurred; and — a
most important circumstance — I knew her
to be both quick-witted and willing. She
accepted the burdensome task with en-
thusiasm. I, on my side, was, if possible,
to attempt certain observations with the cap-
205

The Mason-Wasps

tive insect. So as not to influence each
other in our appreciation of facts which, by
their rapidity, might leave room for doubt,
we each agreed to keep our results secret
until we were both certain of our data.

Fully instructed as to what to do, Claire
begins. She soon discovers on the banks
of the Aygues some poplars covered with
Chrysomela-larvae. From time to time an
Odynerus arrives, alights upon a leaf and
goes off again with her capture in her legs.
But things arc happening too high up; de-
tailed inspection of the struggle between the
huntress and the victim is impracticable.
Moreover, the appearances of the Ody-
nerus on the tree which was being watched
among so many others, all equally pro-
pitious to the chase, occur at long intervals,
which try the patience beyond all bounds.
Tenacious in her desire to see, to learn and
to be useful to me, my zealous collaborator
bethinks herself of an ingenious expedient.
A young poplar, with a wealth of Chryso-
melae, is pulled up, together with the lump
of earth clinging to it. Lavish precautions
are taken to avoid the shocks which, du-
ring the uprooting and the removal, mi^ht
cause the herd of larvae to drop off. The
business is so successfully done that the tree
206

The Nest-building Odynerus

arrives without a hitch at its destination, in
front of the Hen-house. It is put back in
the earth immediately facing the reeds
wherein the Odynerus makes her dwelling.
No matter whether it takes root again or
not, provided that the little tree keep fresh
for a few days with abundant watering:
that is all that is wanted.

After installing her observatory, Claire
proceeds to lie in wait, hiding behind some
branches beside the poplar, whose foliage is
in full view. She watches in the morning;
she watches when the heat of the day has
come; she watches in the afternoon. Next
day, she begins again; on the day after that,
she is still at it; and so she continues until
at last fortune smiles upon her. O blessed
patience, of what are you not capable 1 The
swarm of Odyneri, out in search of larvae,
were, on their return, warned by the smell
of nitrobenzene of the presence of the trans-
planted and game-laden poplar. Why make
distant expeditions when the quarry abounds
outside one's door? The little tree was
extensively exploited. Under such condi-
tions the huntress was not long in revealing
the secret of her tactics. Over and over
again Claire witnessed the act of murder by
the dagger. But she paid dearly for satisfy-

207

The Mason-Wasps

ing our common curiosity; she had to keep
her room for several days as a result of sun-
stroke. For that matter, she was prepared
for the misadventure, well knowing, from
my own example, that this is the assured re-
ward of observations made beneath an im-
placable sun. May the eulogies of science
repay her for a little headache! The re-
sults of her watches agreed at all points with
those of my own. I shall explain them by
telling what I saw myself.

Now for my turn. When the bundle of
reeds selected by the Odyneri reached me,
I was occupied with a most interesting quest-
ion, as will be proved by the details reserved
for another chapter.^ I was endeavouring
to make the various Hunting Wasps, the
species of whose prey was known to me,
operate under a wire cover in my insect
laboratory. This would determine the pre-
cise spots into which the sting was driven.
My captives, confronted with their ordinary
game, for the most part refused to un-
sheathe their weapons^ others, less intent
upon outdoor hunting, accepted the offer and
stabbed their victims under my magnifying-
glass. Why should not the Nest-building
Odynerus be among these bold ones?

1 Not yet published in English. — Translator's Note.
208

The Nest-bullding Odynerus

We will try. I have plenty of Chryso-
mela-grubs, received from Orange; I keep
them under a wire-gauze dome, with an eye
to their metamorphoses and their perfume-
stills. The game is at hand; the huntress is
lacking. Where shall I catch her? I have
only to ask Claire, who will hasten to send
her. This is a sure expedient, but I hesi-
tate to employ it: I fear lest the insect
should reach me demoralized by the jolting
of the cart and the tedium of a long cap-
tivity. To this bored and wearied creature
an encounter with the Chrysomela will al-^
most surely be a matter of indifference. I
must have something better: I want the in-
sect captured that moment with its aptitudes
in their prime.

In front of my door is a field of yellow
fennel-flower, an ingredient of that ill-
famed liquor, absinthe. From its umbels
Wasps, Bees and Flies of all sorts drink
their fill. Let us take the net and see.
The banqueters are numerous. I inspect
the rows of plants amid the drinking-songs,
the buzzing and the shrilling of the insects.
Praise the Lord, here is the Odynerus! I
catch one, I catch two, I catch six of them
and I hurry back to my workroom. Fate

is favouring me beyond my desires: my
209

The Mason-Wasps

six captures belong to the Nest-buUding
Odynerus and all the six are females.
Any one passionately interested in a pro-
blem and suddenly discovering the data re-
quired for its solution will understand my
emotion. The joy of the moment has its
anxious side: who knows what turn things
will take between the huntress and the
quarry? I shift an Odynerus and a Chry-
somela-larva into a bell-glass. To stimu-
late the assassin's ardour, I set the glass
cage in the sun. Here is the story of the
drama, told in detail.

For a good quarter of an hour, the cap-
tive clambers up the sides of the bell-glass,
crawls down again and up again, seeking an
outlet whereby to escape, and seems to pay
no attention to the game. I was already
despairing of success when suddenly the
huntress falls upon the larva, turns it over,
belly upwards, clasps it and stings it thrice
in succession in the thorax, particularly un-
der the neck, in the median region, a point
at which the sting is more insistent than
elsewhere. The close-clasped larva does its
utmost to protest, emptying its scent-bottles
and oiling itself with petrol; but these de-
fensive tactics have no effect. Indifferent to
the heady perfume, the Odynerus performs

2IO

The Nest-building Odynerus

her operation, wielding her lancet with the
same certainty as if the patient were scent-
less. Thrice the sting is driven in, to kill
the motor nerves in the three ganglia of
the thorax. I repeat the experiment with
other subjects. Few refuse to attack the
prey; and each time three stings are admin-
istered with marked insistence at the point
under the neck. What I saw under arti-
ficial conditions Claire, on her side, saw un-
der conditions of liberty, in the open air, on
the leaves of the transplanted poplar. The
two collaborators, she and I, arrived at pre-
cisely the same result.

The operation is rapidly performed.
Then the Odynerus, while dragging her
prey along, belly to belly, munches at its
neck for a considerable time, but without
causing any wound. This action may well
be equivalent to the practice of the Lan-
guedocian Sphex and the Hairy Ammo-
phila,^ when, without inflicting a bruise, the
one nibbles at the neck of her Ephippiger and
the other at that of her Grey Worm, in or-
der to compress and paralyse the cervical
ganglia. I of course take possession of the
torpid larvsE. The victim is absolutely in-

1 The Hur.iinx Wasps: chaps, viii. to x. and xviii. —
Translator's Note.

211

The Mason-Wasps

ert, save for a slight quivering of the legs,
which soon ceases. When laid upon its
back, the larva no longer stirs. It is not
dead, however; that 1 have been able to
prove. Its dull vitality is affirmed in an-
other manner. During the first few days
of this lethargy which knows no awakening,
droppings are ejected until the intestine is
empty.

On renewing my experiments, I witness
something so singular that I am at first
baffled. This time the prey is seized by the
anal extremity and the sting is driven sev-
eral times into the last segments, under-
neath the abdomen. This is the usual op-
eration reversed and performed upon the
hinder segments, instead of those of the
thorax. The surgeon and the patient, who
are head to head in the normal method, are
in the present instance head to tail. Can it
be by inadvertence that the operator is con-
fusing the two ends of the grub and sting-
ing the tip of the abdomen under the im-
pression that she is stinging the neck? I
believe it for a moment, but am soon unde-
ceived. Instinct does not make mistakes of
this sort.

For now, having finished thrusting with
her sting, the Odynerus clasps the creature

212

The Nest-building Odynerus

and begins slowly, with great bites of the
mandibles, to munch the last three seg-
ments, on the dorsal surface. A manifest
gluttony accompanies these bites; all the
mouth-parts are brought into play, as
though the insect were feasting on some ex-
quisite dish. Meanwhile the grub, bitten to
the quick, desperately works its short legs,
whose activity is not at all diminished by the
stings administered behind; it struggles vio-
lently, protesting with its head and man-
dibles. The other takes no notice and con-
tinues gnawing at the larva's rump. This
lasts for ten or fifteen minutes; then the
bandit releases the sufferer and leaves it
where it lies, without troubling about it any
further, instead of carrying it with her as she
would not fail to carry game intended for
the nest. Soon afterwards, the Odynerus
begins to lick her fingers, as though she had
been consuming some toothsome dainty: time
after time she passes her tarsi between her
mandibles; she is washing her hands after
rising from table. What has she been eat-
ing? I must once more watch the epicure
squeeze the juice from the rump.

Ever obliging, provided that I practise a
little patience, my six captives, one after the
other, operate on the Chrysomela-larvse, at
213

The Mason-Wasps

one time in front, as game for the family, at
another behind, as a little addition to their
own diet. The honey with which I serve
them on spikes of lavender does not make
them forget this horrible treat. The tac-
tics employed in obtaining it, though the
same in the general aspect, vary in detail.
The larva is always seized by the hinder end
and the stings are administered in succession
from back to front, on the ventral surface.
Sometimes the abdomen only is attacked,
sometimes the thorax also, when the victim
is deprived of all movement. Evidently
the object of these stings is not the immo-
bility of the larva, since the latter can move
quite well, ambling along, wounded though
it be, when the sting has not gone higher
than the abdomen. Inertia is indispensable
only in the case of victuals intended for the
cells. If the Odynerus is working on her
own behalf and' not for her family, it mat-
ters little to her whether the grubs whose
dainties she covets struggle or not; it is
enough if all resistance in the part to be
exploited is abolished by paralysis. This
paralysis, moreover, is quite accessory; and
each huntress neglects or practises it at will,
bearing more or less forward, without any
fixed rule. When the sated Odynerus re-
214

The Nest-building Odynerus

leases the grub whose rump she has been
chewing, it is sometimes therefore inert, like
those intended for the cells, and sometimes
endowed with almost as much activity as the
untouched grubs, from which it differs only
by the absence of its anal pimple, its sup-
port which reminds us of a cripple sitting in
a bowl.

I examine the helpless ones. The anal
blister has disappeared, nor can I make it
reappear by squeezing the tip of the abdomen
with my fingers. For the rest, in the place
of this blister my pocket-lens shows me torn,
rugged tissues; the end of the intestine is in
tatters. Every elsewhere all around are
bruises and contusions, but no gaping
wounds. It is with the contents of the
blister then that the Odynerus so deliciously
slakes her thirst. When she munches the
last two or three segments, she is milking
the grub after a fashion; by means of the
pressure, which favours the paralysis of the
abdomen, she makes the rectal humour flow
into the pocket, which she then rips open in
order to sip the contents.

What is this humour? Some special

product, some mixture of nitrobenzene? I

cannot say for certain. I know only that

the insect employs it in self-defence. When

215

The Mason-Wasps

frightened, it exudes it to ward off the as-
sailant. The anal reservoir begins to work
when the first little drop appears from the
scent-bottles. What shall we say of this
protective device which becomes the cause of
excruciating torture? Unsophisticated crea-
tures, acquire the power of stinking, after
this; distil benzene; become bitter if you were
not bitter before: you will always find a
devourer to scrunch you, an epicure to nibble
your rump! South-American butterflies,
pray take note!

I will not close the lamentable history of
the Chrysomela-grub without telling what
becomes of the creature after this horrible
mutilation. The complete inertia produced
by the thoracic injuries has nothing to teach
us that we do not already know from the facts
perceived in the larvae destined for the cells.
We will therefore consider the case in which
the grub is stung three or four times at the
tip of the abdomen only. I secure the crea-
ture when the Odynerus abandons it, after
greedily munching the last three segments
and scraping out the end of the intestine,
whose defensive and locomotory pimple has
disappeared. These three segments are
bruised and of a sickly colour; but I cannot
discover the least rent in the skin. The ab-
216

The Nest-building Odynerus

domen is paralysed. The insect no longer
uses its anal lever when walking. The legs
are perfectly mobile and the grub employs
them : it crawls, it drags itself along, pro-
gressing with a vigour which would be nor-
mal but for the obstruction of the hind-
quarters. The head also moves; the
mouth-parts snap as usual. Apart from the
paralysis of the abdomen and the mutilation
of the rectum, the victim is in every respect
the same as the lusty larva, browsing peace-
fully on the poplar-leaf. We have here a
magnificent demonstration of the principle
before which certain peevish objections are
bound to fall to the ground : the effect of the
sting is not felt, at least not at first, except
at the points attacked. The sting strikes
the nerve-centres of the abdomen and the
abdomen is paralysed; it spares the thorax
and the legs and head both remain active.
Ten hours after the operation, I examine
the grubs again. The hind-legs are tremu-
lous and are no longer of use for locomo-
tion. Paralysis is overtaking them. Next
day, they are inert; so are the middle legs.
The head and the fore-legs are still work-
ing. On the day after, the whole grub is
motionless, except the head. Lastly, on
the fourth day, the creature is dead, really
217

The Mason-Wasps

dead, for it shrivels, dries up and goes
black, while the larvae subjected to the tho-
racic operation with a view to being used
for provisions remain full and fresh-col-
oured for weeks and months. Did the
grub die of its stings in the abdomen? No,
for the others, stung in the thorax, do not
die. It is the Odynerus' cruel tooth and
not the sting that killed it. With the tip
of the abdomen crushed under the man-
dibles and the intestinal capsule pulled out
by the roots, life has ceased to be possible.

218

CHAPTER IX

INSECT GEOMETRY

THE industry of insects, especially that of
the Bees and Wasps, abounds in tiny
marvels. Newly manufactured with the
cotton supplied by various fluff-covered
plants, the nest of certain Anthidia forms
an exquisitely graceful pouch. It is accur-
ately fashioned, white as snow, pleasing to
the eye and softer to the touch than Swan's-
down. The Humming-bird's nest, a bowl
hardly half the size of an apricot, is by
comparison a piece of clumsy felt.

But this perfection is. of brief duration.
The artist is hampered by the exigencies of
the space at her disposal. Her workshop
is a chance shelter, a tunnel incapable of
modification, which she has to use as she
finds it. In this narrow retreat, therefore,
the cotton purses are placed in a row, each
compressing the others and distorting their
form; they are welded at either end to their
neighbours, till the whole becomes a lumpy
pillar m.oulded to the volume of the con-
tainer. For lack of space, the weaver has
219

The Mason-Wasps

been unable to continue her textile fabric in
accordance with the exquisite design dic-
tated by her instinct. A length of rope, of
indifferent merit, takes the place of the
superb masterpiece of felt which the An-
thidium would have created had she been
working at isolated cells.

The Chalicodoma of the Walls, when
building on a pebble, first raises a turret
of faultless geometrical proportions. The
dust scraped from the hardest spots in the
highways and kneaded with saliva provides
the mortar. To make a more solid job of
things and also to economize cement, which
takes a long time to collect and prepare,
tiny bits of gravel are encrusted in the
outer surface before the material sets. In
this way the initial building becomes a rus-
tic rockwork fortress, which is quite pretty to
look at.

Using her trowel freely, the Mason-bee
has builded after the prototype of her art,
the cylinder adorned with a mosaic pattern.
But other cells, at least a dozen, are to fol-
low. Necessities now obtrude themselves
from which the first piece of work was ex-
empt; that which will soon be building is
subordinated to that which is already built.

The solidity of the whole requires that

220

Insect Geometry

the turrets leaning one against the other
shall form a solid mass; and economy of
material demands that the same partition-
wall shall serve for two adjoining cells.
These two conditions are incompatible with
the regulation architecture, for grouped
cylinders touch only along a line, affording
no appreciable area of common partition-
wall; they leave between them unoccupied
intervals, which would prejudice the general
stability. What does the builder do to
remedy these two defects?

She abandons the normal outline and
modifies it according to the space at her
disposal. She alters the shape of the cyl-
inder, not as regards the interior, which is
still kept rounded to suit the convenience of
the larva, the future inhabitant, but as re-
gards the outer envelope, which becomes ir-
regular and polygonal, filling the interstices
with its angles.

The exquisite geometry promised by the
turret first constructed is perforce aban-
doned when the complete edifice has to
consist of a mass of cells in juxtaposition.
Inexactness follows exactness even more no-
ticeably at the end of the task. Anxious to
strengthen her work and enable it to resist
the attacks of the weather, the mason plas-

221

The Mason-Wasps

ters it with a thick layer of mortar. Mo-
saic encrustations, round mouths, closed
with a lid, and cylindrical bastions: all these
disappear, submerged by the defensive cas-
ing. To look at, there is nothing left but
a clod of dried mud.

The simplest of round bodies, the cyl-
inder, stands likewise as the model for the
jam-pot wherein the Pelopaeus stacks her
Spiders. With mud collected from the
edge of a pool, the huntress begins by build-
ing a turret ornamented with diagonal loz-
enges. Unhampered by its surroundings,
this structure, the first of the group, is of a
perfection that gives us a high opinion of
the builder's talent. It is fashioned like a
segment of a twisted column. But other
cells follow which, leaning one against the
other, produce a mutual distortion. For
the same reasons, namely, economy of ma-
terial and general solidity, the beautiful or-
donnance promised at the outset is wanting;
crowding leads to irregularity. A thick
layer of cement ends by deforming the
structure altogether.

Let us next consider the Agenia, who
rivals the Pelopaeus as a huntress and a
worker in clay. She encloses the one
Spider who forms her larva's ration in an

Insect Geometry

earthenware shell hardly as large as a
cherry-stone and embellished on the outside
with a tiny milled pattern. This little gem
of ceramics is an ellipsoid truncated at one
end. When the structure stands alone, its
accuracy of form is perfect.

But the potter's ware does not end with
this. The place of refuge discovered in
some crevice in a sunny wall is a valuable
site, where the whole family will take up its
abode. More preserve-jars are therefore
fashioned, sometimes arranged in a row,
sometimes collected in a group. Though
constructed according to a fixed type, the
ellipsoid, the new structures depart, some
more, some less, from the ideal model.
Welded together, end to end, they lose the
smooth nipple of the ellipse and replace it by
the sudden truncation of the barrel. When
they are joined lengthwise, the belly of the
barrel becomes flattened; when they are
massed together anyhow, they become al-
most unrecognizable. Nevertheless, as the
Agenia, unlike the Pelopaeus, never covers
her collection of pots with a casing, her
work retains Its distinctive features fairly
well, thanks to the thoroughness with which
the artist has stamped her trade-mark upon
it.

223

The Mason-Wasps

The pottery of the Eumenes Is of a
higher order: it favours a bulging cupola,
like that of the Turkish kiosk or the Mo-
scow basihca. At the summit of the dome
is a short opening, like the mouth of an
amphora, through which the caterpillars in-
tended for the larva's consumption are intro-
duced. When the larder is full and the egg
slung from the ceiling by a thread, the bell-
mouthed neck of the cell is closed with a clay
stopper.

As a rule, in these parts, E. Amadei
builds on a big pebble. She adorns her cu-
pola with angular bits of gravel, half buried
in the plaster; on the stopper closing the
mouth she places a little flat stone, or even
a Snail-shell, selected from among the small-
est. The earthenware casemate, well-baked
by the sun, is supremely graceful.

Well, this elegant structure is doomed to
disappear. Around her cupola the Eume-
nes builds others, using as walls what she
has already built. Henceforth the exact
circular form is no longer practicable. In
order to occupy the reentrant angles, the
new cells themselves become angular and
assume an undecided, polyhedral form.
Only the edges of the mass and the top re-
tain traces of the regulation plan. The
224

Insect Geometry

nest as a whole shows a nippled surface en-
crusted with broken flint. Each nipple cor-
responds with a cell, which may always be
known by its amphora-like mouth, a part
which is not misshapen, because it has been
fashioned without impediment. In the ab-
sence of this certificate of origin, we should
hesitate before recognizing the work of an
expert dome-builder in the shapeless blob.

E. unguicidata does worse. After build-
ing, on some big stone, a group of cells
which, in shape, ornamental encrustation
and bell-mouthed neck, rival those of E.
Amadei, she buries the whole under a layer
of mortar. She imitates the Chalicodoma
and the Pelopaeus, who, for reasons of do-
mestic safety, follow up artistic daintiness
with the uncouthness of the fortress. In-
spired by a system of aesthetics which no-
thing is able to evade, both insects begin by
creating beauty; dominated by the fear of
danger, they end by creating ugliness.

Other Eumenes, on the contrary, of
smaller size, build cells which are always
isolated and which often have the twig of a
shrub for a support. The structure is a
cupola, similar to those already mentioned,
and, like them, provided with a graceful
neck, but without the gravel mosaic. The
225

The Mason-Wasps

tiny fabric, no bigger than a cherry, does
not admit of this rustic ornamentation.
The potter replaces it by a few specks of
clay distributed here and there.

The Eumenes who build a succession of
cells in groups are compelled to deform the
chamber under construction according to the
space left by those preceding it; for the
beautiful curve of their original design they
substitute, by force of circumstances, the un-
pleasing broken line. The others, those
who build each cell in isolation, are far from
perpetrating such inaccuracies. From first
to last, as many as the establishment of the
larvae requires, now on this twig, now on
that, the cells are built of an identical shape,
just as though they had issued from the
same mould. Now that nothing hinders
the exact application of the rules, order re-
turns and produces a series of structures
which are no less perfect at the end than
at the beginning.

If the insect were to build a general shel-
ter, in which each larva had its individual
box, what would this building, this common
home of the family, be? On condition, of
course, that no obstacle intervene, the work
will always be correct in its geometry, which
will vary according to the builder's speci-
226

Insect Geometry

ality. I could draw you a child's balloon
than which none prettier was ever inflated in
toyland, or, for that matter, in fairyland; and
it would be exactly like the nest of a Median
Wasp (Vespa media, De Geer). The per-
son who gave me this marvel found it hang-
ing from the lower edge of a shutter which
was left open for the greater part of the
year.

Possessing liberty of action in all direc-
tions, except at the point of contact with
the shutter, the Wasp followed the rules of
her art without impediment. With a paper
of her own manufacture, tough and flexible
as the silk papers of China and Japan, she
contrived to expand her work into a seg-
ment of an ellipsoid, with a cone added to
it by means of a gentle curve. A like as-
sociation of forms artistically combined is
found in the Sacred Beetle's pears. ^ The
slender Wasp and the heavy Dung-beetle,
employing dissimilar tools and materials,
work after the same pattern.

Ill-defined spiral bands tell us how the
Wasp went to work. With her pellet of pa-
per-pulp in her mandibles, she moved down-
wards in a slanting direction, following the

1 Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others, by J. Henri Fabre,
translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattoa: chap. iv. —
Translator's Note,

22;;

The Mason-Wasps

margin of the part already constructed and
leaving as she went a ribbon of her material,
still quite soft and impregnated with saliva.
The work was discontinued and resumed
hundreds and hundreds of times, for the
supply was soon exhausted. The Wasp
had to go to some woody stem hard by, a
stem retted by the moist air and bleached
by the sun, and scrape it with her teeth; she
had to tear out its fibres, to divide them, un-
ravel them and work them up into a plastic
felt. When the pellet was removed, the
Wasp hastened back to resume her inter-
rupted ribbon.

There was even the collaboration of sev-
eral builders. The foundress of the city,
the mother, alone at the outset and ab-
sorbed by family cares, was able only to
make a rough beginning of the roof; but
offspring arrived, neuters,^ eager assistants
henceforth charged with the continuing and
enlarging of the dwelling, in order to provide
the one mother with a lodging to contain
the whole of her eggs. This gang of pa-
per-makers, coming one by one to take part
in the labour, or perhaps working with-
out any common agreement, several at a
time, at different points, so far from pro-

1 Sexually undeveloped females. — Translator's Note.
228

Insect Geometry

ducing confusion, achieves perfect regularity.
By slow degrees the spacious dome of the
summit decreases in diameter; by degrees
it tapers into a cone and ends in a graceful
neck. Individual and almost independent
efforts result in an harmonious whole.
Why?

Because these building insects possess an
innate geometry, an order of architecture
v/hich is known without being taught and
which is constant in the same group, while
varying as between one group and another.
Just as much as the details of the organism,
or perhaps even more so, this propensity to
build according to certain determined rules
characterizes the corporations known by the
name of species. The Chalicodoma of the
Walls has her earthen tower, the Pelopaeus
her twisted clay cylinder, the Agenia her
urn, the Anthidium her cotton wallet, the
Eumenes her open-mouthed cupola and the
Wasp her paper balloon. And so with the
others : each has her own art.

Our builders contrive and calculate be-
fore they set to work. The insect di-
spenses with these preliminaries; it knows
nothing of the hesitations of apprentice-
ship. From the laying of the first stone it
is a past master of its craft. It builds with
229

The Mason-Wasps

the same accuracy and the same uncon-
sciousness as those displayed by the mollusc,
which coils its shell in a scientific spiral; if
nothing hinders its aims, it always achieves
a graceful and wisely economical structure.
But, when a number of cells mutually
hamper one another, the regulation plan,
without being abandoned, undergoes altera-
tions imposed by lack of space. Massing
leads to irregularity. Here, as with us,
liberty makes for order and constraint for
disorder.

We will now open the nest of the balloon-
building Wasp. Here is something that
we did not expect. Instead of one en-
velope there are two, one enclosed within
the other, with a slight interval between.
There would have been even more, three
or four of them, had not impatient hands,
eager to bring me the masterpiece, culled
it before it reached perfection. The nest
is incomplete, as is proved by the single
story of cells. A perfect Wasps'-nest would
contain several stories.

No matter: such as it is, this work shows
us that the chilly Wasp was acquainted with
the art of preserving heat before we were.
Physics teaches us the efficacy of a cushion
of air, motionless between two walls, as a
230

Insect Geometry

preventive against cooling; it recommends
the use of double windows to maintain a
mild temperature in our houses in winter.
Long before the days of human science, the
little Wasp, that passionate lover of
warmth, knew the secret of multiple enve-
lopes containing layers of air. With its
three or four balloons, fitting within one
another, her nest, hanging in the sun, must
turn into a vapour-bath.

These paper containers are merely de-
fensive works; the actual city, for which all
the rest has been built, occupies the top of
the dome. It consists at present of a single
layer of hexagonal cells, open below.
Later on, other, similar layers would have
been added, descending in stages and each
connected with its predecessor by little
papier mdche columns. The aggregate of
these layers, or combs, would supply not far
short of a hundred cells, the lodgings of as
many larvae.

The method of rearing imposes on the
Social Wasps rules unknown to the other
builders. These latter store in each cell
provisions — honey or game — apportioned
to the grub's needs. The egg once laid,
they close the cell. The rest does not
concern them: the immured larva will find
231

The Mason-Wasps

all around it the wherewithal to nourish it-
self and to thrive without outside help.
Under these conditions, the irregular group-
ing of the cells is of trifling importance;
disorder even is admissible, provided that
the whole group be in a place of safety, if
need be under the cover of a protective cas-
ing. Richly supplied with provender and
tranquil in its crypt, none of the recluses
expects anything from the outer world.

Among the Social Wasps a very different
order of things obtains. Here the larvae,
from the beginning to the end of their
growth, are incapable of sufficing unto them-
selves. Like little birds in the nest, they
are fed by mouth; like babies in the cradle,
they need constant attention. The workers,
who are celibates expressly appointed to
perform household labours, come and go
incessantly, from bed-chamber to bed-
chamber; they awaken the sleepy larvae,
wash them with a lick of the tongue and
disgorge, from mouth to mouth, the ration
of the moment. So long as the larval state
continues there is no end to these alimentary
kisses between the nurselings gaping with
hunger and the nurses returning from the
fields, their crops swollen with pap.

Nurseries of this kind, which, in the
232

Insect Geometry

case of various Social Wasps, number their
cradles by the thousand, require ease of
inspection, quickness of attendance and
therefore perfect order. Whereas it
makes no difference to the Chalicodomae, the
Eumenes and the Pelopsei whether their
cells be grouped without any great pre-
cision, since, once provisioned and sealed,
they will not be visited again, it is important
to the Social Wasps that theirs should be
arranged methodically, for otherwise the
enormous household, degenerating into a tur-
bulent mob, could not possibly be served.

To lodge the mother's inexhaustible sup-
ply of eggs, they have to build for her,
within a limited space, the greatest possible
number of cells, all of a capacity determined
by the ultimate size of the larvae. This con-
dition exacts a strict economy of the available
building-site. No empty gaps, therefore,
which would take up unnecessary room and
moreover compromise the general solidity of
the structure.

Nor is this all. The business-man says to
himself:

" Time is money."

The Wasp, no less busy, says to herself:

" Time is paper; paper means a more spa-
cious dwelling, holding a larger population.
233

The Mason-Wasps

Let us not waste our materials. Each par-
tition must serve two neighbouring apart-
ments."

How will the insect set about solving its
problem? To begin with, it abandons any
circular form. The cylinder, the urn, the
cup, the sphere, the gourd, the cupola and
the other little structures of their customary
art cannot be grouped together without leav-
ing gaps; they supply no party-walls. Only
flat surfaces, adjusted according to certain
rules, can give the desired economy of space
and material. The cells therefore will be
prisms, of a length calculated by that of the
larvse.

It remains to decide what form of polygon
will serve as the base of these prisms. First
of all, it is evident that this polygon will be
regular, because the capacity of the cells has
to be constant. Once the condition obtains
that the grouping must be effected without
gaps, figures that were not regular would be
subject to variation and would give different
capacities in one cell and another. Now of
the indefinite number of regular polygons only
three can be constructed continuously, with-
out leaving unoccupied spaces. These three
are the equilateral triangle, the square, and
the hexagon. Which are we to choose?
234

Insect Geometry

The one that will approximate most
closely to the circumference of a circle and
hence be best adapted to the cylindrical form
of the larva; the one that, with a containing
wall of the same extent, will yield the great-
est capacity, a condition essential to the free
growth of the grubs. Of the three regular
figures that can be assembled without vacant
intervals, our geometry suggests the hexagon;
and it is the hexagon and none other that is
chosen by the geometry of the Wasps. The
cells are hexagonal prisms.

Every high and harmonious achievement
finds supersubtle minds that strive to degrade
it. What has not -been said on the subject of
hexagonal cells, above all on the subject of
the Bee's, which are arranged in a double
layer and united at the base? Reasons of
economy of both wax and space demand that
this base shall be a pyramid formed of three
rhombs with angles of fixed value. Scientific
calculations tell us the value of these angles
in degrees, minutes and seconds. The gonio-
meter subjects the work of the Bee to exami-
nation and finds that the value is precisely
calculated to degrees, minutes and seconds.
The insect's work is in perfect agreement
with the nicest speculations of our own geo-
metry.

235

The Mason-Wasps

There is no room for the glorious problem
of the Bee-hive in these elementary essays.
Let us confine ourselves to the Wasps. It
has been said:

*' Fill a bottle with dried peas and add a
little water. The peas, in swelling, will be-
come polyhedrons by mutual pressure. Even
so with the Wasps' cells. The builders work
in a crowd. Each builds at her own will,
placing her work in juxtaposition to her
neighbours'; and the reciprocal thrusts pro-
duce the hexagon."

A preposterous explanation, which no one
would venture to suggest if only he had con-
descended to make use of his eyes. Good
people, why not look into the early stages of
the Wasp's work? This is quite easy in the
case of the Polistes, who builds in the open,
on a twig of some hedge-plant. In the
spring, when the Wasps'-nest is founded,
the mother is alone. She is not surrounded
by collaborators who, vying with her in zeal,
would place partition against partition. She
sets up her first prism. There is nothing to
hamper her, nothing to impose one form
upon her rather than another; and the ori-
ginal cell, free from contact in every direc-
tion, is as perfect an hexagonal prism as the
rest will be. The faultless geometry of
236

Insect Geometry

the structure asserts Itself from the outset.

Look again when the comb of the Polistes
or any Social Wasp that you please is more or
less advanced, when numbers of builders are
at work upon it. The cells at the edge, most
of them still incomplete, are free as regards
their outer halves. So far as this part is
concerned there is no contact with the preced-
ing row of cells; no limit is imposed; and
yet the hexagonal configuration appears as
plainly here as elsewhere. Let us abandon
the theory of mutual pressure: a single
glance of the least discernment contradicts it
flatly.

Others, with more scientific, that is to say,
less intelligible ostentation, substitute for the
contact of the swollen peas the contact of
spheres which, with their intersections and
by virtue of an unseeing mechanism, lead to
the superb structure of the Bees. The theory
of an order emanating from an Intelligence
watchful over all things is, to their thinking,
a childish supposition; the riddle of things is
explained by the mere potentialities of chance.
To these profound philosophers, who deny
the geometrical Idea Which rules the forms
of things, let us propound the problem of the
Snail.

The humble mollusc coils its shell accord-
237

The Mason-Wasps

Ing to the laws of a curve known as the loga-
rithmic spiral, a transcendental curve com-
pared with which the hexagon is extremely
simple. The study of this line, with its re-
markable properties, has long delighted the
meditations of the geometricians.

How did the Snail take it as a guide for
his winding staircase? Did he arrive at
it by means of intersecting spheres, or
other combinations of forms dove-tailed one
into the other? The foolish notion is not
worth stopping to consider. With the Snail
there is no conflict between fellow-work-
ers, no interpenetration of similar, adjoining
structures. Quite alone, completely isolated,
peacefully and unconsciously he achieves his
transcendental spiral with the aid of glaire-
ous matter charged with lime.

Did the Snail even invent this cunning
curve himself? No, for all the molluscs with
turbinate shells, those which dwell in the sea
and those which live in fresh water or on
land, obey the same laws, with variations of
detail as to the conoid on which the typical
spiral is projected. Did the present-day
builders accomplish it by gradually improv-
ing on an ancient and less exact curve? No,
for the spiral of abstract science has presided
over the scrollwork of their shells ever since
238

Insect Geometry

the earliest ages of the globe. The Cera-
tites, the Ammonites and other molluscs
prior in date to the emergence of our conti-
nents coll their shells in the same fashion as
the Planorbes ^ of our books.

The logarithmic spiral of the mollusc is as
old as the centuries. It proceeds from the
sovran Geometry Which rules the world, at-
tentive alike to the Wasp's cell and to the
Snail's spiral.

" God," says Plato, " is ever the great
geometer: 'Aet 6 0£os,y£o/x£Tper."

Here truly is the solution of the problem
of the Wasps.

1 A widejy-distributed genus of Pond-snails. — Trans-
lator's Note.

239

CHAPTER X

THE COMMON WASP

TN September, with my little son Paul, who
"*■ lends me his good sight and his artless
attention, undisturbed as yet by anxious
thoughts, I sally forth at a venture, quest-
ioning the edges of the foot-paths with my
glance. At twenty yards' distance my com-
panion has just seen rising from the ground,
shooting up and flying away, now one and
now another swiftly moving object, as though
some tiny crater in eruption in the grass were
hurling forth projectiles.

" Wasps'-nest ! " he cries. " Sure as any-
thing, a Wasps'-nest! "

We approach discreetly, fearing to attract
the attention of the fierce community. It is
indeed a Wasps'-nest. At the entrance to the
vestibule, a round opening large enough to
admit a man's thumb, the inmates come and
go, busily passing one another in opposite di-
rections. Brrr! A shudder runs through
me at the thought of the unpleasant time
which we should have were we to draw the
attack of the irascible soldiery by too close an
240

The Common Wasp

inspection. Without making further investi-
gations, which might cost us dear, let us mark
the spot. We will return at nightfall, when
the whole legion will have come home from
the fields.

The conquest of a nest of Common Wasps
(Vespa vulgaris, LiNN.) would be a rather
serious undertaking if one did not practise a
certain prudence. Half a pint of petrol, a
reed-stump nine inches long, a good-sized
lump of clay or loam, ready tempered by
kneading: such is my equipment, which I
have come to consider the best and simplest,
after various trials with less effectual means.

The asphyxiating-method is indispensable
here, unless we employ costly expedients
out of all keeping with my resources. The
excellent Reaumur, when he wanted to place
a live Wasps'-nest in a glass case, with a
view to observing the habits of the Inmates,
had willing lackeys, seasoned to their pain-
ful job, who, allured by a handsome reward,
paid for the scientist's gratification with their
skins. I, who should have to pay with my
own skin, think twice before digging up the
coveted nest. I begin by suffocating the in-
habitants. Dead Wasps do not sting. It is
a brutal method, but perfectly safe.

Besides, I have no need to revise the ob-
241

The Mason-Wasps

servatlons of the Master, himself so capable
an observer. My ambition is limited to cer-
tain matters of detail, which I shall be able
to study with a small number of survivors.
These I can spare by moderating the dose of
asphyxiating-fluid.

I use petrol by preference because it is
cheap and because its effects are less over-
whelming than those of bisulphide of carbon.
The question is how to introduce it into the
cavity containing the Wasps'-nest. A ves-
tibule, or entrance-passage, about nine inches
long and very nearly horizontal, gives access
to the underground chambers. To pour the
liquid straight into the mouth of this tunnel
would be a blunder that might have grievous
consequences at the moment of excavation.
So small a quantity of petrol would be ab-
sorbed by the soil on its way to the nest and
would never reach its destination; and next
day, when we might think that we were dig-
ging without risk, we should find an infuri-
ated swarm under the spade.

The bit of reed prevents this mishap. In-
serted into the gallery, it forms a water-
tight conduit and conveys the liquid to the
cavern without the loss of a drop. A fun-
nel is useful, as It enables us to pour the liquid
quickly. The entrance to the dwelling Is
242

The Common Wasp

forthwith tightly stoppered with the lump of
clay which we bring with us ready kneaded,
for most often there is no water on the spot.
We have now nothing to do but wait.

Carrying a lantern and a basket with the
implements, Paul and I set out, at nine
o'clock in the evening, to perform an opera-
tion of this sort. The weather is mild and
the moon gives a little light. The farm-
house Dogs are bandying distant yelps; the
Screech-owl is hooting in the olive-trees; the
Italian Crickets ^ are performing their sym-
phony in the bushes. And we chat about in-
sects, the one asking questions, eager to
learn, the other telling the little that he
knows. Delightful nights of Wasp-hunting,
you well atone for our loss of sleep and make
us forget the stings which are likely to incur!

Here we are! The pushing of the reed
into the passage is the most delicate matter.
Sentries may well emerge from this guard-
house and attack the operator's hand during
the hesitation caused by the unknown direc-
tion of the gallery. The danger is provided
for. One of us keeps watch; he will drive
away the assailants with his handkerchief,
should any appear. Besides, an idea is not

1 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps, xiv. and xvi.
— Translator's Note.

243

The Mason-Wasps

so very expensive if we acquire it at the cost
of a swelling and a smart itching.

This time there is no mishap. The con-
duit is in place; it sends the contents of my
flask streaming into the cavern. We hear
the threatening buzz of the underground
population. Quick, the wet clay, to close the
door; quick, a kick or two of the heel upon
the clod, to consolidate the closing! There
is nothing more to be done. It is striking
eleven; let us be off to bed.

Provided with a spade and trowel, we are
back on the spot at dawn. Numbers of
Wasps, belated in the fields, have been out
all night. They will turn up as we are dig-
ging, but the chill of the morning will render
them less aggressive; and a few flicks of the
handkerchief will be enough to make them
keep their distance. Let us hasten there-
fore, before the sun grows hot.

A trench of sufl^cient width to give us free-
dom of rriovement is dug in front of the en-
trance-passage, whose position is indicated
by the reed, which remains where it was.
Next, the perpendicular side of the ditch is
carefully cut away in slices. Thus conducted,
at a depth of some twenty inches, our digging
at last reveals the Wasps'-nest intact, slung
from the roof of a spacious cavity.
244

The Common Wasp

It is indeed a superb acliievement, as large
as a fair-sized pumpkin. It hangs free on
every side, except at the top, where various
roots, mostly rootstocks of couch-grass, pene-
trate the thickness of the wall and fasten the
nest firmly. Its shape is round wherever the
softness and the homogeneous character of
the ground have permitted a symmetrical ex-
cavation. In stony soil, the sphere becomes
misshapen, a little more here, a little less
there, according to the obstacles encountered.

A space of a hand's breadth is always left
open between the paper monument and the
sides of the subterranean vault. This is the
wide street along which the builders move
unhindered at their continual task of enlarg-
ing and strengthening the nest. The one
lane by which the city communicates with the
outer world opens into it. The unoccupied
space under the nest is much greater. It
is rounded into a big basin which allows the
general wrapper to be enlarged as fresh lay-
ers of cells are added to those above. This
receptacle, shaped like the bottom of a cop-
per, is also the great cess-pool into which the
multitudinous refuse of the Wasps'-nest falls
and accumulates.

The size of the cavern raises a question.
The Wasps themselves dug the cellar. Of
245

The Mason-Wasps

that there is no doubt: cavities like this, so
large and so accurately formed, do not exist
ready-made. That the mother foundress at
the beginning, working by herself and eager
to get on quickly, availed herself of some
chance refuge, due perhaps to the excava-
tions of the Mole, is possible; but the rest
of the work, the making of the enormous
crypt, was done by the Wasps alone. Then
what has become of the rubbish, the mass
of earth whose bulk would be that of a cube
measuring some twenty inches on every side?

The Ant erects the excavated material into
a cone-shaped hillock on the threshold of her
abode. With her two or three bushels of
earth, what a mound would not the Wasp
achieve, if heaping were her habit! But
far from it: she leaves not a scrap of rub-
bish outside her door; everything is perfectly
tidy. What has she done with the cum-
brous mass?

The answer is supplied by various peace-
able insects which are easy to observe. Con-
sider a Mason-bee clearing an old nest which
she proposes to use; watch a Leaf-cutter
cleaning out an Earth-worm's burrow in
which to stack her leafy bags. Holding a
trifle of some sort in their teeth, a shred of
silky tapestry or a crumb of earth, they fly off
246

The Common Wasp

at a furious speed, to drop their infinitesimal
load at a distance. Then they immediately
face about, return to the workshop and un-
dertake a new flight out of all proportion to
the result achieved. The insect, one would
think, is afraid to encumber the site by
merely brushing the tiny fragments away
with its feet; it must take to its wings to di-
sperse its insignificant sweepings afar.

The Wasps work in the same manner.
There are thousands and thousands of them
digging at the cellar and enlarging it as the
need occurs. Each carrying her particle of
earth in her mandibles, they gain the outer
world, fly to a distance and drop their
burden, some nearer, some farther away, in
all directions. Thus distributed over wide
areas, the excavated earth leaves no visible
trace.

The material of the Wasps'-nest is a thin,
flexible brown paper, streaked with paler
bands, according to the nature of the wood
utilized. Made in a single, continuous
sheet, according to the methods of the
Median Wasp (Vespa media), this sub-
stance would constitute an indifferent pro-
tection against the cold. But, while the bal-
loon-maker understands the art of preserv-
ing heat by means of a cushion of air con-
247

The Mason-Wasps

tained between several wrappers enclosed
one within the other, the Common Wasp,
no less versed in the laws of thermal science,
arrives at the same result by different means.
With her paper-pulp she manufactures broad
scales which overlap loosely and are super-
imposed in numerous layers. The whole
forms a coarse blanket, of a thick, spongy
texture and well-filled with stagnant air.
The temperature under such a shelter, in the
hot weather, must be truly tropical.

The fierce Hornet (Vespa crabo, Linn.),
chief of the Wasp clan by virtue of her
strength and her warlike audacity, con-
forms to the same principles of the globular
configuration and of air imprisoned between
partition-walls. In the cavernous hollow of
a willow or in the recesses of some empty
granary, she manufactures a yellow, striped,
very brittle cardboard, composed of an
agglomeration of woody fragments. Her
spherical nest is wrapped in an enclosure of
broad convex scales, a sort of tiles which,
welded to one another and arranged in mul-
tiple layers, leave between them wide in-
tervals in which the air is held motionless.

To employ an athermous substance such as
air, in order to check the loss of heat; to an-
ticipate our manufacturers of eiderdown
248

The Common Wasp

quilts; to give the containing walls of the nest
the shape that encloses the greatest capacity
within the smallest wrapper; to adopt as a
cell the hexagonal prism, which economizes
space and material; these are scientific actions
that accord with the data of our physics and
geometry. We are told that the Wasp, pro-
ceeding from improvement to improvement,
worked out her sensible building for herself.
I cannot believe this when I see the whole
nest perish, a victim to my tricks, which
would easily have been baffled if the insect
possessed the least power of reflection.

These wonderful architects amaze us by
their stupidity in the presence of a trifling dif-
ficulty. Outside their work of the moment
there is a complete absence of all lucidity
such as the progressive invention of the nest
would demand. Of the various tests that
assure me of this, I will mention the follow-
ing, which is easily made.

The Common Wasp has chanced to set
up her dwelling in the enclosure. The estab-
lishment is beside one of the walks. No
member of the household dares venture in
that part; it would be dangerous to go near
it. We must rid ourselves of these bad
neighbours, who terrify the children. It
will also be a good thing to profit by this ex-
249

The Mason-Wasps

cellent opportunity of experimenting with ap-
pHances which could not be used in the open
fields, where the little country bumpkins
would soon smash my glass to bits.

All that is required is a large chemist's
bell-glass. At night, when all is dark and
the Wasps have gone home, I place it over
the entrance of the burrow, after first flat-
tening the soil. To-morrow, when the
Wasps resume their labours and find them-
selves checked in their flight, will they suc-
ceed in contriving a passage under the rim
of the bell-glass? Will these sturdy work-
ers, who are capable of digging a spacious
cavern, realize that a very short subter-
ranean tunnel will set them free? That is
the question.

To-morrow arrives. The bright sunlight
falls upon the glass container. The work-
ers ascend in a crowd from under ground,
eager to go in search of provisions. They
butt against the transparent wall, tumble
down, pick themselves up again and whirl
round and round in a crazy swarm. Some,
weary of dancing this continual saraband,
alight on the ground, wander peevishly at
random and then reenter their dwelling.
Others take their places as the sun grows
hotter. Well, not one of them, note this,
250

The Common Wasp

not one of them scratches with her feet at
the base of the treacherous circle. This
means of escape is too far above their men-
tal capacity.

A few Wasps have spent the night out of
doors. Here they are, coming in from the
fields. Round and round the bell-glass they
fly; at last, after much hesitation, one of
them decides to dig under the edge of the en-
closing wall. Others are quick to follow her
lead. A passage is opened without diffi-
culty. The Wasps go in. I do not interfere
with them. When all the loiterers have re-
entered the nest, I close the breach with some
earth. The narrow opening, if seen from
within, might help the Wasps to escape; and
I wish to leave the prisoners the honour of
inventing the liberating tunnel.

However poor the Wasp may be in judi-
cious inspirations, escape has now become
probable. Benefiting by their recent experi-
ence, the loiterers who have just entered will,
I thought, set the others an example; they
will teach them the tactics of digging at the
base of the rampart.

I judged my diggers too hastily. Of ex-
ample set and taken, of learning by ex-
perience, there is not a sign. Inside the bell-
glass not an attempt is made to employ the
251

The Mason-Wasps

method which succeeded so well in the case
of the home-comers. The insect population
whirls round and round in the torrid atmos-
phere of the glass, but indulges in no enter-
prise. It flounders about, decimated from
day to day by famine and the excessive
heat. At the end of a week, not a creature
is left alive. A heap of corpses covers the
ground. Incapable of any innovation in its
customs, the city has perished.

This inept behaviour reminds me of the
story of the wild Turkeys as told by Audu-
bon.^ A bait consisting of a few grains of
millet lures them into a short underground
passage, which leads to the centre of a wat-
tled cage. When fed to repletion, the flock
is ready to depart; but to use for their de-
parture the way by which they entered,
though it still yawns in the centre of the en-
closure, is a manoeuvre of too high an order
for the stupid Turkeys. This path is dark,
whereas daylight shines between the bars.
The birds therefore revolve indefinitely
against the trelliswork, until the trapper ar-
rives and wrings their necks.

An ingenious Fly-trap is employed in our

ijohn James Audubon (1780-1851), a noted American
ornithologist of French descent, author of The Birds of
America, which was published by subscription ,(1827-
1830) at $1,000 a copy. — Translator's Note.
252

The Common Wasp

homes. It consists of a water-bottle with an
opening at the bottom and standing on three
low supports. Inside, some soap-suds form
a ring-shaped lake around the orifice. A
lump of sugar, placed beneath the entrance,
acts as the bait. The Flies make for the
sugar. On leaving it, seeing the light above
them, they rise with a vertical flight and enter
the trap, where they wear themselves out,
beating their wings against the transparent
wall. All perish by drowning, because they
are incapable of the rudimentary notion of
going out by the way they came.

Even so with the Wasps under my bell-
glass : they know how to get in, but do not
know how to get out. On ascending from
their burrow, they go to the light. Finding
broad daylight in their transparent prison,
they consider their aim accomplished. An
obstacle checks their flight, it is true; no
matter: the whole area is brightly lit up;
and this is enough to delude the prisoners,
who, despite the continual warning of their
collisions with the glass, endeavour, obsti-
nately and without attempting anything else,
to fly farther in the direction of the luminous
void.

The Wasps returning from the fields are
in a different situation. They are passing
253

The Mason-Wasps

from light to darkness. Moreover, even
without the intervention of the experi-
menter's wiles, they are sure occasionally
to find the threshold of their dwelling ob-
structed by fallen earth, the result of rain or
of the feet of the passers-by. The next ac-
tion of the homing Wasps is bound to fol-
low: they search about, sweep, dig and end
by finding the entrance-tunnel. This power
of scenting their house through, the soil and
this eagerness to clear the doorway of their
dwelling are innate aptitudes : they form part
of the resources bestowed upon the species
for its preservation in the midst of daily ac-
cidents. Here there is no need of reflection
or calculation: the earthy obstacle has been
familiar to one and all since Wasps first came
into the world. They therefore scrape and
go in.

At the foot of the bell-glass, the same
order of things obtains. Topographically,
the position of the Wasps'-nest is perfectly
well-known; but direct access has become im-
possible. What is to be done? After a
brief hesitation, the process of digging and
clearing is adopted according to ancient cus-
tom; and the difficulty is overcome. In
short, the Wasp knows how to reenter her
home, in spite of certain obstacles, because
254

The Common Wasp

the action here accomplished conforms with
what is always done in similar circumstances
and does not call upon the shadowy intellect
for any fresh gleam of light.

But she does not know how to get out,
though the difficulty remains precisely the
same. Like the Turkey of the American
naturalist, she is defeated by this problem:
to recognize as good for going out the road
which was recognized as good for going in.
Impatient to escape, both bird and insect rush
frantically to and fro, exhausting themselves
in their striving towards the light; and
neither pays any attention to the under-
ground passage, which would so readily give
them their liberty. Neither of them thinks
of it, because to do so would require a little
reflection and would thwart the impulse of
the moment, which is to flee far into the day-
light. Wasps and Turkeys alike perish,
rather than improve the present by the les-
sons of the past, when called upon to modify
their usual tactics be it ever so slightly.

The Wasp has been extolled for Inventing
the round Wasps'-nest and the hexagonal
cell, that is to say, for rivalling our geome-
tricians in solving the problem of the forms
which are most economical of space and ma-
terial. Men attribute to her ingenuity the

255

The Mason-Wasps

magnificent discovery of the surrounding
wrapper cushioned with air, than which bur
own physicists could imagine no better pro-
vision against cold. And these superb in-
ventions are supposed to have been achieved
quite simply by the clumsy intellect which is
unable to use an entrance-door as an exit-
door I Such marvels inspired by such inep-
titude leave me profoundly incredulous.
Actions of this kind have a higher origin.

We will now open the thick envelope of
the nest. The interior is occupied by the
combs, or disks of cells, lying horizontally
and fastened one to the other by solid pillars.
The number varies. Towards the end of
the season it may be as many as ten, or even
more. The orifice of the cells is on the
lower surface. In this strange world, the
young grow, sleep and receive their food
head downwards.

For service-purposes, open spaces, with
rows of connecting pillars, divide the various
stories. Here is a continual coming and go-
ing of nurses, busily attending to their grubs.
Lateral doorways, between the outer en-
velope and the stack of combs, give easy ac-
cess to every part. Lastly, on one side of
the wrapper, the open gate of the city stands,
devoid of architectural adornment, a modest
256

The Common Wasp

aperture lost among the thin flakes of the sur-
rounding surface. Facing it is the under-
ground vestibule leading to the outer world.

The cells of the lower combs are larger
than those of the upper; they are set aside
for the rearing of the females and the males,
while those in the stories up above serve for
the neuters, who are a little smaller. At
first the community requires, before all else,
an abundance of workers, of celibates ex-
clusively addicted to work, who enlarge the
dwelling and prepare it to become a flourish-
ing city. Preoccupations for the future be-
long to a later stage. More capacious cells
are constructed, some intended for the males,
others for the females. According to figures
which I will give later, the sexed population
represents about one-third of the whole.

Let us also observe that, in a Wasps'-nest
which has reached an advanced age, the cells
in the upper stories have their walls gnawed
right down to the base. They are ruins of
which naught remains but the foundations.
Useless from the moment when the com-
munity, now rich in workers, has only to be
completed by the appearance of the two
sexes, the tiny chambers have been pulled
down; and their paper, once more reduced
to pulp, has been used for the construction
257

The Mason-Wasps

of the large cells, which form the cradles of
the sexed grubs. With the additional ma-
terial brought from without, the demolished
cells have served for building new and big-
ger cells; they have also perhaps provided
the wherewithal for a few more scales to
the outer wrapper. Sparing of her time,
the Wasp does not trouble to exploit distant
sources when she has available materials in
the house. She knows as well as we do how
to make old things into new.

In a complete nest the total number of
cells amounts to thousands. Here, for ex-
ample, are the statistics of one of my speci-
mens. The combs are numbered in the or-
der of seniority: the oldest and therefore the
topmost in the stack is no. i ; the most recent
and therefore the undermost is no. lo.

Combs, in their

Diameter,

Number

order from top

to bottom

inches

celis

3-94

300

6.28

600

7.87

2,000

945

2,200

9.84

2,300

10.23

1,300

9-45

1,200

9.06

1,000

7.87

700

5.12

Total

300

. .. .11,900 cells.

258

The Common Wasp

Obviously the figures in this table must be
regarded as approximate. The number of
cells varies greatly in different nests and
cannot be calculated very accurately. The
counting is correct, in the case of each comb,
to a hundred or so. Despite the elasticity
of these figures, my result agrees very well
with that obtained by Reaumur, who, in a
nest of fifteen combs, counted sixteen thou-
sand cells. The master adds:

" With only ten thousand cells, as there is
perhaps not a cell which does not, on an av-
erage, serve to rear three larvae, a Wasps'-
nest produces over thirty thousand Wasps a
year."

Thirty thousand, say the statistics. What
becomes of this multitude when the bad
weather arrives? I shall find out. We are
now in December; there are occasional
frosts, though they are not yet very serious.
I know of a nest. I owe it to the man who
provides me with Moles, a worthy fellow
who, for a few halfpence, makes good the
poverty of my vegetable-beds with his own
produce. Despite the inconvenience which
the proximity caused him, he has preserved
the nest for me in his garden, among the
259

The Mason-Wasps

cauliflowers. I can visit it at any moment
that I consider opportune.

The moment has come. Preliminary as-
phyxiation with petrol is no longer necessary:
the cold weather will have calmed the fierce
ardour of the inmates. The torpid insects
will be pacific enough : with a little caution
I shall be able to molest them with impunity.
Early in the morning, then, the investing-
trench is dug with the spade, amid the grass
white with hoar-frost. The work proceeds
satisfactorily. Not a Wasp stirs. Here is
the nest facing us, hanging from the roof of
the cavern.

At the bottom of the crypt, rounded like
a basin, lie the dead and dying; I could pick
them up by the handful. It looks as though
the Wasps, when they feel their strength fail
them, leave their dwelling and allow them-
selves to fall into the catacombs of the bur-
row. It may even be the duty of the able-
bodied ones to cast the dead out of the nest.
The paper tabernacle must not be defiled by
corpses.

Dead Wasps likewise abound in the open
air, on the threshold of the crypt. Did they
come to die there of their own accord? Or
did the survivors, as a hygienic measure,
carry them out of doors? I incline to the
260

The Common Wasp

idea of the summary funeral. The dying in-
sect, still kicking, is seized by one leg and
dragged to the Gemoniae. The night cold
will kill it outright. These brutal obsequies
tally with other instances of savagery, to
which we shall return.

In this double cemetery, inside and out-
side the burrow, the three classes of the popu-
lation are represented promiscuously. The
neuters are the most numerous; next come
the males. That these should disappear is
quite natural; their part is played. But the
future mothers, the femals with flanks rich
in eggs, these also perish. Fortunately the
Wasps'-nest is not yet entirely deserted.
Through a rent I can see a swarm amply
sufficient for my plans. We will take the
nest away with us and arrange matters for
an observation which will last some time and
which can be conducted leisurely at home.

The nest will be more convenient to watch
if dismembered. Cutting the connecting pil-
lars, I separate the shelves of combs and
stack them afresh, giving them a wide frag-
ment of the wrapper as a roof. The Wasps
are then re-established in their dwelling, but
in limited numbers, to avoid the confusion of
a crowd. I keep the more able-bodied and
reject the others. The females, the chief
261

The Mason- Wasps

object of my examination, are not far from
a hundred strong. Peaceable now and half-
numbed, the population of the nest may
safely be subjected to this sifting and shift-
ing. Tweezers are all that I need. The
whole nest, installed in a large earthen pan,
is covered with a wire-gauze dome. We
have only to follow events day by day.

Two factors of decay seem to play a lead-
ing part when the Wasps'-nest is depopulated
on the advent of the bad weather: hunger
and cold. In the winter there is no more
provender, no more sweet fruit, the Wasps'
principal food. Lastly, notwithstanding their
underground shelter, the frost puts an end to
the starved creatures. Is this really what
happens? We shall see.

The pan containing the Wasps is in my
study, where a fire is lit daily in winter, partly
for my benefit and partly for that of my in-
sects. It never freezes there; and the sun
shines into the room for the greater part of
the day. In this mild retreat the risks of
depopulation by cold are eliminated. Nor is
there any fear of famine. Under the wire
cover is a saucer filled with honey; grape-
pips, furnished by my last bunches kept on
the straw, vary the diet. With such pro-
visions as these, if any deaths occur among
262

The Common Wasp

the swarm, starvation will not be responsible.

Matters being thus arranged, all goes
fairly well in the beginning. After hiding
between the combs at night, the Wasps come
out when the sun shines on the wire cover.
They emerge into the light and stand in it,
pressed closely one against the other. Pre-
sently they become more animated: they
climb to the wire roof, move idly to and fro,
descend and quench their appetite at the pool
of honey or at the grape-pips. The neuters
take to flight, wheel round, cluster on the
trelliswork; the bravely-horned males curl
their antennae with quite a sprightly air; the
heavier females take no part in these di-
versions.

A week goes by. The visits to the re-
fectory, though brief, seem to speak of a
certain well-being; nevertheless, without ap-
parent cause, mortality now makes a sudden
appearance. A neuter is resting in the sun,
motionless, on the side of a comb. There is
nothing about it to denote ill-health. Sud-
denly it drops down, falls on its back, moves
its abdomen for a moment, kicks its legs about
and all is over: it is dead.

As for the females, they too give me cause
for alarm. I surprise one as she is crawling
out of the nest. Lying on her back, she
263

The Mason-Wasps

stretches her limbs, twitches her abdomen
and, after a few convulsions, lies absolutely
still. I believe her dead. She is nothing of
the sort. After a sun-bath, a sovran cordial,
she recovers her legs again and goes back
to the stack of combs. Yet the resuscitated
Wasp is not saved. During the afternoon
she is seized with a second fit, which this
time leaves her really lifeless, with her legs
in the air.

Death, if it be only the death of a Wasp,
is always a solemn thing, worthy of our
meditation. Day by day, with a curiosity
not devoid of emotion, I watch the end of
my insects. One detail especially strikes me :
the neuters succumb suddenly. They come
to the surface, slip down, fall on their backs
and rise no more, as though they were struck
by lightning. They have had their day;
they are slain by age, that inexorable toxin.
Even so does a piece of clockwork become
inert when its mainspring has unwound its
last spiral.

But the females, the last-born of the com-
munity, far from being overcome by decrepi-
tude, are, on the contrary, just entering upon
life. They have the vigour of youth; and
so, when the winter sickness seizes them,
they are capable of a certain resistance,
264

The Common Wasp

whereas the old workers perish suddenly.
In the same way, the males, so long as their
part is not played out, resist the cold fairly
well. My cage contains a few, always
nimble and alert. I see them making ad-
vances to their companions, without greatly
insisting. They are repulsed with a friendly
push of the leg. The time is past for the
raptures of the pairing. Those lingerers
have let the right moment slip ; they will die
useless.

The females whose end is near are easily
distinguished from the others by the disorder
of their appearance. Their backs are dusty.
Those who are hale and hearty, once they
have taken their meal on the brim of the
saucer of honey, settle in the sun and dust
themselves without ceasing. There is an in-
cessant brushing of the wings and abdomen,
with gentle, sensitive extensions of the hind-
legs; the fore-legs repeatedly stroke the head
and the thorax. Thus the black-and-yellow
costume is kept perfectly glossy. Those
who are ailing, careless of cleanliness, stand
motionless in the sun or wander languidly
about. They no longer brush their clothes.

This indifference to dress is a bad sign.
Two or three days later, in fact, the dusty
female leaves the nest for the last time and
265

The Mason-Wasps

goes on the roof, to enjoy yet a little of the
sunlight; then, her nerveless claws relinquish-
ing their hold, she slides quietly to the
ground and does not get up again. She de-
clines to die in her beloved paper home,
where the code of the Wasps ordains abso-
lute cleanliness.

If the neuters, those fierce hygienists, were
still there, they would seize the helpless crea-
ture and drag her outside. Themselves the
first victims of the winter evil, they are lack-
ing; and the dying Wasp proceeds to per-
form her own funeral rites by dropping her-
self into the charnel-pit at the bottom of the
cavern. For reasons of health, an indi-
spensable condition with such a multitude,
these stoics refuse to die in the actual house,
among the combs. The last survivors re-
tain this repugnance to the very end. For
them it is a law which never falls into disuse,
however greatly reduced the population may
be. No corpse can be allowed to remain in
the babies' dormitory.

My cage becomes emptier day by day, not-
withstanding the mild temperature of the
room, notwithstanding the saucer of honey
at which the able-bodied come to sip. At
Christmas I have only a dozen females left.
266

The Common Wasp

On the 6th of January, with snow out of
doors, the last of them perishes.

Whence arises this mortaHty, which mows
down the whole of my Wasps? My atten-
tions have preserved them from the calami-
ties which at first sight might appear to cause
their death under the usual conditions. Fed
upon honey and grapes, they have not suf-
fered from famine : warmed by the heat of
my fire, they have not suffered from cold;
cheered almost daily by the sun's rays and
living in their own nest, they have not suf-
fered from home-sickness. Then what have
they died of?

I can understand the disappearance of the
males. These are henceforth useless; the
pairing has taken place and the eggs are
fertile. I can less easily explain the death
of the neuters, who, on the return of spring,
would be of such great assistance when new
colonies are founded. What I do not un-
derstand at all is the death of the females.
I had nearly a hundred; and not one has sur-
vived the first few days of the new year.
Having left their nymphal cells in October
and November, they still possessed the vigor-
ous attributes of youth ; they represented the
future; yet this sacred quality of prospective
267

The Mason-Wasps

motherhood has not saved them. Even as
the feeble males retired from business, even
as the workers exhausted by labour, they too
have succumbed.

We must not blame their internment un-
der wire for their death. The same thing
happens in the open country. The various
nests inspected at the end of December all
reveal a similar mortality. The females die
almost as rapidly as the rest of the popula-
tion.

This was to be expected. The number of
females who are daughters of the same nest
is unknown to me. However, the profusion
of their dead bodies in the charnel-pit of the
colony tells me that they must be counted by
the hundred, perhaps by the thousand. One
female is enough to found a city of thirty
thousand inhabitants. If all were to pro-
sper, what a scourge! The Wasps would
tyrannize over the country-side.

The order of things demands that the vast
majority shall die, killed not by an accidental
epidemic and the inclemency of the season,
but by an inevitable destiny, which performs
its work of destruction with the same en-
ergy as that which it displays in the task
of procreation. One question thereupon
arises: since a single female, preserved in
268

The Common Wasp

one way or another, Is enough to maintain
the species, why does a VVasps'-nest contain
so many aspirant mothers? Why a muhi-
tude in place of one? Why so many vic-
tims? A perturbing problem, in which our
intelligence fails to see its way.

269

CHAPTER XI

THE COMMON WASP (continued)

/^F the calamities that befall the Wasp
^^ when winter arrives, the worst remains
to be told. Foreseeing the approach of fail-
ing power, the neuters, hitherto the tenderest
of nurses, become savage exterminators:

*' Let us leave no orphans," they say to
themselves; " no one would tend them after
we are gone. Let us kill everything, belated
eggs and larvae ahke. A violent end is
preferable to slow death by starvation."

A massacre of the innocents ensues.
Seized by the scruff of the neck and brutally
extirpated from their cells, the larvae are
dragged out of the nest and thrown into the
vat at the bottom of the crypt; the eggs, those
delicate morsels, are ripped open and de-
voured. Will it be possible for me to wit-
ness this tragic end of the city, not in the
fulness of its horror — that ambition is too
far beyond my resources — but at least in
some of its scenes? Let us try.

In October, I place under cover a few
fragments of a nest which have been saved
270

The Common Wasp

from asphyxiation. By moderating the dose
of petrol I can easily obtain a number of
Wasps afflicted merely with a passing torpor,
which enables me to collect them without be-
ing stung and which disappears as the suffer-
ers are exposed to the air. Note also that,
even with a fairly strong dose of petrol, cap-
able of killing all the adults, the larvae do not
succumb. Mere digesting bellies, they hold
out when the more delicately-organized
adults perish. Safe from misadventure, I
have been able in this way to establish in a
cage a portion of a nest rich in eggs and
larvae, with some hundred neuters as at-
tendants.

To facilitate my inspection, I separate the
combs and place them side by side, with the
openings of the cells turned upwards. This
arrangement, which reverses the normal,
does not appear to annoy my captives, who,
soon recovering from their disturbance, set
to work as if nothing unusual had occurred.
In case they should wish to build, I give them
a slip of soft wood to draw upon. Lastly,
I feed them with honey, poured into a pool
on a strip of paper and renewed daily. The
underground cavern is represented by a large
earthen pan surmounted by a wire-gauze
cover. A cardboard dome, placed over the
271

The Mason-Wasps

cover or removed at will, provides alter-
nately the obscurity demanded by the Wasps'
labours and the light needed for my observa-
tions.

The work is continued from one day to an-
other. The Wasps attend at the same time
to the larvae and to the house. The builders
begin to erect a wall round the most thickly-
colonized combs. Do they intend to repair
the disaster and build a new envelope, which
will replace the vanished enclosing wall?
The progress of the operation seems to tell
us no. They are simply continuing the work
which my terrible flask and my spade have
interrupted. Over an area embracing
hardly a third of the comb, they erect an
arched roof of paper scales which would
have been joined to the envelope of the nest
had it been intact. They are not beginning
again; they are continuing.

In any case, the sort of tent thus obtained
shelters but a small part of the disk of cells.
This is not for lack of materials. To begin
with, there is the slip of wood, providing,
In my opinion, an excellent supply of fibrous
scraps. But the Wasps do not touch it.
Perhaps I have chosen the wrong sort of
piece, being but ill-versed in the secrets of
Vespian paper-making.
272

The Common Wasp

To these raw materials, which are
troublesome to work, they prefer the old
cells, now fallen into disuse. In these the
felted fibres are ready prepared and have
only to be reduced to pulp again. With a
slight expenditure of saliva and a little grind-
ing in the mandibles, it yields a product of
the highest quality. The uninhabited cells,
therefore, are demolished by degrees, nibbled
and razed to their foundations. Out of the
ruins a sort of canopy is built. New cells
would be constructed in the same wayif they
were needed. This confirms what the upper
stories with demolished cells made us fore-
see: the Wasps build new cells with old.

The feeding of the grubs deserves exami-
nation even more than this roofing-work.
One would never weary of the spectacle of
these rough fighters converted into tender
nurses. The barracks are turned into a
creche. What care, what vigilance in the
rearing of the grubs 1 Let us watch one of
the busy Wasps. Her crop swollen with
honey, she halts in front of a cell; almost
pensively she bends her head into the orifice;
she questions the recluse with the tip of her
antenna. The larva wakes and gapes at her,
like the fledgeling when the mother-bird re-
turns to the nest with food.
273

The Mason-Wasps

For a moment, the awakened larva swings
its head to and fro: it is blind and is trying
to feel the pap brought to it. The two
mouths meet; a drop of syrup passes from
the nurse's mouth to the nurseling's. That
is enough for the moment. Now for the
next. The Wasp moves on, to continue her
duties elsewhere.

The larva, on its side, licks the base of its
neck for a few seconds. There is here, at
the moment when the grub is being served
with food, a sort of projecting bib, a tempo-
rary dewlap which forms a porringer and
receives what trickles from the lips. After
swallowing the bulk of the ration, the larva
finishes its meal by gathering up the crumbs
which have fallen on its bib. Then the
swelling disappears; and the grub, withdraw-
ing a little way into its cell, resumes its sweet
slumbers.

The better to watch this curious fashion
of eating, I happen by good luck to have a
few powerful Hornet-larvae. I slip them
singly into paper sheaths, which will repre-
sent their natal cells. Thus swaddled, my
fat babies lend themselves excellently to ob-
servation when I myself distribute their
rations.

In my young days, we had a trick of tap-
274

The Common Wasp

ping with our finger the incipient tail of the
Sparrow whom we were rearing. The pupil
at once yawned, ready to receive his food.
I like to imagine that this system of bird-
training is still in vogue. But there is no
need of these stimulating preliminaries to
arouse the appetite of the Hornet's offspring.
They yawn of their own accord at the least
touch that I give to their cell. The lucky
creatures have ever-ready stomachs.

Taking a piece of straw with a drop of
honey hanging from it, I place the delicious
ration between the grub's mandibles. There
is too much for a single mouthful. But the
breast swells into a dewlap which catches the
surplus. Here the grub will take a few more
sips, at its leisure, after swallowing the
spoonful which it received direct. When
there is no more left, when the pectoral plat-
ter is licked clean, the swelling disappears
and the larva resumes its immobility.
Thanks to this short-lived swelling, suddenly
flung out and as suddenly withdrawn, the
diner has its table spread beneath its chin;
without assistance from others, it finishes its
meal alone.

When fed in my cage, the Wasps' grubs
have their heads up; and what escapes their
lips collects upon the dewlap. When fed
275

The Mason-Wasps

normally, in the Wasps'-nest, they have their
heads down. In this position is the pro-
tuberance on the breast of any service? I
cannot doubt it.

By slightly bending its head, the larva can
always deposit on its projecting bib a por-
tion of the copious mouthful, which adheres
to it by reason of its stickiness. Further,
there is nothing to tell us that the nurse does
not herself deposit the surplus of her help-
ing on this spot. Whether it be above or
below the mouth, right way up or upside
down, the pectoral porringer fulfils its office
because of the sticky nature of the food. It
is a temporary saucer which shortens the
work of serving and enables the grub to feed
in a more or less leisurely fashion and with-
out too much gluttony.

In the cage my Wasps are fed with honey,
which they disgorge for the larvae, once their
crops are full. Both nurses and nurselings
seem to thrive on this diet. Nevertheless,
I know that the usual food is game. I have
described elsewhere the hunting of the
Eristalis by the Common Wasp and of the
Hive-bee by the Hornet.^ The moment she
is caught, the big Fly in particular is dis-

1 Cf. The Hunting Pf^asps: chap. vii. — Translator's
Note.

276

The Common Wasp

membered; the head, wings, legs and belly,
those meagre portions, are cut off with snips
of the shears. There remains the breast,
which is rich in muscular tissues. This is the
booty which, minced small upon the spot and
reduced to a pill, is carried to the nest as a
feast for the larvae.

To honey, therefore, let us add game. I
slip a few Ei;istales under the wire dome.
At first the newcomers are not molested.
The turbulent Flies, fluttering, buzzing, but-
ting their heads against the wire-gauze,
create no sensation in the cage. The in-
mates take no notice of them. If one of
them pass too near to a Wasp, the Wasp
just raises her head, as though in threat.
That is quite enough; the Fly decamps.

Matters become more serious around the
strip of paper covered with honey. The re-
fectory is assiduously frequented by the
Wasps. If the Eristalis, watching jealously
from afar, venture to approach, one of the
banqueters separates from the group, rushes
headlong at the daring one, catches her by
the leg and sends her to the right-about.
The encounter is not really grave except when
the Fly commits the imprudence of alighting
on a comb. Then the Wasps fling them-
selves upon the hapless intruder, roll her over

The Mason-Wasps

and over, cuff her and drub her and drag her
outside crippled or, as often as not, dead.
The body is disdainfully rejected.

I renew my attempts in vain; I cannot re-
produce the scenes which I used to witness
on the aster-blossoms: the capture of the
Eristalis and her reduction to mincemeat for
the larvsE. Perhaps this strong animal fare
is distributed only on certain occasions which
are not realized in my cage; or perhaps —
and I more incline to favour this idea —
honey is judged to be better than meat. My
prisoners have plenty of it, served up fresh
daily. The nurselings thrive on this diet;
and the salmis of Flies is rejected in conse-
quence.

But in the open country, in the late au-
tumn, fruit is scarce; and, in the absence of
sweet pulp, we fall back upon game.
Minced Eristalis may well be only a sec-
ondary .resource of the Wasps. Their re-
fusal of my offerings seems to prove it.

We will now consider the Polistes. Her
absolutely Wasp-like shape and costume take
nobody in for a moment. She is at once re-
cognized and is mobbed as the Eristalis was,
if she dare approach the honey whereat the
Wasps are sipping. On neither side, how-
ever, is there any attempt at stinging: these
278

The Common Wasp

table-quarrels are not worth the drawing of a
dagger. Realizing that she is the weaker
and that she is not at home, the Polistes re-
tires. She will come back again and so per-
sistently that the diners end by allowing her to
take her seat beside them, a concession very
rarely made to the Eristalis. This toleration
does not last long: if the Polistes but venture
on the combs, this alone arouses a terrible
anger and brings about the death of the in-
truder. No, it is not a good thing to enter
the Wasps'-nest, even when the stranger
wears the same uniform, pursues the same in-
dustry and is almost a fellow-member of the
corporation.

Let us now try the Bumble-bee. Here is
a male, quite a small one, clad in russet.
The poor little beggar is threatened and even
hustled, but no more, each time that he passes
near a Wasp. Now, however, the scatter-
brain comes tumbling from the top of the
trelliswork and drops on a comb, in the midst
of the busy nurses. I am all eyes as I follow
the tragedy. One of them seizes the Bum-
ble-bee by the neck and stabs him in the
breast. A few convulsions of the legs fol-
low; and the Bumble-bee is dead. Two
other Wasps come to the murderess' assis-
tance and help her drag the deceased out-
279

The Mason-Wasps

side. Once more, I remark, it is not a good
thing to enter the Wasps' nest, even by acci-
dent and without any bad intention.

Here are a few more examples of the
savage welcome given to strangers. I do
not select my victims; I use them as they
happen to come. A rose-tree outside my
door supplies me with Hylotoma-larvs,*
larvae shaped like caterpillars. I place one
in the midst of the Wasps, who are busy with
their cells. Great surprise on the part of
the workers confronted by this sort of green
dragon, spotted with black! They come
near; they withdraw; they again come near.
One snaps at it boldly, inflicting a bleeding
wound. Others follow her example, bite
and endeavour to haul away the wounded
creature. The dragon resists, holding now
by its fore-legs and now by its hind-legs.
The burden is not too heavy, but the insect
struggles indefatigably, anchored by its
hooks. However, after numerous attempts,
the grub, enfeebled by its wounds, is torn
from the comb and dragged, all bleeding, to
the refuse-pit. It has taken a couple of
hours to dislodge it.

With the Hylotoma-larva the Wasps did

1 Hylotoma rosa, the Saw-fly of the Rose. Cf. Chapter
XII. of the present volume. — Translator's Note.
280

The Common Wasp

not use the sting, which would have so
promptly put an end to all resistance. Per-
haps they deemed the wretched grub un-
worthy of ceremonial death. The expedi-
tious method of the poisoned dagger appears
to be reserved for great occasions. Thus
perished the Bumble-bee and the Polistes;
thus will perish a larva of the Scalary
Saperda/ an imposing grub extracted that
moment from under the bark of a dead
cherry-tree.

I fling it on one of the combs. The
Wasps are greatly excited by the fall of the
monster, which goes into vigorous con-
tortions. Five or six at a time assail it, first
quickly biting into it and then pricking it
with their stings. In a couple of minutes the
grub, stabbed through and through, no
longer stirs. As for carrying the huge dead
body out of the nest, that is another matter;
it is too heavy, much too heavy. What will
the Wasps do? Unable to shift the grub,
they eat it where it lies, or rather they drain
it dry, drinking its blood. An hour later,
flaccid now and greatly diminished in weight,
the cumbrous corpse is dragged outside the
walls.

1 A Beetle whose larva lives' in the shoots of cherry-
and walnut-trees, as well as in those of alder and elm.
Cf. Chapter XII. of the present volume. — Translator's
Note.

281

The Mason-Wasps

The rest of my notes would only repeat
the same results. If he keep a certain di-
stance, the stranger is tolerated, no matter
what his race, his costume or his habits. If
he pass near a Wasp, a threat warns him and
puts him to flight. If he go to the pool of
honey, when the refectory is already occupied
by the Wasps, it seldom happens that the
daring intruder Is not molested and driven
from the banquet. So far, blows of no
great gravity suffice. But, if he have the
misfortune to enter the actual nest, he comes
to a bad end, pierced by the Wasps' stings
or at least disembowelled by the fangs of
their mandibles. His corpse goes to join the
other refuse in the basement.

Protected with this fierce vigilance against
the invasion of all intruders and deliciously
spoon-fed on honey, on that excellent honey
which causes Fly-meat to be forgotten, the
larvae prosper greatly in my breeding-cage,
though of course not all. In the Wasps'-
nest, as everywhere, there are weaklings who
are cut down before their time.

I see these puny sufferers refuse their food
and slowly pine away. The nurses perceive
it even more clearly. They bend their heads
over the sorely-tried grub, they sound it with
their antennae, they pronounce it incurable.
282

The Common Wasp

Then the creature at point of death, often of
a sickly brown, is torn ruthlessly from its cell
and dragged outside the nest. In the brutal
commonwealth of the Wasps, the invalid is
merely a clout, to be got rid of as quickly as
possible, for fear of contagion.

Woe to the sick among these rude profes-
sors of hygiene ! Any and every cripple is
expelled and thrown to the maggot waiting
to eat him in the catacombs below. Should
the experimenter intervene, matters take an
even more atrocious turn. I remove from
their cells a few larvae and nymphs in excel-
lent heahh and place them on the surface of
the combs. Once outside the cells, where
the nymphs were maturing under a silken
cupola, while the larvae were being spoon-
fed with the utmost teriderness, the delicate
creatures are mere hateful obstacles and use-
less encumbrances. Ferociously the work-
ers tug at them, disembowel them and even
eat a little of them. After this cannibal re-
past, the victims are carted outside the nest.
Incapable of reentering their cradles, even
with assistance, larvae and nymphs, stripped
bare, perish, slain by their nurses.

In the cage, however, the grubs generally
display a well-fed, glossy skin, a certificate of
good health. But see what happens on the.
283

The Mason-Wasps

advent of the first cold nights of November.
The building proceeds with diminished en-
thusiasm; the visits to the pool of honey are
less assiduous. Household duties are re-
laxed. Grubs gaping with hunger receive
tardy relief, or are even neglected. Pro-
found uneasiness seizes upon the nurses.
Their former devotion is succeeded by in-
difference, which soon turns to aversion.
What is the use of continuing attentions
which presently will become impossible? In
view of the imminent famine, our beloved
nurselings must die a tragic death.

The neuters, in fact, grab the late-born
larvae, these to-day, those to-morrow, sooner
or later the rest, and root them out of their
cells with the same violence which they would
employ against a stranger or a lifeless body;
they tug at them, savagely rend them; and
all this poor flesh is sent down to the pit.

Before much longer, the neuters them-
selves, thfe executioners, are languidly drag-
ging what remains of their lives. At length
they also succumb, killed by the weather.
November is not yet past; and nothing is
left alive in my cage. The final massacre of
the tardy larvae must take place underground
in more or less the same manner, but on a
larger scale.

284

The Common Wasp

Day after day the catacombs of the
Wasps'-nest receive the dead and dying
hurled down from above, sickly larvae and
such Wasps as have been injured by accident.
Rare in the prosperous season, these falls
into the .charnel-heap become increasingly
frequent as winter approaches. When the
late-born grubs arc being exterminated and
above all at the moment of the final cata-
strophe, when the adults, males, females and
neuters, are dying in their thousands, the
manna descends in a copious downfall daily.

The host of devourers has hastened up,
receiving only a little at first, but foreseeing
great junketings in the future. By the end
of November, the bottom of the crypt is a
swarming hostelry, dominated numerically
by the grubs of certain Flies, those under-
takers of the Wasps'-nests. I gather great
numbers of the larvae of the Volucella, who
deserves a chapter to herself, by reason of
her fame. I find here, poking its tapering
head into the bellies of the corpses, a naked,
white, pointed maggot, smaller than that of
the Luciliae.^ It works promiscuously with
a second, even smaller grub, brown and clad
in a prickly smock. I come upon a dwarf

iQr Greenbottles. Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. ix.
— Translator's Note.

285

The Mason-Wasps

which, looping and unlooping, wriggles about
like the Cheese-mites.

All of them are dissecting, dismembering
and disembowelling with so much zeal that,
when February arrives, they have not yet
had time to shrink into pupae. It is so pleas-
ant here, sheltered against the inclemencies
of the weather, in the snug basement, with
provisions in abundance I Why hurry?
These smug eaters expect to consume the
heap of victuals before hardening their skin
into a barrel. They linger so long over
their banquet that I forget to secure them
for my rearing-phials; and I can say no more
about their history.

In the charnel-houses of Moles and
Snakes in my aerial retting-vats,^ I used to
note, from time to time, the arrival of the
largest of our Staphylini,^ S. maxillosus, who,
in passing, would make a brief stay under
the putrid mass and then proceed to pursue
her business elsewhere. The Wasps' char-
nel-house similarly has short-winged Beetles
among its habitual visitors. I often come
upon Que dins fulgidas, Fab., there, the one
with the red wing-cases. But this time it is
not a temporary hostelry; it is a family es-

1 Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap, ix.— Translator's Note.

2 Rove-beetles. — Translator's Note.

286

The Common Wasp

tablishment, for the adult Staphyllnus Is ac-
companied by her larva. I also find Wood-
lice and Millipedes, of the genus Polydesma,
both inferior trenchermen, feeding probably '
on the humours oozing from the dead.

Let us also mention one of the outstanding
insect-eaters, the tiniest of our mammals, the
Shrew, who is smaller than the Common
Mouse. At the time of the final cata-
strophe, when sickness has calmed the ag-
gressive fury of the Wasps, the visitor with
the pointed muzzle steals into the nest. Ex-
ploited by a pair of Shrew-mice, the dying
crowd is soon reduced to a heap of remnants
which the maggots end by clearing out.

The ruins themselves will perish. A cat-
erpillar that develops later into a mean-look-
ing, whitish Moth; a Cryptophagus, a tiny
reddish Beetle; and a larva of one of the
Dermestes ^ (Attageniis pellio), clad in scaly
gold velvet, gnaw the floors of the stages and
crumble the whole dwelling. A few pinches
of dust, a few shreds of brown paper are
all that remains, by the return of spring, of
the Vespian city and its thirty thousand in-
habitants.

* Bacon-beetles. — Translator's Note.

287

CHAPTER XII

THE VOLUCELLA

T TNDERNEATH the brown-paper manor-
^-^ house, let us once more say, the ground
is channelled into a sort of drain for the
refuse of the nest. Here are shot the dead
or weakly larvae which a continual inspection
roots out from the cells to make room for
fresh occupants; here, at the time of the
autumn massacre, are flung the backward
grubs; here, lastly, lies a good part of the
crowd killed by the first touch of winter.
During the rack and ruin of November and
December, this sewer becomes crammed with
animal matter.

Such riches will not remain unemployed.
The world's great law which says that no-
thing edible shall be wasted provides for the
consumption of a mere ball of hair dis-
gorged by the Owl. How shall it be with
the vast stores of a ruined Wasps'-nestI If
they have not come yet, the consumers whose
task it is to salve this abundant wreckage for
nature's markets, they will not tarry in com-
ing and waiting for the manna that will soon
288

The Volucella

descend from above. That public granary,
lavishly stocked by death, will become a busy
factory of fresh life. Who are the guests
summoned to the banquet?

If the Wasps flew away, carrying the dead
or sickly grubs with them, and dropped them
on the ground round about their home, those
banqueters would be, first and foremost, the
insect-eating birds, the Warblers, all of
whom are lovers of small game. In this
connection, we will allow ourselves a brief
digression.

Everybody knows with what jealous in-
tolerance the Nightingales occupy each his
own cantonment. Neighbourly Intercourse
among them is tabooed. The males fre-
quently exchange defiant couplets at a di-
stance ; but, should the challenged party draw
near, the challenger makes him clear off.
Now, not far from my house. In a scanty
clump of holly-oaks which would barely give
a wood-cutter the wherewithal to make a
dozen faggots, I used, all through the spring,
to hear such full-throated warbling of Night-
ingales that the songs of these virtuosi, all
giving voice at once and with no attempt at
order, degenerated into a deafening hubbub.

Why did those passionate devotees of soli-
tude come and settle In such large numbers
289

The Mason-Wasps

at a spot where custom decrees that there is
just room for one household only? What
reasons have turned the recluse into a congre-
gation? I asked the owner of the spinney
about the matter.

*' It's hke that every year," he said.
*' The clump is overrun by Nightingales."

"And the reason?"

*' The reason is that there is a stand of
hives close by, behind that wall."

I looked at the man in amazement, un-
able to understand what connection there
could be between a stand of hives and the
thronging Nightingales.

" Why, yes," he added, " there are a lot
of Nightingales because there are a lot of
Bees."

Another questioning look from my side.
I did not yet understand. The explanation
came:

*' The Bees," he said, " throw out their
dead griibs. The front of the stand is
strewn with them in the mornings; and the
Nightingales come and collect them for
themselves and their families. They are
very fond of them."

This time I had solved the puzzle. De-
licious food, abundant and fresh each day,
had brought the songsters together. Con-
290

The Volucella

trary to their habit, numbers of Nightingales
are living on friendly terms in a cluster of
bushes, in order to be near the hives and to
have a larger share in the morning di-
stribution of plump dainties.

In the same way, the Nightingale and his
gastronomical rivals would haunt the neigh-
bourhood of the Wasps'-nests, if the dead
grubs were cast out on the surface of the
soil; but these delicacies fall inside the bur-
row and no little bird would dare to enter
the murky cave, even if the entrance were not
too small to admit it. Other consumers are
needed here, small in size and great in dar-
ing; the Fly is called for and her maggot, the
king of the departed. What the Green-
bottles, Bluebottles and Flesh-flies ^ do in the
open air, at the expense of every kind of
corpse, other Flies, narrowing their province,
do underground at the Wasps' expense.

Let us turn our attention, in September, to
the wrapper of a Wasps'-nest. On the outer
surface and there alone, this wrapper is
strewn with a multitude of big, white, oval
dots, firmly fixed to the brown paper and
measuring roughly one-tenth of an inch long
by one-sixteenth of an inch wide. Flat

1 Cf. The Life of the Fly: chaps, ix., x. and xiv. to xvi.
— Translator's Note.

291

The Mason-Wasps

below, convex above and of a lustrous
white, these dots resemble very neat drops
from a tallow candle. Lastly, their backs
are streaked with faint transversal lines, an
elegant detail perceptible only with the lens.
These curious objects are scattered all over
the surface of the wrapper, sometimes at a
distance from one another, sometimes gath-
ered into more or less dense groups. They
are the eggs of the Volucella, or Bumble-bee
Fly (V. zonaria, Lin).

Also stuck to the brown paper of the outer
envelope and mixed up with the Volucella's
are a large number of other eggs, chalk-
white, spear-shaped and ridged lengthwise
with seven or eight thin ribs, after the man-
ner of the seeds of certain Umbelliferas.
The finishing touch to their delicate beauty
is the fine stippling all over the surface.
They are smaller by half than the others. I
have seen grubs come out of them which
might easily be the earliest stage of some
pointed maggots which I have already no-
ticed in the burrows. My attempts to rear
them failed; and I am not able to say to
which Fly these eggs belong. Enough for us
to note the nameless one in passing. There
are plenty of others, which we must make up
our minds to leave unlabelled, in view of the
292

The Volucella

jumbled crowd of feasters in the ruined
Wasps'-nest. We will concern ourselves
only with the most remarkable, in the front
rank of which stands the Volucella.

She is a gorgeous and powerful Fly; and
her costume, with its brown and yellow
bands, shows a vague resemblance to that of
the Wasps. Our fashionable theorists have
availed themselves of this brown and yellow
to cite the Volucella as a striking instance of
protective mimicry. Obliged, if not on her
own behalf, at least on that of her family,
to introduce herself as a parasite into the
Wasp's home, she resorts, they tell us, to
trickery and craftily dons her victim's livery.
Once inside the Wasps'-nest, she is taken for
one of the inhabitants and attends quietly to
her business.

The simplicity of the Wasp, duped by a
very clumsy imitation of her garb, and the
depravity of the Fly, concealing her identity
under a counterfeit presentment, exceed the
limits of my credulity. The Wasp is not so
silly nor the Volucella so clever as we are
assured. If the latter really meant to de-
ceive the Wasp by her appearance, we must
admit that her disguise is none too successful.
Yellow sashes round the abdomen do not
make a Wasp. It would need more than
293

The Mason-Wasps

that and, above all, a slender figure and a
nimble carriage; and the Volucella is thick-
set and corpulent and sedate in her move-
ments. Never will the Wasp take that un-
wieldly insect for one of her own kind. The
difference is too great.

Poor Volucella, mimesis has not taught
you enough ! You ought — this is the essen-
tial point — to have adopted a Wasp's shape
and you forgot to do so; you remained a fat
Fly, far too easily recognized. Neverthe-
less, you penetrate into the terrible cavern;
you are able to stay there for a long time,
without danger, as the eggs profusely strewn
on the wrapper of the Wasps'-nest show.
How do you set about it?

Let us, first of all, remember that the
Volucella does not enter the enclosure in
which the combs are stacked: she keeps to
the outer surface of the paper rampart and
there lays her eggs. Let us, on the other
hand, recall the Polistes placed in the com-
pany of the Wasps in my breeding-cage.
Here of a surety is one who need not have
recourse to mimicry to find acceptance. She
belongs to the guild, she is a Wasp herself.
Any of us that had not the trained eye of the
entomologist would confuse the two species.
Well, this stranger, so long as she does not

294

The Volucella

become too importunate, is quite readily
tolerated by the caged Wasps. None seeks
to pick a quarrel with her. She is even ad-
mitted to the table, the strip of paper
smeared with honey. But she is doomed if
she inadvertently sets foot upon the combs.
Her costume, her shape, her size, which tally
almost exactly with the costume, shape and
size of the Wasp, do not save her from her
fate. She is at once recognized as a
stranger and attacked and slaughtered with
the same vigour as the larvje of the
Hylotoma and the Saperda, neither of which
bears any outward resemblance to the
Wasps.

If identity of shape and costume do not
save the Polistes, how will the Volucella fare,
with her clumsy imitation? The Wasp's
eye, which is able to discern the dissimilar in
the like, will refuse to be caught. The mo-
ment she is recognized, the stranger is killed
on the spot. As to that there is not the
shadow of a doubt.

In the absence of Volucellae at the moment
of experimenting, I employ another Fly,
Milesia fulminans, who, thanks to her slim
figure and her handsome yellow bands,
presents a much more striking likeness to the
Wasp than does the fat V. zonaria. De-

295

The Mason-Wasps

spite this resemblance, if she rashly ven-
ture on the combs, she is stabbed and slain.
Her yellow sashes, her slender abdomen de-
ceive nobody. The stranger is recognized
behind the features of a double.

My experiments under wire-gauze, which
vary according to the captures which I hap-
pen to make, all lead me to this conclusion:
so long as there is mere propinquity, even
around the honey, the other prisoners are
tolerated fairly well; but, if they touch the
cells, they are assaulted and often killed,
without distinction of shape or costume.
The grubs' dormitory is the sanctum sanc-
torum which no outsider must enter under
pain of death.

With these caged captives I experiment by
daylight, whereas the free Wasps work in the
absolute darkness of their crypt. Where
light is absent, colour goes for nothing.
Once, therefore, that she has entered the
cavern, the Volucella derives no benefit from
her yellow bands, which are supposed to be
her safeguard. Whether garbed as she is or
otherwise, it is easy for her to effect her pur-
pose in the dark, on condition that she avoid
the tumultuous interior of the Wasps'-nest.
So long as she has the prudence not to
hustle the passers-by, she can dab her eggs,
296

The Volucella

without danger, on the paper wall. No one
will know of her presence. The dangerous
thing is to cross the threshold of the burrow
in broad daylight, before the eyes of those
who go in and out. At that moment alone,
protective mimicry would be convenient.
Now does the entrance of the Volucella into
the presence of a few Wasps entail such very
great risks? The Wasps'-nest in my en-
closure, the one which was afterwards to
perish under a bell-glass in the sun, gave me
the opportunity for prolonged observations,
but without any result upon the subject of my
immediate concern. The Volucella did not
appear. The period for her visits had
doubtless passed; for I found plenty of her
grubs when the nest was dug up.

Other Flies rewarded me for my assiduity.
I saw some — at a respectful distance, I
need hardly say — entering the burrow.
They were insignificant in size and of a dark-
grey colour, not unlike that of the House-fly.
They had not a patch of yellow about them
and certainly had no claim to protective mim-
icry. Nevertheless, they went in and out as
they pleased, calmly, as though they were at
home. So long as there was not too great
a number at the door, the Wasps left them
alone. When there was anything of a

297

The Mason-Wasps

crowd, the grey visitors waited near the
threshold for a less busy moment. No harm
came to them.

Inside the establishment, the same peace-
ful relations prevail. In this respect I have
the evidence of my excavations. In the un-
derground charnel-house, so rich in Fly-
grubs, I find no corpses of adult Flies. If
the strangers were slaughtered in passing
through the entrance-hall or lower down,
they would fall to the bottom of the burrow
promiscuously with the other rubbish. Now
in this charnel-pit, as I said, there are never
any dead Volucellae, never a Fly of any sort.
The incomers, therefore, are respected.
Having done their business, they go out un-
scathed.

This tolerance on the part of the Wasps
is surprising. And a suspicion comes to
one's mind: can it be that the Volucella and
the rest are not what the accepted theories
of natural history call them, namely, enemies,
grub-killers sacking the Wasps'-nest? We
will look into this by examining them when
they are hatched. Nothing is easier, in Sep-
tember and October, than to collect the
Volucella's eggs in such numbers as we
please. They abound on the outer surface
of the Wasps'-nest. Moreover, as with the
298

The Volucella

larvae of the Wasp, it is some time before
they are suffocated by the petrol; and the
great majority are sure to hatch. I take my
scissors, cut the most densely-populated bits
from the paper wall of the nest and fill a jar
with them. This is the warehouse from
which I shall daily, for the best part of the
next two months, draw my supply of infant
grubs.

The Volucella's egg remains where it is,
with its white colouring strongly marked
against the grey background of the support.
The shell wrinkles and collapses; and the
fore-end tears open. From it there issues
a pretty little white grub, thin in front,
widening slightly in the rear and bristling all
over with fleshy papillae. These papillae are
set, on the creature's sides, like the teeth of
a comb; at the rear, they lengthen and
spread into a fan; on the back, they are
shorter and arranged in four longitudinal
rows. The last segment but one carries two
short, bright-red breathing-tubes, standing
aslant and joined to each other. The fore-
part, near the pointed mouth, is of a darker,
brownish colour. This is the biting- and
motor-apparatus, seen through the skin and
consisting of two fangs. Taken all round,
the grub is a comely little thing, with its
299

The Mason-Wasps

bristling whiteness, which gives it the appear-
ance of a tiny snow-flake. But this elegance
does not last long: grown big and strong, the
Volucella's grub becomes soiled with sanies,
turns russet-brown and crawls about in the
guise of a hulking Porcupine.

What becomes of it when it leaves the
egg? This my warehousing-jar tells me,
partly. Unable to keep its balance on slop-
ing surfaces, it drops to the bottom of the
receptacle, where I find it daily, as and when
hatched, restlessly wandering. Things must
happen likewise at the Wasps'. Incapable
of standing on the slant of the paper wall, the
new-born grubs slide to the bottom of the
underground cavity, which contains, especi-
ally at the end of the summer, a plentiful
provender of deceased Wasps and dead
larvae removed from the cells and flung out-
side, all nice and gamy, as proper maggot' s-
food should be.

The Volucella's offspring, themselves mag-
gots, notwithstanding their snowy apparel,
find in this charnel-house victuals to their
liking, incessantly renewed. Their fall from
the high walls might well be not accidental
but rather a means of reaching, quickly and
without searching, the good things down at
the bottom of the cavern. Perhaps, also,
300

The Volucella

some of the white grubs, thanks to the holes
that make the wrapper resemble a spongy
cover, manage to slip inside the Wasps'-nest.
Still, most of the Volucella's larvae, at what-
ever stage of their development, are in the
basement of the burrow, among the carrion
remains. The others, those settled in the
Wasps' home itself, are comparatively few.

These returns are enough to show us that
the grubs of the Volucella do not deserve
the bad reputation that has been given them.
Satisfied with the spoils of the dead, they
do not touch the living; they do not ravage
the Wasps'-nest, they disinfect it.

Experiment confirms what we have learnt
in the actual nests. Over and over again, I
bring Wasp-grubs and Volucella-grubs to-
gether in small test-tubes, which are easy to
observe. The first are well and strong; I
have just taken them from their cells. The
others are in various stages, from that of the
snow-flake born the same day to that of the
sturdy Porcupine.

There is nothing tragic about the en-
counter. The Flies' grubs roam about the
test-tube without touching the live tit-bit.
The most that they do is to put their mouths
for a moment to the morsel; then they take it
away again, not caring for the dish.
301

The Mason- Wasps

They want something different : a wounded,
a dying creature; a corpse dissolving into
sanies. Indeed, if I prick the Wasp-grub
with a needle, the scornful ones immediately
come and sup at the bleeding wound. If I
give them a dead larva, brown with putre-
faction, the grubs rip it open and feast on its
humours. Better still : I can feed them quite
satisfactorily with Wasps that have turned
putrid under their horny rings; I see them
greedily suck the juices of decomposing
Cetonia-larvse; I can keep them thriving with
chopped-up butcher's meat, which they know
how to liquefy by the method of the com-
mon maggot. And these unprejudiced ones,
who accept whatever comes their way, pro-
vided that it be dead, refuse it when it is
alive. Like the true Flies and frank body-
snatchers that they are, they wait, before
touching a morsel, for death to do its work.

Inside the Wasps'-nest, robust larvae are
the rule and weaklings the rare exception,
because of the assiduous supervision which
eliminates anything that is like to die.
Here, nevertheless, Volucella-grubs are
found, on the combs, among the busy
Wasps. They are not, it is true, so numer-
ous as in the charnel-house below, but still
they are pretty frequent. Now what do they
302

The Volucella

do in this abode where there are no corpses?
Do they attack the healthy? Their continual
visits from cell to cell would at first make one
think so; but we shall soon be undeceived if
we observe their movements closely; and this
is possible with my caged colonies.

I see them fussily crawling on the surface
of the combs, swaying their necks from side
to side and taking stock of the cells. This
one does not suit, nor that one either; the
bristly creature passes on, still in quest of
something, thrusting its pointed fore-part
now here, now there. This time, the cell ap-
pears to fulfil the requisite conditions. A
larva, glowing with health, opens wide its
mouth, believing its nurse to be approaching.
It fills the hexagonal chamber with its bulg-
ing sides.

The gluttonous visitor bends and slips its
slender fore-part, a blade of equisite supple-
ness, between the wall and the inhabitant,
whose slack rotundity yields to the pressure
of this animated wedge. It plunges into the
cell, leaving no part of itself outside but its
wide hind-quarters, with the red dots of the
two breathing-tubes.

It remains in this posture for some time,
occupied with its work at the bottom of the
cell. Meanwhile, the Wasps present remain
303

The Mason-Wasps

impassive, do not interfere, a clear proof
that the grub visited is in no peril. The
stranger, in fact, retires with a soft, glid-
ing motion. The chubby babe, a sort of
india-rubber bag, resumes its original volume
without having suffered any harm, as its ap-
petite soon shows. A nurse offers it a
mouthful, which it accepts with every sign of
unimpaired vigour. As for the Volucella-
grub, it licks its lips for a few moments after
its own fashion, pushing its two fangs in and
out; then, without further loss of time, it
goes and repeats its probing elsewhere.

What it wants down there, at the bottom
of the cells, behind the grubs, cannot be de-
cided by direct observation; it must be
guessed at. Since the visited larva remains
intact, it is not prey that the Volucella's grub
is after. Besides, if murder formed part
of its plans, why dive to the bottom of the
cell, instead of attacking the defenceless re-
cluse straightway? It would be much easier
to suck the patient's juices through the actual
orifice of the cell. Instead of that, we see
a dip, always a dip and never any other
tactics.

Then what is there behind the Wasp-grub?
Let us try to word all this as decently as
we can. In spite of its exceeding cleanli-
304

The Volucella

ness, the grub is not exempt from the physio-
logical ills inseparable from the work of the
stomach. Like all that eats, it has intesti-
nal waste matter in regard to which its con-
finement compels it to behave with extreme
discretion. Like so many other close-cab-
ined larvae of Wasps and Bees, it waits until
the moment of the transformation to rid it-
self of its digestive refuse. Then, once and
for all, it casts out the unclean accumulation
whereof the pupa, that delicate, reborn or-
ganism, must not retain the least trace.
This is found later, in any empty cell, in the
form of a dark-purple plug. But, without
waiting for this final purge, this lump, there
are, from time to time, slight excretions of
fluid, clear as water. We have only to keep
a Wasp-grub in a little glass tube to recog-
nize these occasional discharges. Well, I
see nothing else to explain the action of the
Volucella's grubs when they dip into the cells
without wounding the larvae. They are
looking for this liquid, they provoke its emis-
sion. It represents to them a dainty which
they enjoy over and above the more sub-
stantial fare provided by the corpses.

The Volucella, that sanitary Inspector of
the Vesplan city, fulfils a double office: she
gives the Wasp's children a wipe down; and
30s

The Mason-Wasps

she rids the Wasps'-nest of its dead. For
this reason, she is peacefully received, as an
assistant, when she enters the burrow to lay
her eggs there; for this reason, her grub is
tolerated, nay more, respected, in the very
heart of the dwelling, where none might
stray with impunity. I remember the bru-
tal welcome accorded to the Saperda- and
Hylotoma-larvae when I place them upon a
comb. Forthwith grabbed, bruised and
riddled with stings, the poor wretches perish.
It is quite a different matter with the off-
spring of the Volucella. They come and go
as they please, poke about in the cells, elbow
the inhabitants and remain unmolested. Let
us give some instances of this clemency,
which is very strange in the irascible Wasp.
For a couple of hours, I fix my attention
on a Volucella-grub established in a cell, side
by side with the Wasp-grub, the mistress of
the house. The hind-quarters emerge, dis-
playing their papillae. Sometimes also the
pointed fore-part, the head, appears, bend-
ing from side to side with sudden, Snake-
like motions. The Wasps have just filled
their crops at the honey-puddle; they are di-
spensing the rations, are very busily at work;
and these things are taking place in broad

daylight, on my table, by the window.
306

The Volucella

As they pass from cell to cell, the nurses
repeatedly brush against and stride across
the Volucella-grub. There is no doubt that
they see it. The intruder does not budge,
or, if trodden on, retires inside, only to re-
appear the next moment. Some of the
Wasps stop, bend their heads over the open-
ing, seem to be making enquiries and then
go off, without troubling further about the
state of things. One of them does some-
thing even more remarkable : she tries to give
a mouthful to the lawful occupant of the
cell; but the larva, which is being squeezed
by its visitor, has no appetite and refuses.
Without the least sign of anxiety on behalf
of the nurseling which she has seen in awk-
ward company, the Wasp retires and goes to
distribute her ration elsewhere.

In vain I prolong my examination : there is
no fluster of any kind. The Volucella-grub
is treated as a friend, or at least as a visitor
that does not matter. There is no attempt
to dislodge it, to worry it, to put it to flight.
Nor does the grub seem to trouble greatly
about those who come and go. Its tran-
quillity tells us that it feels at home.

Here is some further evidence: the grub
has plunged, head downwards, into an empty
cell, which is too small to contain the whole
307

The Mason-Wasps

of it. Its hind-quarters stick out, very vis-
ibly. For long hours it remains motionless
in this position. At every moment Wasps
pass and repass close by. Three of them,
at one time together, at another separately,
come and nibble at the edges of the cell;
they break off particles which they reduce
to paste for a new piece of work.

The passers-by, intent upon their business,
may not perceive the intruder; but these three
certainly do. During their work of demoli-
tion, they touch the grub with their legs,
their antennae, their palpi; and yet none of
them minds it. The fat grub, so easily re-
cognized by its queer figure, is left alone; and
this in broad daylight, where everybody can
see it. What must it be when the profound
darkness of the burrows protects the visitor
with its mysteries!

I have been experimenting all along with
big Volucella-grubs, coloured with the dirty
red that comes with age. What effect will
pure white produce? I sprinkle on the
surface of the combs some larvae that have
lately left the egg. The tiny, snow-white
grubs make for the nearest cells, go down
into them, come out again and hunt about
elsewhere. The Wasps peaceably let them
go their way, as heedless of the little white

The Volucella

invaders as of the big red ones. Sometimes,
when it enters an occupied cell, the little
creature is seized by the owner, the Wasp-
grub, which nabs it and turns it over and
over in its mandibles. Is this a defensive
bite? No, the Wasp-grub has merely blun-
dered, taking its visitor for a proffered
mouthful. There is no great harm done.
Thanks to its litheness, the little grub escapes
intact from the grip and continues its investi-
gations.

It might occur to us to attribute this toler-
ance to some lack of penetration in the
Wasps' vision. What follows will unde-
ceive us : I place separately, In empty cells, a
larva of the Scalary Saperda and a Volucella-
larva, both of them white and selected so as
not to fill the cell entirely. Their presence
is revealed only by the paleness of the hind-
part, which serves as a plug to the opening.
A superficial examination would leave the
nature of the recluse undecided. The
Wasps make no mistake : they extirpate the
Saperda-grub, kill it, throw it into the rub-
bish-pit; they leave the Volucella-grub in
peace.

The two strangers are quite well recog-
nized in the secrecy of the cells: one is the
intruder that must be turned out; the other
309

The Mason-Wasps

is the regular visitor that must be respected.
Sight helps, for things take place in the day-
light, under my cage; but the Wasps have
other means of information in the dimness
of the burrow. When I produce darkness
by covering the apparatus with a screen, the
murder of the trespassers is accomplished
just the same. For so say the police-regula-
tions of the Wasps'-nest: any stranger dis-
covered must be slain and thrown on the
midden.

To thwart this vigilance, the real enemies
need to be masters of the art of stealthy im-
mobility and cunning dissimulation. But
there is no dissimulation about the Volucella-
grub. It comes and goes, openly, whereso-
ever it will; it looks round amongst the
Wasps for cells to suit it. What has it
to make itself thus respected? Strength?
Certainly not. It is a harmless creature,
which the Wasp could rip open with a blow of
her shears, while a touch of the sting would
mean lightning death. It is a familiar guest,
to whom no denizen of a Wasp'-nest bears
ill-will. Why? Because it renders good
service : so far from working mischief, it does
the scavenging. Were it an enemy or merely
an intruder, it would be exterminated; as a
deserving assistant it is respected.
310

The Volucella

Then what need is there for the Volucella
to disguise herself as a Wasp? Any Fly,
whether grey or motley, is admitted to the
burrow directly she makes herself useful to
the community. The mimicry of the Volu-
cella, which was said to be one of the most
conclusive cases, is, after all, a mere child-
ish notion. Patient observation, continually
face to face with facts, will have none of it
and leaves it to the arm-chair naturalists,
who are too prone to look at the animal
world through the illusive mists of theory.

INDEX

Agenia (see also the vari-
eties below), 84-90, 222-
223, 229

Agenia hyalipennis, 84-85

Agenia punctum, 84-85, 89

Alpine Odynerus, 178-181

Ammonite, 239

Ammophilia {see Hairy
Ammophila)

Ant, 246

Anthidium {see also A.
beUicosum, Cotton-bee,
Resin-bee), 150, 219-220,
229

Anthidium beUicosum, 178-
181

Anthophora {see also the
varieties below), 89, 183,
186-187

Anthophora parietina {see
Anthophora of the
Walls)

Anthophora personata {see
Masked Anthophora)

Anthophora pilipes {see
Hairy-footed Antho-

phora)

Anthophora of the Walls,
168

Attagenus pellis, 287

Attus, 90

Audouin, Jean Victor, 30,
44

Audubon, John James, 252,

255
Augustus, the Emperor,
170

Bacon-beetle {see Der-

mestes)
Bear, 134
Bee {see also Bumble-bee,

Cotton-bee, Hive-bee,

Mason-bee), 66-67, 69,

113, 150, 170, 186, 209,

219
Bee-eating Wasp {see

Philanthus)
Beetle {see also Sacred

Beetle), 44, 176
Bembex, 18, 43, 91-92, 95,

99-100, 102
Black-bellied Tarantula

{see Narbonne Lycosa)
Blanchard, Emile, 30
Bluebottle, 291
Bombyx mori {see Mul-
berry Bombyx)
Bower-bird, 11-12
Bug, 74
Bultmulus radiatus, 178,

180
Bumble-bee, 279, 281
Bumble-bee Fly {see Volu-

cella)
Butterfly, 14, 44, 117, 194-

195

313

Index

Calicurgus {see Porapilus)
Capricorn, 89
Centipede, 54 n
Century Co., v
Ceratite, 239
Cerceris, 103
Cetonia, 302

Chalicodoma {see Mason-
bee)
Chalicodoma parietina {see

Mason-bee of the Walls)
Chalicodoma rufescens

{see Mason-bee of the

Shrubs)
Chalicodoma rufitarsis (see

Mason-bee of the Sheds)
Cheese-mite, 280
Chimney-swallow, 135,

141-142, 144-149
Chrysomela populi, 185,

192-200, 206-218
Cicada, 60, 89
Clubionus, 90
Coccinella {see Ladybird)
Common Ladybird {see

Ladybird)
Common Mouse {see

Mouse)
Common Snail {see Helix

aspersa)
Common Wasp, 191, 240-

3"
Condillac, Etienne Bonnot

de. Abbe de Mureaux,

112
Cotton-bee, 73, 12, 186
Crabro-wasp, 91-92, 103
Cricket {see also Italian

Cricket), 159-160
Cross Spider, 90-91, 94
Cryptophagus, 287

314

Dart Moth {see Grey

Worm)
Darwin, Charles Robert,

132
David, King, 135, 138
Dermestes, 287
Diadem Epeira {see Cross

Spider)
Dipper {see Water-ouzel)
Dog, 33-3S» 48, 177, 243
Domestic Swallow {see

Chimney Swallow)
Dryden, John, i36-i37«n
Dufour, Jean Marie Leon,

30-32, 35-36, 42-45
Dung-beetle {see Sacred

Beetle)

Earth-worm, 89, 246

Edible Snail, 179-180

Eel, 119

Epeira {see also the vari-
eties below), 90-91, 160

Epeira adianta, 90

Epeira angulata, 90

Epeira diadema {see Cross
Spider)

Epeira pallida, 90

Epeira scalaris, 90

Ephippiger, 211

Eristalis, 276-279

Eumenes {see also the va-
rieties below), 1-29, 56,
57, 201, 203, 224-226,
229, 233

Eumenes Amadei, i, 4-27,
47. 224-225

Eumenes bipunctus, m

Eumenes dubitis, in

Index

Eumenes pomiformis, i, 4,

13-16, 18-19, 21, 24-27
Eumenes unguiculata, 225

Fabre, Mile. Claire, the

author's daughter, 184-

185, 205-209, 211
Fabre, Paul, the author's

son, 240-241, 243-244
Field-mouse, 152
Flesh-fly, 291
Fly, 44. 99-100, 209, 253,

297-298

Garden Spider (see

Epeira)
Geometrid Moth {see

Looper)
Gnat, 84
Great Peacock Moth, 117-

128, 155
Greenbottle, 285-286, 291
Grey Worm, 2, 21, 43, 54,

160, 211

Hairy Ammophila, 2n, 14,
17-18, 21-22, 43, 54, 103,
160, 204, 211

Hairy-footed Anthophora,
168

Helix aspersa, 178

Helix nemoralis, 178

Helix strigata, 11

Hen, 184

Hirundo rustica {see Chim-
ney-swallow)

Hirundo urbica {see Win-
dow-swallow)

Hive-bee, 235-237, 276,
290-291

Hoopoe, 34-35, i77

Hornet, 248, 274, 276

House-fly, 297

House-martin {see Win-
dow-swallow)

House-spider, 92-93

House-swallow {see Win-
dow-swallow)

Humming-bird, 219

Hylotoma rosae, 280-281,
306

Italian Cricket, 243
lulus, 54

Ladybird, 185

Lalande, Joseph Jerome Le

Frangais de, 92
Languedocian Sphex, 211
Leaf-cutter {see Mega-
chile)
Lepeletier de Saint-Far-

geau, Amedee Comte, 30
Lepeletier de Saint-Far-

geau, Felix, 30«
Lepeletier de Saint-Far-

geau, Louis Michel, 30W
Lina populi {see Chryso-

mela p.)
Looper, 15

Lucilia {see Greenbottle)
Lycosa {see Narbonne Ly-

cosa)

Mademoiselle Mori, author
of, 2«

315

Index

Magpie, 12

Masked Anthophora, 168

Mason-bee {see also the

varieties below), 5-6, 69,

78-79, 83, 87, 113, 115-

"7. 155, 159. 225, 246
Mason-bee of the Pebbles

(see Mason-bee of the

Walls)
Mason-bee of the Sheds,

111-113, 163-166
Mason-bee of the Shrubs,

75. 167
Mason-bee of the Walls,

6, 9, 165, 167, 220-222,

229, 233
Measuring - worm {see

Looper)
Medium Wasp, 227-239,

247
Megachile, 161-162, 182,

186, 246
Miall, Bernard, vi, 2w
Milesia futminans, 295-296
Millipede, 287
Mole, 246, 259, 286
Moth {see also Great Pea-
cock Moth), 14, 44, ii7i

287
Mouse, 120, 287
Mulberry Bombyx, 118-119
Mule, 77-78
Myriapod, 54«

Narbonne Lycosa, 90, 94,

Nest-building Odynerus)

176-218
Nightingale, 289-291
Noctiia segetum {see Grey

Worm)

Odynerus {see also the va-
rieties below), 28-59,
150, 176

Odynerus alpestris {see Al-
pine Odynerus)

Odynerus nidulator {see
Nest-building Odynerus)

Odynerus Reaumurii, 35

Odynerus reniformis, 35-
59. 177-178, 201-205

Odynerus spinipes, 35

Osmia {see also three-
horned Osmia), 31-32,
69, 150, 168-169, 182,
186

Owl {see also Screech-
owl), 288

Palarus, io2

Parrot, I2

Pelopaeus, 31, 60-135, 137,

155. 158-160, 165, 222-

223, 225, 229, 233
Phllanthus, 103
Phytonomus variahilts, 44
Planorbis, 239
Plato, 239
Pliny, 34
Polistes, 191, 236-237, 278-

279, 281, 294-295
Polydesma, 287
Pompilus, 90, 94, 96

Quedius fulgidus, 286

316

Reaumur, Rene Antoine

Index

Ferchault de, 29-32, 35,

37-42, 44-45, 51-53. 184,

241-242, 259
Ringed Calicurgus {see

Pompilus)
Rodvvell, Frances, vi
Rove-beetle {see Staphyli-

nus)

Sacred Beetle, 227
Salamander, 65, 196
Saperda {see Scalary Sa-

perda)
Saw-fly of the Rose {see

Hylotoma rosae)
Scalary Saperda, 281, 306,

309
Scolia, 98, 103, 204
Screech-owl, 243
Segestria, 89
Shrew, 287
Silkworm {see Mulberry

Borabyx)
Snail {see also Buliraulus,

Edible Snail, Helix), n-

13, 168, 178, 237-239
Snake, 286
Solitary Wasp {see Ody-

nerus)
Sophocles, 170
Sparrow, 135-154, ^74, 275
Sphex {see also Languedo-

cian Sphex), 18, 98, 103,

204
Spider {see also the vari-
eties), 24, 81-82, 86, 89-

102, 106, 109-111, 113,

159-160, 222
Staphylinus maxillosus,

286-287
Stizus, 102

317

Swallow {see also Chim-
ney-swallow, VVindow-
swallow), 135-154

Tarantula {see Narbonne
Lycosa)

Tachytes, 102

Tegenaria domestica {see
House-spider)

Teixeira de Mattos, Alex-
ander, 2n, 4w, i7«, 3on,
89^, II7«, 227«

Theridion lugubre, 90

Three-horned Osmia, 167-
i68, 170-175, 188-192

Tiberius, the Emperor, 170

Toad, 196

Turkey, 252, 255

Turnip Moth {see Grey
Worm)

Unwin, Mr. T. Fisher, vi

Vespa crabro {see Hornet)

Vespa media {see Median
Wasp)

Vespa 'vulgaris {see Com-
mon Wasp)

Virgil, 136-137

Vitruvius, 3

Volucella zonaria, 285-286,
288-311

Wall-swallow {see Win-
dow-swallow)

Index

Warbler, 289 Weevil, 44

Wasp (sef also Common Window-swallow, 135, 141-

Wasp, Median Wasp), 143, 145-146, 147-149

65-67, 69, 95, 101-102, Wolf, 134

150, 170, 209, 219 Wood-louse, 287

Water-ouzel, 63

318

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