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THE SACRED BEETLE
AND OTHERS

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

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THE SACRED BEETLE
AND OTHERS

J. HENRI FABRE

Alexander Teixeira de Mattos

FELLOW OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON

WITH A PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR

NEW YORK

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY

1918

"^^^^^^^m

COPYBIGHT, 1918

By dodd, mead and company, Inc.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

In the building of the nest, the family
safeguard, we see the highest manifestation
of the faculties of instinct. That clever
architect, the bird, teaches us as much; and
the insect, with its still more diverse talents,
repeats the lesson, telling us that maternity
is the supreme inspirer of instinct. En-
trusted with the preservation of the species,
which is of more importance than the preser-
vation of individuals, maternity awakens in
the drowsiest intelligence marvellous gleams
of foresight; it is the thrice sacred hearth
where are kindled those mysterious psychic
fires which will suddenly burst into flame and
dazzle us with their semblance of infallible
reason. The more maternity asserts itself,
the higher does instinct ascend.

In this respect no creatures are more de-
serving of our attention than the Hy-
menoptera, upon whom the cares of ma-
ternity devolve in their fulness. All these
favourites of instinct prepare board and
lodging for their offspring. They become
master-craftsmen in a host of trades for the

Author's Preface

sake of a family which their faceted eyes will
never behold, but which is nevertheless no
stranger to the mother's powers of foresight.
One turns cotton-spinner and produces cot-
ton-wool bottles ; another sets up as a basket-
maker and weaves hampers out of bits of
leaves; a third becomes a mason and builds
rooms of cement and domes of road-metal;
a fourth opens pottery-works, where clay
is kneaded into shapely vases and rounded
pots; yet another goes in for mining and
digs mysterious underground chambers in
the warm, moist earth. A thousand trades
similar to ours and often even unknown
to our industrial system enter into the
preparation of the abode. Next comes the
provisions for the expected nurselings: piles
of honey, loaves of pollen, stores of game,
preserved by a cunning paralysing-process.
In such works as these, having the future of
the family for their sole object, the highest
manifestations of Instinct are displayed
under the stimulus of maternity.

So far as the rest of the insect race is con-
cerned, the mother's cares are generally most
summary. In the majority of cases, all that
is done is to lay the eggs in a favourable spot,
where the larva, at its own risk and peril,
can find bed and breakfast. With such

Author's Preface

rustic ideas upon the upbringing of the off-
spring, talents are superfluous. Lycurgus
banished the arts from his republic on the
ground that they were enervating. In like
manner the higher inspirations of instinct
have no home among insects reared in the
Spartan fashion. The mother scorns the
sweet task of the nurse; and the psychic
prerogatives, which are the best of all,
diminish and disappear, so true is it that,
with animals as with ourselves, the family is
a source of perfection.

While the Hymenopteron, so extremely
thoughtful of her progeny, fills us with
wonder, the others, which abandon theirs to
the accidents of good luck or bad, must seem
to us, by comparison, of little Interest.
These others form almost the whole of the
entomological race; at least, among the
fauna of our country-sides, there is, to my
knowledge, only one other example of Insects
preparing board and lodging for their
family, as do the gatherers of honey and the
buriers of well-filled game-bags.

And, strange to say, these Insects vying In
maternal solicitude with the flower-despoi-
ling tribe of Bees are none other than the
Dung-beetles, the dealers In ordure, the
scavengers of the cattle-fouled meadows.

Author's Preface

We must pass from the scented blossoms of
our flower-beds to the Mule-dung of our
high-roads to find a second Instance of de-
voted mothers and lofty instincts. Nature
abounds In these antitheses. What are our
ugliness or beauty, our cleanliness or dirt to
her? Out of filth, she creates the flower;
from a Httle manure, she extracts the thrice-
blessed grain of wheat.

Notwithstanding their disgusting occupa-
tion, the Dung-beetles are of a very respect-
able standing. Their size, which Is generally
imposing; their severe and immaculately
glossy attire; their portly bodies, thickset and
compact; the quaint ornamentation of brow
or thorax, all combined makes them cut an
excellent figure in the collector's boxes,
especially when to our home species, oftenest
of an ebon black, we add a few tropical
varieties a-glitter with gleams of gold and
flashes of burnished copper.

They are the sedulous attendants of our
herds, for which reason several of them are
faintly redolent of benzoic acid, the aromatic
of the Sheepfolds. Their pastoral habits
have impressed the nomenclators, too often,
alas, careless of euphony, who this time have
changed their tune and headed their descrip-
tions with such names as Meliboeus, TItyrus,
viii

Author's Preface

Amyntas, Corydon, Mopsus and Alexis.
We find here the whole series of bucolic ap-
pellations made famous by the poets of
antiquity. Virgil's eclogues have lent their
vocabulary for the Dung-beetles' glorifica-
tion. We should have to go back to the
Butterflies with their dainty graces to find
an equally poetic nomenclature. In their
case the epic names of the Iliad ring out,
borrowed from the camps of Greek and
Trojan, and perhaps too magnificently
bellicose for those peaceable winged flowers
whose habits in no wise recall the martial
deeds of an Ajax or an Achilles. Much
better-imagined is the bucolic title given to
the Dung:-beetles ; it tells us the insect's chief
characteristic, its predilection for pasture-
lands.

The dung-manipulators have as head of
their line the Sacred Beetle or Scarab, whose
strange behaviour had already attracted the
attention of the fellah in the valley of
the Nile, some thousand years before the
Christian era. As he watered his patch of
onions in the spring, the Egyptian peasant
would see from time to time a fat black In-
sect pass close by, hurriedly trundling a ball
of Camel-dung backwards. He would watch
the queer rolling thing in amazement, even

Author's Preface

as the Provencal peasant watches it to this
day.

No one fails to be surprised when he first
finds himself in the presence of the Scarab,
who, with his head down and his long hind-
legs in the air, pushes with might and main
his huge pill, the source of so many awkward
tumbles. Undoubtedly the simple fellah, on
beholding this spectacle, wondered what that
ball could be, what object the black creature
could have in rolling it along with such
vigour. The peasant of to-day asks himself
the same question.

In the days of the Rameses and Thothmes,
superstition had something to say in the
matter; men saw in the rolling sphere an
image of the world performing its daily
revolution; and the Scarab received divine
honours : in memory of his ancient glory, he
continues the Sacred Beetle of the modern
naturalists.

It is six or seven thousand years since the
curious pill-maker first got himself talked
about: are his habits thoroughly familiar to
us yet? Do we know the exact use for which
he intends his ball, do we know how he rears
his family? Not at all. The most authori-
tative works perpetuate the grossest errors
where he is concerned.

Author's Preface

Ancient Egypt used to say that the Scarab
rolls his ball from east to west, the direction
in which the world turns. He next buries
it underground for twenty-eight days, the
period of a lunary revolution. This four
weeks' incubation quickens the pill-maker's
progeny. On the twenty-ninth day, which
the insect knows to be that of the conjunction
of the sun and moon and of the birth of the
world, he goes back to his buried ball; he digs
it up, opens it and throws it into the Nile.
That completes the cycle. Immersion in the
sacred waters causes a Scarab to emerge
from the ball.

Let us not laugh overmuch at these
Pharaonic stories : they contain a modicum
of truth mingled with the fantastic theories of
astrology. Moreover, a good deal of the
laughter would recoil upon our own science,
for the fundametal error of regarding as the
Scarab's cradle the ball which we see rolling
across the fields still lingers in our text-books.
All the authors who write about the Sacred
Beetle repeat it; the tradition has come down
to us intact from the far-off days when the
Pyramids were built.

It is a good thing from time to time to
wield the hatchet in the overgrown thicket
of tradition; it is well to shake off the yoke

Author's Preface

of accepted ideas. It is possible that,
cleansed of its obscuring dross, truth may at
last shine forth resplendent, far greater and
more wonderful than the things which we
were taught. I have sometimes harboured
these rash doubts; and I have no reason to
regret it, notably in the case of the Scarab.
To-day I know the sacred pill-roller's story
thoroughly; and the reader shall see how
much more marvellous it is than the tales
handed down to us by the old Egyptians.

The early chapters of my investigations
into the nature of instinct ^ have already
proved, in the most categorical fashion, that
the round pellets rolled hither and thither
along the ground by the insect do not and in-
deed cannot contain germs. They are not
habitations for the egg and the grub; they
are provisions which the Sacred Beetle hur-
riedly removes from the madding crowd in
order to bury them and consume them at
leisure in a subterranean dining-room.

Nearly forty years have elapsed since I
used eagerly to collect the materials to sup-

1 Chapters I. and II. of the present volume, forming the
first two chapters of Vol. I. of the Souvenirs entomolo-
giques. The remaining chapters on the Sacred Beetle ap-
peared, in the original, in Vol. V. of that work, for which
volume the above was written as a preface. — Translator's
Note.

Authors Preface

port my iconoclastic assertions, on the Pla-
teau des Angles, near Avignon; and nothing
has happened to invalidate my statements;
far from it: everything has corroborated
them. The incontestable proof came at last
when I obtained the Scarab's nest, a genuine
nest this time, gathered in such quantities as
I wished and in some cases even shaped be-
fore my eyes.

I have described my former vain attempts
to find the larva's abode; I have described
the pitiful failure of my efforts at rearing
under cover; and perhaps the reader com-
miserated my woes when he saw me on the
outskirts of the town stealthily and in-
gloriously gathering in a paper bag the
donation dropped by a passing Mule for my
charges. Certainly, as things were, my task
was no easy one. My boarders, who were
great consumers, or more correctly speaking
great wasters, used to beguile the tedium of
captivity by Indulging In art for art's sake
In the glad sunshine. Pill followed on pill,
all beautifully rounded, to be abandoned un-
used after a few exercises In rolling. The
heap of provisions, which I had so painfully
acquired In the friendly shadow of the gloam-
ing, was squandered with disheartening
rapidity; and there came a time when the
xiii

Author's Preface

daily bread failed. Moreover, the stringy
manna failing from the Horse and the Mule
is hardly suited to the mother's work, as I
learnt afterwards. Something more homo-
geneous, more plastic is needed; and this only
the Sheep's somewhat laxer bowels are able
to supply.

In short, though my earlier studies taught
me all about the Scarab's public manners,
for several reasons they told me nothing of
his private habits. The nest-building pro-
blem remained as obscure as ever. Its solu-
tion demands a good deal more than the
straitened resources of a town and the
scientific equipment of a laboratory. It re-
quires prolonged residence in the country; it
requires the proximity of flocks and herds in
the bright sunshine. Given these conditions,
success is assured, provided that one have
zeal and perseverance; and these conditions
I find to perfection In my quiet village.

Provisions, my great difficulty in the old
days, are now to be had for the asking.
Close to my house. Mules pass along the
high-road, on their way to the fields and
back again; morning and evening, flocks of
Sheep go by, making for the pasture or the
fold ; not five yards from my door, my
neighbour's Goat is tethered: I can hear her

Author's Preface

bleating as she nibbles away at her ring of
grass. Moreover, should food be scarce in
my immediate vicinity, there are always
youthful purveyors who, lured by visions of
lollipops, are ready to scour the country to
collect victuals for my Beetles.

They arrive, not one but a dozen, bringing
their contributions in the queerest of re-
ceptacles. In this novel procession of gift-
bearers, any concave thing that chances to be
handy is employed: the crown of an old hat,
a broken tile, a bit of stove-pipe, the bottom
of a spinning-top, a fragment of a basket, an
old shoe hardened into a sort of boat, at a
pinch the collector's own cap.

" It's prime stuff this time," their shining
eyes seem to proclaim. " It's something
extra special."

The goods are duly approved and paid
for on the spot, as agreed. To close the
transaction in a fitting manner, I take the
victuallers to the cages and show them the
Beetle rolling his pill. They gaze in wonder
at the funny creature that looks as if it were
playing with its ball; they laugh at its
tumbles and scream with delight at its clumsy
struggles when It comes to grief and lies on
its back kicking. A charming sight,
especially when the lollipops bulging in the

Author's Preface

youngsters' cheeks are just beginning to melt
dehciously. Thus the zeal of my little
collaborators is kept alive. There is no fear
of my boarders starving: their larder will be
lavishly supplied.

Who are these boarders? Well, first and
foremost the Sacred Beetle, the chief subject
of my present investigations. Serignan's
long screen of hills might well mark his
extreme northern boundary. Here ends the
Mediterranean flora, whose last ligneous re-
presentatives are the arboraceous heather and
the arbutus-tree; and here, in all probability,
the mighty pill-maker, a passionate lover of
the sun, terminates his arctic explorations.
He abounds on the hot slopes facing the
south and in the narrow belt of plain
sheltered by that powerful reflector. Ac-
cording to all appearances, the elegant Gallic
Bolboceras and the stalwart Spanish Copris
likewise stop at this line; for both are as
sensitive to cold as he. To these curious
Dung-beetles, whose private habits are so
little known, let us add the Gymnopleuri, the
Minotaur, the Geotrupes, the Onthophagi.
They are all welcomed in my cages, for all,
I am convinced beforehand, have surprises in
store for us in the details of their under-
ground business.

Author's Preface

My cages have a capacity of about a cubic
yard. Except for the front, which is of wire
gauze, the whole is made of wood. This
keeps out any excessive rain, the effect of
which would be to turn the layer of earth
in my open-air appliances into mud. Over-
great moisture would be fatal to the priso-
ners, who cannot, in their straitened artificial
demesne, act as they do when at liberty
and prolong their digging indefinitely un-
til they come upon a medium suitable to
their operations. They want soil which is
porous and not too dry, though in no danger
of ever becoming muddy. The earth in the
cages therefore is of a sandy character and,
after being sifted, is slightly moistened and
flattened down just enough to prevent any
landsHps in the future galleries. Its depth
is barely ten or eleven inches, which is in-
sufficient in certain cases; but those of the
inmates who have a fancy for deep galleries,
like the Geotrupes for instances, are well aJDle
to make up horizontally for what Is denied
them perpendicularly.

The trellised front has a south aspect and
allows the sun's rays to penetrate right into
the dweUing. The opposite side, which
faces north, consists of two shutters one
above the other. They are movable and

xvii

Author's Preface

are kept in place by hooks or bolts. The
top one opens for food to be distributed and
for the cleaning of the cage; it is the kitchen-
door for everyday use. It is also the en-
trance-gate for any new captives whom I
succeed in bagging. The bottom shutter,
which keeps the layer of earth in position,
is opened only on great occasions, when we
want to surprise the insect in its home life
and to ascertain the condition of the progress
underground. Then the bolts are drawn;
the board, which is on hinges, falls; and
a vertical section of the soil is laid bare,
giving us an excellent opportunity of studying
the Dung-beetles' work. Our examination
is made with the point of a knife and has to
be conducted with the utmost care. In this
way we get with precision and without diffi-
culty industrial details which could not always
be obtained by laborious digging in the open
fields.

Nevertheless, out-door investigations are
indispensable and often yield far more
important results than anything derived from
home rearing; for, though some Dung-
beetles are indifferent to captivity and work
in the cage with their customary vigour,
others, who are of a more nervous tempera-
ment or perhaps more cautious, distrust my

Author's Preface

boarded palaces and are extremely reluctant
to surrender their secrets. It is only once
in a way that they fall victims to my
assiduous wooing. Besides, if my mena-
gerie is to be run properly, I must know some-
thing of what is happening outside, were it
only to find out the right time of year for
my various projects. It is absolutely essen-
tial therefore that our study of the insect
in captivity should be amply supplemented
by observations of its life and habits in the
wild state.

Here an assistant would be very useful
to me, some one with leisure, with a seeing
eye and a simple heart, whose curiosity would
be as unaffected as my own. This helper I
have : such an one indeed as I have never
had before or since. He is a young shep-
herd, a friend of the family. He has read
a little and has a keen desire for know-
ledge, so he is not frightened by the terms
Scarabaeus, Geotrupes, Copris or Ontho-
phagus when I name the insects which he
has dug up the day before and kept for me
in a box.

At early dawn in the dog-days, when my
Insects are busy with their nest-building, you
may see him in the meadows. When night
falls and the heat begins to lessen, he Is still

Author's Preface

there ; and all day long, till far Into the night,
he passes to and fro among the pill-rollers,
who are attracted from every quarter by the
reek of the victuals strewn by his Sheep.
Well-posted in the various points of my
entomological problems, he watches events
and keeps me informed. He awaits his op-
portunity; he inspects the grass. With his
knife he lays bare the subterranean cell
which is betrayed by its little mound of earth;
he scrapes, digs and finds; and it all con-
stitutes a glorious change from his vague
pastoral musings.

Ah, what splendid mornings we spend to-
gether, in the cool of the day, seeking the
nest of the Scarab or the Coprls ! Old Sul-
tan is there, seated on some knoll or other
and keeping an autocratic eye upon the
fleecy rabble. Nothing, not even the crust
which a friend holds out to him, distracts
his attention from his exalted functions.
Certainly he is not much to look at, with his
tangled black coat, soiled with the thousands
of seeds which have caught in it. He is not
a handsome Dog, but what a lot of sense
there is in his shaggy head, what a talent
for knowing exactly what is permitted and
what forbidden, for perceiving the absence
of some heedless one forgotten behind a dip

Author's Preface

in the ground! Upon my word, one would
think that he knew the number of Sheep con-
fided to his care, his Sheep, though never a
bone of them comes his way ! He has counted
them from the top of his knoll. One is
missing. Sultan rushes off. Here he comes,
bringing the straggler back to the flock.
Clever Dog! I admire your skill in arith-
metic, though I fail to understand how your
crude brain ever acquired it. Yes, old
fellow, we can rely on you; the two of us,
your master and I, can hunt the Dung-beetle
at our ease and disappear in the copsewood;
not one of your charges will go astray, not
one will nibble at the neighbouring vines.

It was in this way that I worked, at early
morn, before the sun grew too hot, in
partnership with the young shepherd and our
common friend Sultan, though at times I was
alone, myself sole pastor of the seventy bleat-
ing Sheep. And so the materials were ga-
thered for this history of the Sacred Beetle
and his rivals.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

This is the first of the four volumes con-
taining Fabre's essays on Beetles, the order
of insects to which, if we judge by his output,
he devoted the longest study. It will be
followed in due course by The Glow-worm
and Other Beetles, The Life of the Weevil
and More Beetles. These three, however,
will be issued, not in immediate succession,
but turn by turn with books upon other in-
sects; for the Souvenirs entomologiqueSy
from which all or nearly all this material is
taken, are still far from being exhausted.

Of the eighteen chapters that make up the
present volume, some have appeared, either
complete or in a more or less abbreviated
form, in various interesting illustrated mis-
cellanies published independently of the Col-
lected Edition, Part of the Author's Pre-
face and the chapters entitled The Sacred
^Beetle and The Sacred Beetle in Captivity
will be found in Insect Life, prepared for
Messrs. Macmillan & Co. by the author of
Mademoiselle Mori. Similarly, the next

Translator's Note

three chapters on the Sacred Beetle, the two
Jireating of the Spanish Copris, the chapter
on the Onthophagi and OniticeUi and the first
two chapters on the Geotrupes form part of
The Life and Love of the Insect, translated
by myself for Messrs. Adam and Charles
Black and published in America by the Mac-
millan Co. Lastly, The Sisyphus: the In-
stinct of Paternity occurs in Mr. Fisher Un-
win's Social Life in the Insect World, trans-
lated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published in
America by the Century Co. These chap-
ters are all included in the Collected Edition
by arrangement with the publishers named.
It but remains for me (I regret to say,
for the last time) to express my thanks to
Miss Frances Rodwell, my very capable
assistant, who has done so much to assist me
in preparing this and most of the previous
volumes.

Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.
CHELSEA, 10 September, 191 8.

CONTENTS

PAGE

author's preface . ,. . ^., . V
translator's note xxiii

CHAPTER

I the sacred beetle ... I

n THE SACRED BEETLE IN CAPTIV-
ITY 41

III THE SACRED BEETLE : THE BALL 60

IV THE^SACRED BEETLE : THE PEAR 80

V THE SACRED BEETLE: THE MOD-
ELLING 105

VI THE SACRED BEETLE: THE LARVA II 9

VII THE SACRED BEETLE: 'THE

NYMPH; THE RELEASE . . 138

VIII THE BROAD-NECKED SCARAB;

THE GYMNOPLEURI . . .162

IX THE SPANISH COPRIS : THE LAY-
ING OF THE EGGS . . . 184

X THE SPANISH COPRIS: THE HAB-
ITS OF THE MOTHER . . . 215

XI ONTHOPHAGI AND ONITICELLI . 248

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

XII THE GEOTRUPES: THE PUBLIC

HEALTH 272

Xni THE GEOTRUPES : NEST-BUILDING 292

XIV THE GEOTRUPES : THE LARVA . 317

XV THE SISYPHUS : THE INSTINCT OF

PATERNITY 336

XVI THE LUNARY COPRIS ; THE BISON

ONITIS 355

XVII THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE

CELL 377

XVIII THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE

LARVA; THE NYMPH . . . 402

INDEX . . ... . .421

CHAPTER I

THE SACRED BEETLE

TT happened like this. There were five or
■*• six of us : myself, the oldest, officially their
master but even more their friend and com-
rade; they, lads with warm hearts and joyous
imaginations, overflowing with that youthful
vitality which makes us so enthusiastic and so
eager for knowledge. We started off one
morning down a path fringed with dwarf
elder and hawthorn, whose clustering blos-
soms were already a paradise for the Rose-
chafer ecstatically drinking in their bitter
perfumes. We talked as we went. We
were going to see whether the Sacred Beetle
had yet made his appearance on the sandy
plateau of Les Angles, ^ whether he was roll-
ing that pellet of dung in which ancient Egypt
beheld an image of the world; we were going
to find out whether the stream at the foot of
the hill was not hiding under its mantle of
duckweed young Newts with gills like tiny

1 A village in the department of the Gard, facing
Avignon. — Author's Note.

The Sacred Beetle and Others

branches of coral; whether that pretty little
fish of our rivulets, the Stickleback, had
donned his wedding scarf of purple and blue;
whether the newly arrived Swallow was skim-
ming the meadows on pointed wing, chasing
the Craneflies, who scatter their eggs as they
dance through the air; if the Eyed Lizard
was sunning his blue-speckled body on the
threshold of a burrow dug in the sandstone;
if the Laughing Gull, travelling from the sea
in the wake of the legions of fish that ascend
the Rhone to milt in its waters, was hovering
in his hundreds over the river, ever and anon
uttering his cry so like a maniac's laughter;
if . . . but that will do. To be brief, let us
say that, like good simple folk who find plea-
sure In all living things, we were off to spend
a morning at the most wonderful of festivals,
life's springtime awakening.

Our expectations were fulfilled. The
Stickleback was dressed in his best: his scales
would have paled the lustre of silver; his
throat was flashing with the brightest ver-
milion. On the approach of the great black
Horse-leech, the spines on his back and sides
started up, as though worked by a spring. In
the face of this resolute attitude, the bandit
turns tall and slips ignomlniously down
among the water-weeds. The placid mollusc

The Sacred Beetle

tribe — Planorbes, LImnaei and other
Water-snails — were sucking in the air on the
surface of the water. The Hydrophilus and
her hideous larva, those pirates of the ponds,
darted amongst them, wringing a neck or two
as they passed. The stupid crowd did not
seem even to notice it. But let us leave the
plain and its waters and clamber up the bluff
to the plateau above us. Up there. Sheep
are grazing and Horses being exercised for
the approaching races, while all are distribu-
ting manna to the enraptured Dung-beetles.

Here are the scavengers at work, the
Beetles whose proud mission it is to purge the
soil of its filth. One would never weary of
admiring the variety of tools wherewith they
are supplied, whether for shifting, cutting up
and shaping the stercoral matter or for ex-
cavating deep burrows in which they will
seclude themselves with their booty. This
equipment resembles a technical museum
where every digging-implement is repre-
sented. It includes things that seem copied
from those appertaining to human industry
and others of so original a type that they
might well serve us as models for new in-
ventions.

The Spanish Coprls carries on his fore-
head a powerful pointed horn, curved back-

The Sacred Beetle and Others

wards, like the long blade of a mattock. In
addition to a similar horn, the Lunary Copris
has two strong spikes curved like a plough-
share, springing from the thorax, and also,
between the two, a jagged protuberance
which does duty as a wide rake. Buhas
biibalis and B. bison, both exclusively
Mediterranean species, have their forehead
armed with two stout diverging horns, be-
tween which juts a horizontal dagger, sup-
plied by the corselet. Minotaurus typhceus
carries on the front of his thorax three
ploughshares, which stick straight out,
parallel to one another, the side ones longer
than the middle one. The Bull Onthapha-
gus has as his tool two long curved pieces
that remind us of the horns of a Bull; the
Cow Onthaphagus, on the other hand, has a
two-pronged fork standing erect on his flat
head. Even the poorest have, either on
their head or on their corselet, hard knobs
that make implements which the patient in-
sect can turn to good use, notwithstanding
their bluntness. All are supplied with a
shovel, that is to say, they have a wide, flat
head with a sharp edge ; all use a rake, that
is to say, they collect materials with their
toothed fore-legs.

As some sort of compensation for their

4

The Sacred Beetle

unsavoury task, several of them give out a
powerful scent of musk, while their bellies
shine like polished metal. The Mimic
Geotrupes has gleams of copper and gold
beneath; the Stercoraelous Geotrupes has a
belly of amethystine violet. But generally
their colouring is black. The Dung-beetles
in gorgeous raiment, those veritable living
gems, belong to the tropics. Upper Egypt
can show us under its Camel-dung a Beetle
rivalling the emerald's brilliant green;
Guiana, Brazil and Senegambia boast of
Copres of a metallic red, rich as that of
copper and ruby-bright. The Dung-beetles
of our climes cannot flaunt such jewellery,
but they are no less remarkable for their
habits.

What excitement over a single patch of
Cow-dung! Never did adventurers hurry-
ing from the four corners of the earth dis-
play such eagerness in working a Californian
claim. Before the sun becomes too hot, they
are there in their hundreds, large and small,
of every sort, shape and size, hastening to
carve themselves a slice of the common cake.
There are some that labour in the open air
and scrape the surface; there are others that
dig themselves galleries in the thick of the
heap, in search of choice veins; some work
5

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the lower stratum and bury their spoil with-
out delay in the ground just below; others
again, the smallest, keep on one side and
crumble a morsel that has slipped their way
during the mighty excavations of their more
powerful fellows. Some, newcomers and
doubtles the hungriest, consume their meal on
the spot; but the greater number dream of
accumulating stocks that will allow them to
spend long days in affluence, down in some
safe retreat. A nice, fresh patch of dung
is not found just when you want it, in the
barren plains overgrown with thyme ; a wind-
fall of this sort is as manna from the sky;
only fortune's favourites receive so fair a
portion. Wherefore the riches of to-day
are prudently hoarded for the morrow.
The stercoraceous scent has carried the glad
tidings half a mile around; and all have
hastened up to get a store of provisions. A
few laggards are still arriving, on the wing
or on foot.

Who Is this that comes trotting towards
the heap, fearing lest he reach it too late?
His long legs move with awkward jerks, as
though driven by some mechanism within
his belly; his little red antennae unfurl their
fan, a sign of anxious greed. He is coming,
he has come, not without sending a few
6

The Sacred Beetle

banqueters sprawling. It is the Sacred
Beetle, clad all in black, the biggest and most
famous of our Dung-beetles. Behold him
at table, beside his fellow-guests, each of
whom is giving the last touches to his ball
with the flat of his broad fore-legs or else en-
riching it with yet one more layer before re-
tiring to enjoy the fruit of his labours in
peace. Let us follow the construction of the
famous ball in all its phases.

The clypeus, or shield, that Is, the edge of
the broad, flat head, Is notched with six an-
gular teeth arranged in a semicircle. This
constitutes the tool for digging and cutting
up, the rake that lifts and casts aside the un-
nutritious vegetable fibres, goes for some-
thing better, scrapes and collects it. A
choice Is thus made, for these connoisseurs
differentiate between one thing and another,
making a rough selection when the Beetle is
occupied with his own provender, but an ex-
tremely scrupulous one when it is a case of
constructing the maternal ball, which has a
central cavity In which the egg will hatch.
Then every scrap of fibre is conscientiously
rejected and only the stercoral quintessence is
gathered as the material for building the In-
ner layer of the cell. The young larva, on
issuing from the egg, thus finds in the very
7

The Sacred Beetle and Others

walls of its lodging a food of special delicaqr
which strengthens its digestion and enables
it afterwards to attack the coarse outer
layers.

Where his own needs are concerned, the
Beetle is less particular and contents himself
with a very general sorting. The notched
shield then does its scooping and digging, its
casting aside and scraping together more or
less at random. The fore-legs play a mighty
part in the work. They are flat, bow-
shaped, supplied with powerful nervures and
armed on the outside with five strong teeth.
If a vigorous effort be needed to remove
an obstacle or to force a way through the
thickest part of the heap, the Dung-beetle
makes use of his elbows, that Is to say, he
flings his toothed legs to right and left and
clears a semicircular space with an energetic
sweep. Room once made, a different kind
of work is found for these same limbs: they
collect armfuls of the stuff raked together by
the shield and push it under the insect's belly,
between the four hinder legs. These are
formed for the turner's trade. They are
long and slender, especially the last pair,
slightly bowed and finished with a very
sharp claw. They are at once recognized
as compasses, capable of embracing a globu-
8

The Sacred Beetle

lar body in their curved branches and of
verifying and correcting its shape. Their
function is, in fact, to fashion the ball.

Armful by armful, the material is heaped
up under the belly, between the four legs,
which, by a slight pressure, impart their own
curve to it and give it a preliminary outline.
Then, every now and again, the rough-hewn
pill is set spinning between the four branches
of the doube pair of spherical compasses; it
.turns under the Dung-beetle's belly until it is
rolled into a perfect ball. Should the sur-
face layer lack plasticity and threaten to peel
off, should some too-stringy part refuse to
yield to the action of the lathe, the fore-legs
touch up the faulty places; their broad
paddles pat the ball to give consistency to
the new layer and to work the recalcitrant
bits into the mass.

Under a hot sun, when time presses, one
stands amazed at the turner's feverish
activity. And so the work proceeds apace :
what a moment ago was a tiny pellet is now
a ball the size of a walnut; soon it will be the
size of an apple. I have seen some gluttons
manufacture a ball the size of a man's fist.
This indeed means food in the larder for
days to come !

The Beetle has his provisions. The
9

The Sacred Beetle and Others

next thing is to withdraw from the fray and
transport the victuals to a suitable place.
Here the Scarab's most striking character-
istics begin to show themselves. Straight-
way he begins his journey; he clasps his
sphere with his two long hind-legs, whose
terminal claws, planted in the mass, serve as
pivots; he obtains a purchase with the middle
pair of legs; and, with his toothed fore-arms,
pressing in turn upon the ground, to do duty
as levers, he proceeds with his load, he him-
self moving backwards, body bent, head
down and hind-quarters in the air. The
rear legs, the principal factor in the me-
chanism, are in continual movement back-
wards and forwards, shifting the claws
to change the axis of rotation, to keep the
load balanced and to push it along by
alternate thrusts to right and left. In this
way, the ball finds itself touching the ground
by turns with every point of its surface, a
process which perfects its shape and gives
an even consistency to ;ts outer layer by
means of pressure uniformly distributed.

And now to work with a will ! The thing
moves, it begins to roll; we shall get there,
though not without difficulty. Here is a first
awkward place : the Beetle is wending his way
athwart a slope and the heavy mass tends

10

The Sacred Beetle

to follow the incline ; the insect, however, for
reasons best known to itself, prefers to cut
across this natural road, a bold project which
may be brought to naught by a false step
or by a grain of sand which disturbs the
balance of the load. The false step is made :
down goes the ball to the bottom of the
valley; and the insect, toppled over by the
shock, is lying on its back, kicking. It is
soon up again and hastens to harness itself
once more to its load. The machine works
better than ever. But look out, you dunder-
head! Follow the dip of the valley: that
will save labour and mishaps; the road is
good and level; your ball will roll quite
easily. Not a bit of it! The Beetle pre-
pares once again to mount the slope that has
already been his undoing. Perhaps it suits
him to return to the heights. Against that
I have nothing to say: the Scarab's judgment
Is better than mine as to the advisability of
keeping to lofty regions; he can see farther
than I can in these matters. But at least
take this path, which will lead you up by
a gentle incline! Certainly not! Let him
find himself near some very steep slope, im-
possible to climb, and that is the very path
which the obstinate fellow will choose.
Now begins a Sisyphean labour. The ball,
II

The Sacred Beetle and Others

that enormous burden, is painfully hoisted,
step by step, with infinite precautions, to
a certain height, always backwards. We
wonder by what miracle of statics a mass of
this size can be kept upon the slope. Oh !
An ill-advised movement frustrates all this
toil: the ball rolls down, dragging the
Beetle with it. Once more the heights are
scaled and another fall is the sequel. The
attempt is renewed, with greater skill this
time at the difficult points; a wretched grass-
root, the cause of the previous falls, is care-
fully got over. We are almost there; but
steady now, steady! It is a dangerous
ascent and the merest trifle may yet ruin
everything. For see, a leg slips on a smooth
bit of gravel! Down come ball and Beetle,
all mixed up together. And the insect begins
over again, with indefatigable obstinacy.
Ten times, twenty times, he will attempt the
hopeless ascent, until his persistence van-
quishes all obstacles, or until, wisely recogni-
zing the futility of his efforts, he adopts the
level road.

The Scarab does not always push his
precious ball alone : sometimes he takes a
partner; or, to be accurate, the partner takes
him. This is the way in which things usu-

12

The Sacred Beetle

ally happen : once his ball is ready, a Dung-
beetle issues from the crowd and leaves the
workyard, pushing his prize backwards. A
neighbour, a newcomer, whose own task is
hardly begun, abruptly drops his work and
runs to the moving ball, to lend a hand to
the lucky owner, who seems to accept the
proffered aid kindly. Henceforth the two
work in partnership. Each does his best to
push the pellet to a place of safety. Was
a compact really concluded In the workyard,
a tacit agreement to share the cake between
them? While one was kneading and mould-
ing the ball, was the other tapping rich veins
whence to extract choice materials and add
them to the common store? I have never
observed any such collaboration; I have
always seen each Dung-beetle occupied solely
with his own affairs in the works. The
last-comer, therefore, has no acquired
rights.

Can It then be a partnership between the
two sexes, a couple intending to set up house?
I thought so for a time. The two Beetles,
one before, one behind, pushing the heavy
ball with equal fervour, reminded me of a
song which the hurdy-gurdies used to grind
out some years ago:

13

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Pour monter notre menage, helasi comment

ferons-nousf
Toi devant et moi derriere, nous pousserons

le tonneau.^

The evidence of the scalpel compelled me
to abandon my belief in this domestic idyll.
There is no outward difference between the
two sexes in the Scarabaei. I therefore dis-
sected the pair of Dung-beetles engaged in
trundling one and the same ball; and they
very often proved to be of the same sex.

Neither community of family nor com-
munity of labour ! Then what is the motive
for this apparent partnership? It is purely
and simply an attempt at robbery. The
zealous jfellow-worker, on the false plea of
lending a helping hand, cherishes a plan
to purloin the ball at the first opportunity.
To make one's own ball at the heap means
hard work and patience; to steal one ready-
made, or at least to foist one's self as a guest,
is a much easier matter. Should the owner's
vigilance slacken, you can run away with his
property; should you be too closely watched,
you can sit down to table uninvited, plead-

1 " When you and I start housekeeping, alas, what shall
we do?
You in front and I behind, we'll shove the tub
along ! "

14

The Sacred Beetle

ing services rendered. It is " Heads I win,
tails you lose " in these tactics, so that pillage
is practised as one of the most lucrative of
trades. Some go to work craftily, in the
way which I have described: they come
to the aid of a comrade who has not the least
need of them and hide the most barefaced
greed under the cloak of charitable assist-
ance. Others, bolder perhaps, more con-
fident in their strength, go straight to their
goal and commit robbery with violence.

Scenes are constantly happening such as
this : a Scarab goes off, peacefully, by him-
self, roUing his ball, his lawful property,
acquired by conscientious work. Another
comes flying up, I know not whence, drops
down heavily, folds his dingy wings under
their cases and, with the back of his toothed
fore-arms, knocks over the owner, who is
powerless to ward off the attack in his
awkward position, harnessed as he is to his
property. While the victim struggles to his
feet, the other perches himself atop the ball,
the best position from which to repel an
assailant. With his fore-arms crossed over
his breast, ready to hit back, he awaits
events. The dispossessed one moves round
the ball, seeking a favourable spot at which
to make the assault; the usurper spins round
15

The Sacred Beetle and Others

on the roof of the citadel, facing his opponent
all the time. If the latter raise himself in
order to scale the wall, the robber gives him
a blow that stretches him on his back. Safe
at the top of his fortress, the besieged Beetle
could foil his adversary's attempts in-
definitely if the latter did not change his
tactics. He turns sapper so as to reduce the
citadel with the garrison. The ball, shaken
from below, totters and begins rolling, carry-
ing with it the thieving Dung-beetle, who
makes violent efforts to maintain his position
on the top. This he succeeds in doing —
though not invariably — thanks to hurried
gymnastic feats which land him higher on the
ball and make up for the ground which he
loses by its rotation. Should a false move-
ment bring him to earth, the chances become
equal and the struggle turns into a wrestling-
match. Robber and robbed grapple with
each other, breast to breast. Their legs lock
and unlock, their joints intertwine, their horny
armour clashes and grates with the rasping
sound of metal under the file. Then the one
who succeeds in throwing his opponent and
releasing himself scrambles to the top of the
ball and there takes up his position. The
siege is renewed, now by the robber, now by
the robbed, as the chances of the hand-to-hand
i6

The Sacred Beetle

conflict may decree. Xhe former, a brawny
desperado, no novice at the game, often has
the best of the fight. Then, after two or
three unsuccessful attempts, the defeated
Beetle wearies and returns philosophically to
the heap, to make himself a new pellet.
As for the other, with all fear of a surprise
attack at an end, he harnesses himself to the
conquered ball and pushes It whither he
pleases. I have sometimes seen a third thief
appear upon the scene and rob the robber.
Nor can I honestly say that I was sorry.

I ask myself In vain what Proudhon ^
introduced into Scarabaean morality the da-
ring paradox that " property means plunder,"
or what diplomatist taught the Dung-beetle
the savage maxim that " might is right."
I have no data that would enable me to trace
the origin of these spoHatlons, which have
become a custom, of this abuse of strength
to capture a lump of ordure. All that I can
say is that theft is a general practice among
the Scarabs. These dung-rollers rob one
another with a calm effrontery which, to my
knowledge, is without a parallel. I leave it
to future observers to elucidate this curious

1 Pierre Joseph Proudhon (1809-1865), the French
socialist, author of Qu'est-ce que la propriete? etc. — Trans-
lator's Note.

17

The Sacred Beetle and Others

problem in animal psychology and I go back
to the two partners rolling their ball in con-
cert.

But first let me dispel a current error in the
text-books. I find in M. Emile Blanchard's ^
magnificent work, Metamorphoses, mceurs
et instincts des insectes, the following pas-
sage:

" Sometimes our insect is stopped by an in-
surmountable obstacle; the ball has fallen
into a hole. At such moments the Ateuchus ^
gives evidence of a really astonishing grasp
of the situation as well as of a system of
ready communication between individuals of
the same species which is even more remark-
able. Recognizing the impossibility of coax-
ing the ball out of the hole, the Ateuchus
seems to abandon it and flies away. If you
are suflSciently endowed with that great and
noble virtue called patience, stay by the for-
saken ball: after a while, the Ateuchus will
return to the same spot and will not return
alone; he will be accompanied by two, three,
four or five companions, who will all alight
at the place indicated and will combine their

1 fimile Blanchard (b. 1819), a French naturalist, best
known by his works on entomology. — Translator's Note.

2 The Scarabaei also bear the name of Ateuchus. — Au-
thor's Note.

18

The Sacred Beetle

efforts to raise the load. The Ateuchus has
been to fetch reinforcements; and this ex-
plains why it is such a common sight, in the
dry fields, to see several Ateuchi joining in
the removal of a single ball."

Finally, I read in lUiger's ^ Entomological

^Magazine:

" A Gymnopletirus pilularius,^ while con-
structing the ball of dung destined to con-
tain her eggs, let it roll into a hole, whence
she strove for a long time to extract it un-
aided. Finding that she was wasting her
time in vain efforts, she ran to a neighbour-
ing heap of manure to fetch three individuals
of her own species, who, uniting their
strength to hers, succeeded in withdrawing
the ball from the cavity into which it had
fallen and then returned to their manure to
continue their work."

I crave a thousand pardons of my il-

ijohann Karl Wilhelm Illiger (1775-1813), a German
naturalist, editor of a Magasin fiir Insektenkunde and au-
thor of Prodromus systemalis mammalium et avium, etc. —
Translator's Note.

2 Gymnopleurus pilularius is a Dung-beetle nearly re-
lated to the Sacred Beetle, but smaller. As his name sug-
gests, he also rolls pellets of dung. The Gymnopleurus is
very general, even in the north, whereas Scarabaeus sacer
is hardly ever found away from the shores of the Mediter-
ranean.— Author's Note.

19

The Sacred Beetle and Others

lustrlous master, M. Blanchard, but things
certainly do not happen as he says. To
begin with, the two accounts are so much alike
that they must have had a common origin.
Illiger, on the strength of observations not
continuous enough to deserve blind confi-
dence, put forward the case of his Gymno-
pleurus; and the same story was repeated
about the Scarabaei because it is, in fact,
quite usual to see two of these insects oc-
cupied together either in rolling a ball or in
getting It out of a troublesome place. But
this cooperation in no way proves that the
Dung-beetle who found himself In difficulties
went to requisition the aid of his mates.
I have had no small measure of the patience
recommended by M. Blanchard; I have lived
laborious days In close intimacy, if I may say
so, with the Sacred Beetle; I have done every-
thing that I could think of in order to enter
into his ways and habits as thoroughly as
possible and to study them from life; and I
have never seen anything that, suggested
either nearly or remotely the Idea of com-
panions summoned to lend assistance. As I
shall presently relate, I have subjected the
Dung-beetle to far more serious trials than
that of getting his ball into a hole; I have
confronted him with much graver difficulties

The Sacred Beetle

than that of mounting a slope, which is sheer
sport to the obstinate Sisyphus, who seems
to delight in the rough gymnastics involved
in climbing steep places, as if the ball thereby
grew firmer and accordingly increased in
value; I have created artificial situations in
which the insect had the uttermost need of
help; and never did my eyes detect any evi-
dence of friendly services being rendered by
comrade to comrade. I have seen Beetles
robbed and Beetles robbing and nothing
more. If a number of them were gathered
around the same pill, it meant that a battle
was taking place. My humble opinion,
therefore, is that the incident of a number
of Scarabaei collected around the same
ball with thieving intentions has given rise
to these stories of comrades called in to
lend a hand. Imperfect observations are
responsible for this transformation of the
bold highwayman into a helpful companion
who has left his work to do another a
friendly turn.

It is no light matter to attribute to an In-
sect a really astonishing grasp of a situation,
combined with an even more amazing power
of communication between Individuals of the
same species. Such an admission Involves
more than one imagines. That is why I in-

21

The Sacred Beetle and Others

sist on my point. What I Are we to beheve
that a Beetle in distress will conceive the idea
of going in quest of help? We are to
imagine him flying off and scouring the
country to find fellow-workers on some patch
of dung; when he has found them, we are
to suppose that he addresses them, in some
sort of pantomime, by gestures with his
antennae more particularly, in some such
words as these :

" I say, you fellows, my load's upset in
a hole over there; come and help me get it
out. I'll do as much for you one day! "

And we are to believe that his comrades
understand ! And, more incredible still, that
they straightway leave their work, the pellet
which they have just begun, the beloved pill
exposed to the cupidity of others and certain
to be filched in their absence, and go to the
help of the suppliant! I am profoundly in-
credulous of such unselfishness; and my in-
credulity is confirmed by what I have wit-
nessed for years and years, not in glass-cases
but in the very places where the Scarab works.
Apart from its maternal solicitude, in which
respect it is nearly always admirable, the in-
sect cares for nothing but itself, unless it lives
in sc^ieties, like the Hive-bees, the Ants and
the rest.

22

The Sacred Beetle

But let me end this digression, which is
excused by the importance of the subject. I
was saying that a Sacred Beetle, in possession
of a ball which he is pushing backwards, is
often joined by another, who comes hurrying
up to lend an assistance which is anything but
disinterested, his intention being to rob his
companion if the opportunity present itself.
Let us call the two workers partners,
though that is not the proper name for
them, seeing that the one forces himself upon
the other, who probably accepts outside help
only for fear of a worse evil. The meeting,
by the way, is absolutely peaceful. The
owner of the ball does not cease work for
an instant on the arrival of the newcomer;
and his uninvited assistant seems animated by
the best intentions and sets to work on the
spot. The way in which the two partners
harness themselves differs. The proprietor
occupies the chief position, the place of
honour: he pushes at the rear, with his hind-
legs in the air and his head down. His sub-
ordinate is in front, in the reverse posture,
head up, toothed arms on the ball, long hind-
legs on the ground. Between the two, the
ball rolls along, one driving it before him,
the other pulling It towards him.

The efforts of the couple are not always
23

The Sacred Beetle and Others

very harmonious, the more so as the assistant
has his back to the road to be traversed, while
the owner's view is impeded by the load.
The result is that they are constantly having
accidents, absurd tumbles, taken cheerfully
and in good part: each picks himself up
quickly and resumes the same position as be-
fore. On level ground, this system of trac-
tion does not correspond with the dynamic
force expended, through lack of precision in
the combined movements: the Scarab at the
back would do as well and better if left to
himself. And so the helper, having given
a proof of his good-will at the risk of throw-
ing the machinery out of gear, now decides
to keep still, without letting go of the precious
ball, of course. He already looks upon that
as his: a ball touched is a ball gained. He
won't be so silly as not to stick to it : the other
might give him the slip !

So he gathers his legs flat under his belly,
encrusting himself, so to speak, on the ball
and becoming one with it. Henceforth, the
whole concern — the ball and 'the Beetle
clinging to its surface — is rolled along by
the efforts of the lawful owner. The in-
truder sits tight and lies low, heedless
whether the load pass over his body, whether
he be at the top, bottom or side of the roll-
24

The Sacred Beetle

ing ball. A queer sort of assistant, who gets
a free ride so as to make sure of his share of
the victuals !

But a steep ascent heaves in sight and gives
him a fine part to play. He takes the lead
now, holding up the heavy mass with his
toothed arms, while his mate seeks a pur-
chase in order to hoist the load a little higher.
In this way, by a combination of well-directed
efforts, the Beetle above gripping, the one
below pushing, I have seen a couple mount
hills which would have been too much for a
single porter, however persevering. But in
times of difficulty not all show the same zeal:
there are some who, on awkward slopes
where their assistance is most needed, seem
blissfully unaware of the trouble. While the
unhappy Sisyphus exhausts himself in at-
tempts to get over the bad part, the other
quietly leaves him to it : imbedded in the
ball, he rolls down with it if it comes to grief
and is hoisted up with it when they start
afresh.

I have often tried the following experiment
on the two partners in order to judge their
inventive faculties when placed in a serious
predicament. Suppose them to be on level
ground, number two seated motionless on the
ball, number one busy pushing. Without
25

The Sacred Beetle and Others

disturbing the latter, I nail the ball to the
ground with a long, strong pin. It stops
suddenly. The Beetle, unaware of my
perfidy, doubtless believes that some natural
obstacle, a rut, a tuft of couch-grass, a
pebble, bars the way. He redoubles his
efforts, struggles his hardest; nothing hap-
pens.

" What can the matter be? Let's go and
see."

The Beetle walks two or three times round
his pellet. Discovering nothing to account
for its immobility, he returns to the rear
and starts pushing again. The ball remains
stationary.

" Let's look up above."

The Beetle goes up to find nothing but his
motionless colleague, for I had taken care to
drive in the pin so deep that the head dis-
appeared in the ball. He explores the whole
upper surface and comes down again.
Fresh thrusts are vigorously applied in front
and at the sides, with the same absence of
success. There is not a doubt about it : never
before was Dung-beetle confronted with such
a problem in inertia.

Now is the time, the very time, to claim
assistance, which is all the easier as his mate
is there, close at hand, squatting on the
26

The Sacred Beetle

summit of the ball. Will the Scarab rouse
him? Will he talk to him like this :

"What are you doing there, lazybones?
Come and look at the thing: it's broken
down! "

Nothing proves that he does anything of
the kind, for I see him steadily shaking the
unshakable, inspecting his stationary ma-
chine on every side, while all this time his
companion sits resting. At long last, how-
ever, the latter becomes aware that some-
thing unusual is happening; he is apprised
of it by his mate's restless tramping and by
the immobility of the ball. He comes down,
therefore, and in his turn examines the ma-
chine. Double harness does no better than
single harness. This is beginning to look
serious. The little fans of the Beetles' an-
tennae open and shut, open again, betraying
by their agitation acute anxiety. Then a
stroke of genius ends the perplexity:

" Who knows what's underneath? "

They now start exploring below the ball;
and a little digging soon reveals the presence
of the pin. They recognize at once that the
trouble is there.

If I had had a voice in their deliberations,
I should have said:

"We must make a hole in the ball and
27

The Sacred Beetle and Others

pull out that skewer which is holding it
down."

This most elementary of all proceedings
and one so easy to such expert diggers was
not adopted, was not even tried. The Dung-
beetle was shrewder than man. The two
colleagues, one on this side, one on that, slip
under the ball, which begins to slide up the
pin, getting higher and higher in proportion
as the living wedges make their way under-
neath. The clever operation is made pos-
sible by the softness of the material, which
gives easily and makes a channel under
the head of the immovable stake. Soon
the pellet Is suspended at a height equal to
the thickness of the Scarabs' bodies. The
rest is not such plain sailing. The Dung-
beetles, who at first were lying flat, rise
gradually to their feet, still pushing with their
backs. The work becomes harder and
harder as the legs, in straightening out,
lose their strength; but none the less they
do It. Then comes a time when they can
no longer push with their backs, the limit
of their height having been reached. A
last resource remains, but one much less
favourable to the development of motive
power. This Is for the Insect to adopt one
or other of its postures when harnessed to
28

The Sacred Beetle

the ball, head down or up, and to push with
its hind- or fore-legs, as the case may be.
Finally the ball drops to the ground, unless
we have used too long a pin. The gash
made by our stake is repaired more or less
and the carting of the precious pellet is at
once resumed.

But, should the pin really be too long, then
the ball, which remains firmly fixed, ends by
being suspended at a height above that of
the insect's full stature. In that case, after
vain evolutions around the unconquerable
greased pole, the Dung-beetles throw up the
sponge, unless we are sufficiently kind-hearted
to finish the work ourselves and restore their
treasure to them. Or again we can help
them by raising the floor with a small flat
stone, a pedestal from the top of which it is
possible for the Beetle to continue his labours.
Its use does not appear to be immediately
understood, for neither of the two is in any
hurry to take advantage of it. Nevertheless,
by accident or design, one or other at last
finds himself on the stone. Oh, joy! As he
passed, he felt the ball touch his back. At
that contact, courage returns ; and his efforts
begin once more. Standing on his helpful
platform, the Scarab stretches his joints,
rounds his shoulders, as one might say, and
29

The Sacred Beetle and Others

shoves the pellet upwards. When his
shoulders no longer avail, he works with his
legs, now upright, now head downwards.
Xhere is a fresh pause, accompanied by fresh
signs of uneasiness, when the limit of exten-
sion is reached. Thereupon, without dis-
turbing the creature, we place a second Httle
stone on the top of the first. With the aid
of this new step, which provides a fulcrum
for its leyers, the insect pursues its task.
Thus adding story upon story as required,
I have seen the Scarab, hoisted to the
summit of a tottering pile three or four
fingers'-breadth in height, persevere in his
work until the ball was completely detached.
Had he some vague consciousness of the
service performed by the gradual raising of
the pedestal? I venture to doubt it, though
he cleverly took advantage of my platform
of little stones. As a matter of fact, if the
very elementary Idea of using a higher sup-
port' in order to reach something placed
above one's grasp were not beyond the
Beetle's comprehension, how is it that, when
there are two of them, neither thinks of lend-
ing the other his back so as to raise him by
that much and make it possible for him to go
on working? If one helped the other in
this way, they could reach twice as high.
30

The Sacred Beetle

They are very far, however, from any such
cooperation. Each pushes the ball, with all
his might, I admit, but he pushes as if he were
alone and seems to have no notion of the
happy result that would follow a combined
effort. In this instance, when the ball is
nailed to the ground by a pin, they do exactly
what they do in corresponding circumstances,
as, for example, when the load is brought
to a standstill by some obstacle, caught in a
loop of couch-grass or transfixed by some
spiky bit of stalk that has run into the soft,
rolling mass. I produced artificially a
stoppage which is not really very different
from those occurring naturally when the ball
is being rolled amid the thousand and one
irregularities of the ground; and the Beetle
behaves, in my experimental tests, as he would
have behaved in any other circumstances in
which I had no part. He uses his back as
a wedge and a lever and pushes with his feet,
without introducing anything new into his
methods, even when he has a companion and
can avail himself of his assistance.

When he is all alone in face of the
difficulty, when he has no assistant, his
dynamic operations remain absolutely the
same; and his efforts to move his transfixed
ball end In success, provided that we give
31

The Sacred Beetle and Others

him the indispensable support of a platform,
built up little by little. If we deny him this
succour, then, no longer encouraged by the
contact of his beloved ball, he loses heart
and sooner or later flies away, doubtless with
many regrets, and disappears. Where to?
I do not know. What I do know is that he
does not return with a gang of fellow-
labourers whom he has begged to help him.
What would he do with them, he who cannot
make use of even one comrade?

But perhaps my experiment, which leaves
the ball suspended at an inaccessible height
and the insect with its means of action
exhausted, is a little too far removed from
ordinary conditions. Let us try instead a
miniature pit, deep enough and steep enough
to prevent the Dung-beetle, when placed
at the bottom, from rolling his load up the
side. These are exactly the conditions stated
by Messrs. Blanchard and Illiger. Well,
what happens? When dogged but utterly
fruitless efforts have convinced him of his
helplessness, the Beetle takes wing and dis-
appears. Relying upon what these learned
writers said, I have waited long hours for
the insect to return reinforced by a few
friends. I have always waited in vain.
Many a time also I have found the pellet
32

The Sacred Beetle

several days later just where I left It, stuck
at the top or a pin or In a hole, proving that
nothing fresh had happened in my absence.
A ball abandoned from necessity Is a ball
abandoned for good, with no attempt at
salvage with the aid of others. A dexterous
use of wedge and lever to set the ball rolling
again Is therefore, when all Is said, the great-
est Intellectual effort which I have observed
in the Sacred Beetle. To make up for what
the experiment refutes, namely an appeal for
help among fellow-workers, I gladly chroni-
cle this feat of mechanical prowess for the
Dung-beetles' greater glory.

Directing their steps at random, over
sandy plains thick with thyme, over cart-ruts
and steep places, the two Beetle brethren roll
the ball along for some time, thus giving
its substance a certain consistency which may
be to their liking. While still on the road,
they select a favourable spot. The rightful
owner, the Beetle who throughout has kept
the place of honour, behind the ball, the one
in short who has done almost all the carting
by himself, sets to work to dig the dining-
room. Beside him Is the ball, with number
two clinging to it, shamming dead. Num-
ber one attacks the sand with his sharp-
33

The Sacred Beetle and Others

edged forehead and his toothed legs; he
flings armfuls of it behind him; and the work
of excavating proceeds apace. Soon the
Beetle has disappeared from view in the
half-dug cavern. Whenever he returns to
the upper air with a load, he invariably
glances at his ball to see If all Is well. From
time to time, he brings it nearer the threshold
of the burrow; he feels it and seems to ac-
quire new vigour from the contact. The
other, lying demure and motionless on the
ball, continues to inspire confidence. Mean-
while the underground hall grows larger and
deeper; and the digger's field of operations
is now too vast for any but very occasional
appearances. Now is the time. The crafty
sleeper awakens and hurriedly decamps with
the ball, which he pushes behind him with the
speed of a pickpocket anxious not to be
caught in the act. This breach of trust
rouses my indignation, but the historian tri-
umphs for the moment over the moralist and
I leave him alone : I shall have time enough
to intervene on the side of law and order if
things threaten to turn out badly.

The thief is already some yards away.

His victim comes out of the burrow, looks

around and finds nothing. Doubtless an old

hand himself, he knows what this means.

34

The Sacred Beetle

Scent and sight soon put him an the track.
He makes haste and catches up the robber;
but the artful dodger, when he feels his
pursuer close on his heels, promptly changes
his posture, gets on his hind-legs and clasps
the ball with his toothed arms, as he does
when acting as an assistant.

You rogue, you! I see through your
tricks : you mean to plead as an excuse that
the pellet rolled down the slope and that
you are only trying to stop it and bring it
back home. I, however, an impartial wit-
ness, declare that the ball was quite steady
at the entrance to the burrow and did not roll
of its own accord. Besides, the ground is
level. I declare that I saw you set the thing
in motion and make off with unmistakable
intentions. It was an attempt at larceny, or
I've never seen one!

My evidence is not admitted. The owner
cheerfully accepts the other's excuses; and
the two bring the ball back to the burrow as
though nothing had happened.

If the thief, however, has time to get far
enough away, or if he manages to cover his
trail by adroitly doubling back, the injury
is irreparable. To collect provisions under
a blazing sun, to cart them a long distance,
to dig a comfortable banqueting-hall in the
35

The Sacred Beetle and Others

sand and then — just when everything is
ready and your appetite, whetted by exercise,
lends an added charm to the approaching
feast — suddenly to find yourself cheated
by a crafty partner is, it must be admitted,
a reverse of fortune that would dishearten
most of us. The Dung-beetle does not allow
himself to be cast down by this piece of ill-
luck: he rubs his cheeks, spreads his an-
tennae, sniffs the air and flies to the nearest
heap to begin all over again. I admire and
envy this cast of character.

Suppose the Scarab fortunate enough to
have found a loyal partner; or, better still,
suppose that he has met no self-invited
companion. The burrow is ready. It is a
shallow cavity, about the« size of one's fist,
dug in soft earth, usually in sand, and com-
municating with the outside by a short
passage just wide enough to admit the ball.
As soon as the provisions are safely stored
away, the Scarab shuts himself in by stopping
up the entrance to his dwelling with rubbish
kept in a corner for the purpose. Once the
door is closed, nothing outside betrays the
existence of the banquetlng-chamber. And,
now, hail mirth and joUity! All is for the
best in the best of all possible worlds ! The
table Is sumptuously spread; the ceiling tem-
36

The Sacred Beetle

pers the heat of the sun and allows only a
moist and gentle warmth to penetrate; the
undisturbed quiet, the darkness, the Crickets*
concert overhead are all pleasai;it aids to di-
gestion. So complete has been the illusion
that I have caught myself listening at the
door, expecting to hear the revellers burst
into the famous snatch in Galatee:^

Ah! qu'il est doux de ne rien faire,
Quand tout s'agite autour de nous.^

Who would dare disturb the bliss of such
a banquet? But the desire for knowledge
is capable of all things; and I had the neces-
sary daring. I will set down here the re-
sult of my violation of the home.

The ball by itself fills almost the whole
room; the rich repast rises from floor to
ceiling. A narrow passage runs between
it and the walls. Here sit the banqueters,
two at most, very often only one, belly to
table, back to the wall. Once the seat is
chosen, no one stirs; all the vital forces are
absorbed by the digestive faculties. There

1 A light opera, with music by Victor Masse and libretto
by Jules Barbier and Michel Carre (iSs2)-— Translator's
Note.

2 " Ah, how sweet is far niente,

When round us throbs the busy world ! "
Z7

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Is no fidgeting, which might mean the loss
of a mouthful; no dainty toying with the
food, which might cause some to be wasted.
Everything has to pass through, properly
and in order. To see them seated so
solemnly around a ball of dung, one would
think that they were conscious of their
function as cleansers of the earth and that
they were deliberately devoting themselves
to that marvellous chemistry which out of
filth brings forth the flower that delights our
eyes and the Beetles' wing-case that jewels
our lawns in spring. For this supreme work
which turns into living matter the refuse which
neither the Horse nor the Mule can utilize,
despite the perfection of their digestive
organs, the Dung-beetle must needs be
specially equipped. And indeed anatomy
compels us to admire the prodigious length
of his coiled intestine, which slowly
elaborates the materials in its manifold wind-
ings and exhausts them to the very last
serviceable atom. Matter from which the
ruminant's stomach could extract nothing,
yields to this powerful alembic riches that,
at a mere touch, are transmuted into ebon
mail in the Sacred Scarab and a breast-
plate of gold and rubies in other Dung-
beetles.

38

The Sacred Beetle

Now this wonderful metamorphosis of
ordure has to be accomphshed in the short-
est possible time: the public health demands
it. And so the Scarab is endowed with
matchless digestive powers. Once housed in
the company of food, he goes on eating and
digesting, day and night, until the provisions
are exhausted. There is no difficulty in
proving this. Open the cell to which the
Dung-beetle has retired from the world. At
any hour of the day, we shall find the insect
seated at table and, behind it, still hanging
to it, a continuous cord, roughly coiled like
a pile of cables. One can easily guess, with-
out embarrassing explanations, what this
cord represents. The great ball of dung
passes mouthful by mouthful through the
Beetle's digestive canals, yielding up its
nutritive essences, and reappears at the op-
posite end spun into a cord. Well, this un-
broken cord, which is always found hanging
from the aperture of the draw-plate, is
ample proof, without further evidence, that
the digestive processes go on without ceasing.
When the provisions are coming to an end,
the cable unrolled is of an astounding length:
it can be measured in feet. Where shall we
find the like of this stomach which, to avoid
any loss when life's balance-sheet is made out,

39

The Sacred Beetle and Others

feasts for a week or a fortnight, without
stopping, on such distasteful fare?

When the whole ball has passed through
the machine, the hermit comes back to the
daylight, tries his luck afresh, finds another
patch of dung, fashions a new ball and starts
eating again. This life of pleasure lasts for
a month or two, from May to June; then,
with the coming of the fierce heat beloved
of the Cicadae,^ the Sacred Beetles take up
their summer quarters and bury themselves In
the cool earth. They reappear with the first
autumn rains, less numerous and less active
than In spring, but now seemingly absorbed In
the most important work of all, the future of
the species.

1 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre,
translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, i. to
V. — Translator's Note.

40

CHAPTER II

THE SACRED BEETLE IN CAPTIVITY

TF we ransack the books for information
''■ about the habits of the dung-rollers in
general and the Sacred Beetle in particular,
we find that modern science still clings to
some of the beliefs which were current in
the days of the Pharaohs. We are told that
the ball which is bumped across the fields con-
tains an egg, that it is a cradle in which the
future larva is to find both board and lodging.
fThe parents roll it over hilly country to make
it nice and round; and, when jolts and jars
and tumbles down steep places have shaped it
properly, they bury it and abandon it to the
care of that great incubator, the earth.

So rough an upbringing has always seemed
to me improbable. How could a Beetle's
egg, that delicate thing, so sensitive under its
soft wrapper, survive the shaking-up which
it would undergo in that rolling cradle? In
the germ is a spark of life which the least
touch, the veriest trifle can extinguish. Are
we to believe that the parents would de-
41

The Sacred Beetle and Others

llberately bump it over hill and dale for
hours? No, that is not the way in which
things happen; a mother does not subject her
offspring to the torture of a Regulus' barrel.

However, something more than logic
was needed to make a clean sweep of
accepted opinions. I therefore opened
some hundreds of the pellets that were being
rolled along by the Dung-beetles; I opened
others which I took from holes dug before
my eyes; and never once did I find either a
central cell or an egg in those pellets. They
were invariably rough lumps of food,
fashioned in haste, with no definite internal
structure, merely so much provender with
which the Beetle retires to spend a few days
in undisturbed gluttony. The dung-rollers
covet and steal them from one another with
a keenness which they would certainly not
display in robbing one another of new family
charges. For Sacred Beetles to go stealing
eggs would be an absurdity, each of them
having quite enough to do in securing the
future of his own. So this point is hence-
forward settled beyond question: the pellets
which we see the Dung-beetles rolling never
contain eggs.

My first attempt to solve the knotty
problem of the larva's rearing involved the
42

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

construction of a spacious vivarium, with an
artificial soil of sand and a constant sup-
ply of provisions. Into this cage I put
some twenty Sacred Beetles, together with
Copres, Gyranopleuri and Onthophagi. No
entomological experiment ever cost me so
many disappointments. The difficulty was
the renewing of the food supply. Now my
landlord owned a stable and a Horse. I
gained the confidence of his man, who at
first laughed at my proposals, but soon
allowed himself to be convinced by the sight
•of silver. Each of my Insects' breakfasts
came to twenty-five centimes. I am sure
that no Beetle budget ever amounted to such
a sum before. Well, I can still see and I
shall always see Joseph, after grooming the
Horse of a morning, put his head over the
garden-wall and, making a speaking-trumpet
of his hand, call " Hi I " to me in a whisper.
I would hurry up to receive a potful of
droppings. Caution was necessary on both
sides, as the sequel will show you. One
day, the master happened to come up just
when the transfer was being made and took
it Into his head that all his manure was
going over the wall and that what he wanted
for his cabbages went to grow my verbenas
and narcissi. Vainly I tried to explain: he

43

The Sacred Beetle and Others

thought that I was being funny. Poor
Joseph was scolded, called all manner of
names and threatened with dismissal if it
happened again. It didn't.

I had one resource left, which was to go
ignominiously along the high-road and
furtively collect my captives' daily bread in
a paper bag. This I did and I am not
ashamed of it. Sometimes fortune favoured
me: a Donkey carrying the produce of the
Chateau-Renard or Barbentane kitchen-
gardens to the Avignon market would drop
his contribution as he passed my door. The
gratuity, picked up instantly, made me rich
jfor several days. In short, by scheming,
waiting, running about and playing the
diplomat for a blob of dung, I managed to
feed my prisoners. If a passion for one's
work and a love which nothing can dis-
courage ensure success, my experiment ought
to have succeeded. It did not succeed.
After a time, my Sacred Beetles, pining for
their native heath in a space too limited for
their elaborate evolutions, died miserable
deaths, without revealing their secret. The
Gymnopleuri and Onthophagi were not so
disappointing. At the proper time I shall
make use of the Information which I ob-
tained from them.

44

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

Together with my attempts at home
breeding I carried on my direct investiga-
tions abroad. The resuks fell far short of
my wishes. One day I decided that I must
enlist outside help. As it happened, a merry
band of youngsters was crossing the plateau.
It was a Thursday.^ Untroubled by
thoughts of school and horrid lessons, they
were coming from the neighbouring village
of Les Angles, with an apple in one hand
and a piece of bread in the other, and wend-
ing their way to the bare hill yonder, where
the bullets bury themselves harmlessly when
the garrison is at rifle-practice. The object
of this early morning expedition was the un-
earthing of a few bits of lead, worth perhaps
a halfpenny the lot. The small pink
blossoms of the wild geranium decked the
scanty patches of grass which for a brief
moment beautified this Arabia Petraea; the
Wheat-ear, in his black-and-white motley,
twittered as he flew from one rocky point to
another; on the threshold of burrows dug at
the foot of the thyme-tufts, the Crickets were
filling the air with their droning symphony.
And the children were rejoicing in this
springtide happiness and rejoicing still more

1 The weekly holiday in the French schools. — Translator's
Note.

45

The Sacred Beetle and Others

in the prospect of wealth, the halfpenny
which they would receive for such bullets as
they found, the halfpenny which would en-
able them to buy two peppermint bull's-eyes
next Sunday, two of the big ones, at a
farthing apiece, from the woman at the stall
outside the church.

I accost the tallest, whose sharp face
gives me some hope of him; the little ones
stand round, eating their apples. I explain
what I want and show them the Sacred
Beetle rolling his ball; I tell them that in
some such ball, hidden somewhere or other
underground, there is occasionally a little
hollow place and in that hollow a little
worm. The thing to do is to dig around
at random, keeping an eye on what the
Beetles are doing, and to find the ball con-
taining the worm. Balls without a worm
don't count. And, to tempt them with a
fabulous sum which shall henceforth divert
to my purposes the time devoted to a few
farthings' worth of lead, I promise to pay
a franc, a shiny new twenty-sou piece, for
each occupied ball. At the mention of this
sum, those adorably Innocent eyes open their
widest. I have upset all their ideas of
finance by naming this fanciful price. Then,
to show that my proposal is serious, I
46

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

distribute a few sous as earnest-money. I
arrange to be there next week, on the same
day and at the same time, and faithfully to
perform my part of the bargain towards all
those who have made the lucky find. After
carefully posting the party in their duties, I
dismiss them.

" He means it! " the children said, as they
went away. " He really means it! If only
we could make a franc apiece ! "

And, their hearts swelling with fond
hopes, they clinked the sous in their hands.
The flattened bullets were forgotten. I saw
the children scatter over the plain and begin
their search.

On the appointed day, a week later, I re-
turned to the plateau. I was confident of
success. My young helpers were sure to
have spoken to their playmates of this
lucrative trade in Beetle-balls and convinced
the incredulous by displaying their earnest-
money. And Indeed I found a larger party
than the first time awaiting me on the spot.
They came running to meet me, but there
was no burst of triumph, no shout of joy.
I suspected at once that things were going
badly; and my suspicions were but too well-
founded. Many times, after coming out
of school, they had hunted for what I had
47

The Sacred Beetle and Others

described, but they had never discovered
anything Hke it. They handed me a few
pellets found underground with the Beetle,
but these were simply masses of provisions,
containing no larva. I explained matters
anew and made another appointment for the
following Thursday. Again the search was
unsuccessful. The disheartened little hunt-
ers were now reduced to quite a small
number. I made a final appeal to their
sportsmanship and perseverance; but no-
thing came of it. And I ended by com-
pensating the most industrious, those who
had held out to the last, and cancelling the
bargain. I had to conduct my own re-
searches, which, though apparently very
simple, were in reality extremely difficult.

Many years have passed since then, but
even today I am without any definite, con-
sistent result after all my digging and ex-
ploring, though I have made my examina-
tions at the most likely spots and have care-
fully watched for favourable opportunities.
I am reduced to piecing together my In-
complete observations and filling up the gaps
by analogy.^ The little that I have seen,

1 This seems the place in which to remind the reader that
the first two chapters of the present volume correspond with
Chapters I. and II. of the first volume of the Souvenirs

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

combined with my study of other Dung-
beetles in captivity — Gymnopleuri, Copras
and Onthophagi — is summed up in what
follows.

The ball which is destined to contain the
egg is not made in public, in the hurry and
confusion of the dung-yard. It is a work of
art and supreme patience, demanding con-
centration and scrupulous care, both alike
impossible in the thick of the crowd. One
needs sohtude in order to think out a plan
of operations and set to work. So the
mother digs in the sand a burrow four to
eight inches deep. It is a rather spacious
hall communicating with the outer world
by a much narrower passage. The insect
brings into it carefully selected materials,
doubtless in spherical form. There must be
many journeys, for towards the end of the
work the contents of the cell are out of all
proportion to the size of the entrance-door
and- could not be stored at one attempt. I
remember a Spanish Copris who, at the time
of my inspection, was finishing a ball as big
as an orange at the far end of a burrow

entomologiques in their original form. Chapters III. to
VII. of the present volume are translations of Chapters I.
to V. of the fifth volume of the Souvenirs, published many
years later, at a time when Fabre had completed his study
of the Sacred Beetle. — Translator's Note.
49

The Sacred Beetle and Others

whose only communication with the outside
was by means of a gallery into which I was
just able to insert my finger. It is true that
the Copres do not roll pills and do not
travel long distances to fetch food home.
They dig a hole immediately under the dung
and drag the material backwards, armful by
armful, to the bottom of their well. They
have thus no difficulty in provisioning their
houses ; moreover, they work in security un-
der the shelter of the manure : two conditions
that promote luxurious tastes. [The Dung-
beetles that follow the humble trade of pill-
rollers are less extravagant; and yet, if he
cares to make two or three journeys, the
Sacred Beetle can amass wealth of which the
Spanish Copris might well be jealous.

So far, the Beetle has only raw material,
lumped together anyhow. A minute sorting
has to take place before anything else is
done : this stuff, the purest, is for the inner
layer on which the grub will feed; that other,
coarser stuff is for the outer layers, which
are not meant for food and serve only as
a protecting shell. Then, around a central
hollow which receives the egg, the materials
must be arranged In successive strata, ac-
cording as they are less refined and less
nutritive; the layers must possess a proper
50

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

consistency and must be made to adhere to
one another; last of all, the stringy bits in
the exterior layers, which have to protect the
whole structure, must be felted together.
How does the clumsy Sacred Beetle, who is
so stiff in her movements, accomplish a work
of this kind in complete darkness, at the
bottom of a hole crammed with provisions
and hardly leaving room to stir? When I
consider the delicacy of the workmanship
and then the rough tools of the worker —
angular limbs capable of cutting into hard
or even rocky soil — I think of an Elephant
trying to make lace. Let whoso can explain
this miracle of maternal industry; as for me,
I give it up, all the more as I have not had
the luck to see the artist at work. We will
confine ourselves to describing her master-
piece.

The ball containing the egg is usually the
size of an average apple. In the centre is
an oval hollow about two-fifths of an inch in
diameter. The egg is fixed at the bottom,
standing perpendicularly; it is cylindrical,
rounded at both ends, yellowish-white and
about as large as a grain of wheat, but
shorter. The inside of the niche is coated
with a shiny, greenish-brown, semi-fluid
material, a real stercoral cream, destined to
SI

The Sacred Beetle and Others

form the larva's first mouthfuls. To make
this dainty food, does the mother collect the
quintessence of the dung? The appearance
of it tells me something different and makes
me certain that it is a pap prepared in the
maternal stomach. The Pigeon softens the
grain in her crop and turns it into a sort of
milky pap which she subsequently disgorges
to her brood. To all seeming, the Dung-
beetle displays the same solicitude: she half-
digests choice provender and disgorges it in
the form of a meat-extract with which she
lines the walls of the cavity where the egg is
laid. Thus the larva, on hatching, finds
an easily-digested food, which very soon
strengthens its stomach and enables it to at-
tack the under-lying strata, which have not
been refined in the same way. Under the
semi-fluid paste is a soft, well-compressed,
uniform mass, from which every stringy par-
ticle Is excluded. Beyond this are the
coarser layers, abounding in vegetable fibres.
Finally, the outside of the ball is composed
of the commonest materials, but packed and
felted into a stout rind.

Manifestly we have here a progressive

change of diet. On leaving the egg, the

frail grub licks the dainty broth on the

walls of its cell. There is not much of

52

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

this, but It is strengthening and very
nutritious. The pap of earhest infancy is
followed by the more solid food given to
the weaned nurseling, a sort of paste that
stands midway between the exquisitely
delicate fare at the start and the coarse
provisions at the finish. There is a thick
layer of it, enough to turn the infant into
a sturdy youngster. But now for the strong
comes strong meat: barley-bread with its
husks, that is to say, natural droppings full
of sharp bits of hay. Of this the larva has
enough and to spare; and, when it has at-
tained its full growth, there remains an en-
closing layer. The capacity of the dwelling
has increased with the growth of the oc-
cupant, fed on the very substance of the
walls; the original little cell with the very
thick walls is now a big cell with walls only
a few millimetres in thickness; the inner
layers have become larva, nymph or Beetle,
according to the period. Lastly, the ball
itself is a stout shell, protecting within its
spacious interior the mysterious processes of
the metamorphosis.

I can go no farther, for lack of observa-
tions; my records of the birth of the Sacred
Beetle stop short at the egg. I have not seen
the larva, which however is known and is

53

The Sacred Beetle and Others

described in the text-books;^ nor have I
seen the perfect insect while still enclosed
in its chamber in the ball, before it has
had any practice in its duties as a pill-roller
and excavator. And this is just what I
particularly wanted to see. I should have
liked to find the Dung-beetle in his native
eel, recently transformed, new to all labour,
so as to examine the workman's hand before
it started its work. I will tell you the reason
for this wish.

Insects have at the end of each leg a sort
of finger, or tarsus as it is called, consisting
of a succession of delicate parts which may
be compared with the joints of our fingers.
They end in a hooked claw. One finger
to each leg: that is the rule; and this finger,
at least with the higher Beetles and notably
the Dung-beetles, has five phalanges or
joints. Now, by a really strange exception,
the Scarabs have no tarsi on their front
legs, while possessing very well-shaped ones,
with five joints apiece, on the two other
pairs. They are maimed, crippled: they
lack, on their fore-limbs, that which in the
insect very roughly represents our hand.
A similar anomaly occurs in the Onitis- and

1 Cf. Mulsant's CoUopteres de France: Lamellicornes —
Author's Note.

54

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

Bubas-beetles, who also belong to the
Dung-beetle family. Entomology has long
recorded this curious fact, without being
able to offer a satisfactory explanation. Is
the creature born maimed, does it come into
the world without fingers to its fore-limbs?
Or does it lose them by accident, once it is
given over to its toilsome labours?

One could easily imagine this mutilation
to be the result of the insect's hard work.
Poking about, digging and raking and slicing
up, at one time in the gravelly soil, at
another in the stringy mass of manure, does
not constitute a task in which organs so
delicate as the tarsi can be employed with-
out risk. And here is an even more serious
matter: when the Beetle is roUing his ball
backwards, with his head down, it is with
the extremities of his fore-feet that he
presses against the ground. What might
not happen to the insect's feeble fingers,
slender as a bit of thread, as the result of
this continual rubbing against the rough soil?
They are useless, merely in the way; one
day or other they seem bound to disappear,
crushed, torn off, worn out in a thousand
ways. We know unfortunately that our
own workmen are all too frequently injured
in handling heavy tools and hfting great
55

The Sacred Beetle and Others

weights; even so might the Scarab be
crippled in rolling his ball, an enormous load
to him. In that case his maimed arms
would be a noble testimony to his industrious
life.

But straightway grave doubts begin to
assail us. If these mutilations were really
accidental and the result of too strenuous
work, they would be the exception, not the
rule. Because a workman or several work-
men have had a hand caught and crushed in
a machine, it does not follow that all the
rest will also lose their hands. If the
Scarab sometimes, or even very frequently,
loses his fore-fingers in pursuing his trade as
a pill-roller, there must be some at least who,
more fortunate or more skilful, have
preserved their tarsi. Let us then consult
the actual facts. I have observed in very
large numbers the various species of
Scarahaei that inhabit France : Scarahaeus
sacer, who is common In Provence; S.
semipunctatiis, who keeps fairly close to the
sea and frequents the sandy shores of Cette,
Palavas and the Golfe Juan; lastly, S.
latkolUs, who is much more widely dis-
tributed than either of the others and is
found up the Rhone Valley at least as far
as Lyons. In addition, I have studied an
56

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

African species, S, cicatricosus, picked up
near Constantine. Well, in all four species,
the absence of tarsi on the front legs has
been an invariable fact, with not a single
exception, at any rate within the range of
my observations. The Scarab therefore is
maimed from the start; and it is a natural
peculiarity in his case, not an accident.

Besides, there is another argument in
support of this statement. If the lack of
fore-fingers were an accidental mutilation,
due to violent exertion, there are other in-
sects. Dung-beetles too, who habitually
undertake works of excavation even more
arduous than the Scarab's and who ought
therefore, a fortiori, to be deprived of their
front tarsi, since these are useless and even
irksome when the leg has to serve as a
powerful digging-implement. The Geo-
trupes, for instance, who so well deserve
their name, meaning Earth-piercers, sink
wells in the hard soil of the roads, among
stones cemented with clay: perpendicular
wells so deep that, to inspect the cell at the
bottom of them, we have to make use of a
stout spade ; and even then we do not always
succeed. Now these unrivalled miners, who
easily open up long tunnels in a substance
whose surface the Sacred Beetle would
57

The Sacred Beetle and Others

hardly be able to disturb, have their front
tarsi intact, as if cutting through rock were
work calling for delicate tools rather than
strong ones. Everything then promotes the
belief that, if we could see the Scarab while
still a novice in his native cell, we should
find him to be mutilated in just the same way
as the much-travelled veteran who has worn
himself out with toil.

This absence of fingers might serve as the
foundation for an argument in favour of the
theories now in fashion : the struggle for life
and the evolution of the species. People
might say:

" The Scarabs began by having tarsi to all
their legs, in conformity with the general
laws of insect structure. In one way or an-
other, some of them lost these troublesome
appendages to their front legs, they being
hurtful rather than useful. Finding them-
selves the better for this mutilation, which
made their work easier, they gained the
advantage over their less-favoured fellows;
they founded a family by handing down their
•fingerless stumps to their descendants; and
the fingered insect of antiquity ended by be-
coming the maimed insect of our times."

I am ready to yield to this reasoning if
you will first tell me why, with similar but
S8

The Sacred Beetle in Captivity

much harder tasks to perform, the Geotrupes
has retained his tarsi. Until then we will
go on believing that the first Scarab who
rolled his ball perhaps on the shore of some
lake in which the Palsotherium bathed, was
as innocent of front tarsi as his descendant
of to-day.

59

CHAPTER III

THE SACRED BEETLE: THE BALL

^ I ''HERE is no need to return to the
•*■ Sacred Beetle working in the daylight
or consuming his booty underground, either
alone, as usually happens, or in the com-
pany of a guest: what I have said about
this in a former chapter is enough; and
further observations would give no new in-
formation of special interest. There is only
one point which deserves attention. This
is the method of constructing the spherical
pellet, consisting merely of provisions which
the Beetle collects for his own use and con-
veys to an underground dining-room ex-
cavated at a convenient spot. My present
cages, which are much better-arranged than
those which I had at first, enable us to watch
the operation at our leisure; and this opera-
tion will furnish data which will be of the
greatest value later in explaining the myster-
ious structure of the nest. Let us then once
more watch the Sacred Beetle as he busies
himself with his victuals.
60

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

I supply fresh provisions, derived from
the Mule or, better, the Sheep. The scent
of the heap carries the news far and wide.
The Beetles hasten up from every direction,
extending and waving the reddish feathers
of their antennae, a sign of acute excitement.
Those who were dozing underground split
the sandy ceiling and sally forth from their
cellars. They are now all at the banquet,
not without quarrels among neighbours, who
fight for the best bits and knock one another
over with sudden back-handers from their
wide fore-legs. Things calm down; and,
without further disputes for the moment,
each gets all that he can out of the spot where
he happens to be.

The foundation of the structure is, as a
rule, a bit that is almost round of itself.
This is the kernel which, enlarged by success-
ive layers, will become the ultimate ball, the
size of an apricot. Having tested it and
found it suitable, the owner leaves it as it is;
or, at other times, he may clean it a httle,
scraping the outside, which is rough with
bits of sand. It is now a question of con-
structing the ball upon this foundation.
The tools are the six-toothed rake of the
semicircular shield and the broad shovels of
the fore-legs, which are likewise armed on
6i

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the outer edge with strong teeth, five in
number.

Without for a moment letting go of the
kernel, which is held in his four hind-legs,
more particularly those of the third, the
longest pair, the Beetle turns round slowly
from side to side on the top of his embryo
pellet and selects from the heap around
him the materials for increasing its size.
His sharp-edged forehead peels, cuts, digs
and rakes; his fore-legs work in unison,
gathering and drawing, up an armful which
is at once placed upon the central mass and
patted down. A few vigorous applications
of the toothed shovels press the new layer
into position. And so, with armful after
armful carefully added on top, beneath and
at the sides, the original pill grows into a big
ball.

While working, the builder never leaves
the dome of his edifice : he revolves on his
own axis, if he wants to give his attention
to any lateral part; to shape the lower
portion, he bends down to the point where it
touches the ground; but from beginning to
end the sphere never moves on its base and
the Beetle never relaxes his hold.

To obtain a perfectly round form, we need
the potter's wheel, whose rotation makes up
62

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

for our want of skill; to enlarge his snow-
ball and make it into the enormous sphere
which he will end by being unable to move,
the schoolboy rolls it in the snow : the rolling
gives it the regularity which the direct work
of the hands, guided by an inexperienced
eye, would not. More dexterous than we,
the Sacred Beetle can dispense with either
rolling or rotation; he moulds his ball by
means of superadded layers, without shift-
ing its place and without even descending for
an instant from the top of his dome to view
the whole structure from the requisite
distance. The compasses of his bow-legs, a
living pair of callipers which measure
and check the curve, are sufficient for his
purpose.

It is only with extreme caution, however,
that I introduce these callipers, as I am
perfectly convinced, by a host of facts, that
Instinct has no need of special tools. If
further proof were wanted, here it is. The
male Scarab's hind-legs are perceptibly
bowed; the female's, on the contrary, are
almost straight, though she is much the
cleverer and is able, as we shall see presently,
to produce masterpieces whose exquisite
form far surpasses that of a monotonous
sphere.

63

The Sacred Beetle and Others

If the curved compasses play but a
secondary part in the matter and perhaps no
part at all, what is the guiding principle of
this sphericity? If one merely took into
consideration the insect's organism and the
circumstances in which the work is done, I see
absolutely none. We must go back farther,
we must go back to the innate genius, the
instinct that guides the tool. The Scarab
has a natural gift for making spheres just
as the Hive-bee has a natural gift for making
hexagonal prisms. Both achieve geometri-
cal perfection in their work and are indepen-
dent of any special mechanism which would
force upon them the particular shape attained.

For the time being, keep this in mind: the
Sacred Beetle makes his ball by placing next
to each other armful after armful of the
materials which he has collected; he builds
it up without moving it, without turning it
round. He fashions the dung with the pre-
ssure of his fore-arms as the modeller in our
studios fashions his clay with the pressure of
his thumb. And the result is not an ap-
proximate sphere, with a lumpy surface; it
is a perfect sphere, with our human manu-
facturers would not disown.

The time has come for retiring with the
booty so that we may bury it farther away,
64

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

at no great depth, and consume it In peace.
The owner, therefore, draws his ball out of
the dung-yard; and, in accordance with
ancient usage, begins straightway to roll it
about on the ground, a little at random.
Any one who was not present at the be-
ginning and who now saw the ball rolling
along, with the insect pushing it backwards,
would naturally imagine that the round shape
resulted from this method of transport. It
rolls, therefore it becomes round, even as
a shapeless lump of clay would soon be-
come round if trundled in the same way.
Though apparently logical, the idea Is
erroneous in every respect: we have just
seen this perfect sphericity acquired before
the ball moved from the spot. The rolling
therefore has nothing to do with this
geometrical accuracy; it merely hardens the
surface Into a tough crust and polishes It a
little, if only by working Into the substance
of the pellet any coarse bits that might have
made it rough at the beginning. Between
the pill that has been rolled for hours and
the pill that is stationary In the dung-yard
there is no difference in configuration.

What is the advantage of this particular
shape, which Is invariably adopted at the
very outset of the work? Does the Scarab
65

The Sacred Beetle and Others

derive any benefit from the circular form?
Your spectacles would have to be made of
walnut-shells if you failed to see that the
insect is brilliantly inspired when it kneads
its cake into a ball. These victuals, the
meagrest of meagre pittances from the point
of view of nourishment, for the Sheep's
fourfold stomach has already extracted
pretty nearly all the assimilable matter, have
to make up in quantity for what they lack in
quality.

It is the same with various other Dung-
beetles. They are all insatiable gluttons;
they all need a much larger amount of food
than their modest dimensions would lead us
to suspect. The Spanish Copris, no bigger
than a good-sized hazel-nut, accumulates
underground, for a single meal, a pie as big
as my fist; the Stercoraceous Geotrupes
hoards in his hole a sausage nine inches long
and as wide as the neck of a claret-bottle.

These mighty eaters have an easy time of
It. They establish themselves immediately
under the heap dropped by some standing
Mule. Here they dig passages and dining-
rooms. The provisions are at the door of
the house; they form a roof for It. All that
you have to do is to bring them in, armful by
armful, taking only as much as you can carry
66

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

comfortably, for you can go on fetching
more as long as you like. In this way,
scandalous quantities of food are un-
obtrusively stored away in peaceful manors
whose presence no outward sign betrays.

The Sacred Beetle is not so fortunate as
to have his cottage underneath the heap
where the victuals are collected. He is of
a vagabond temperament; and, when his
work is over, he has no great inclination for
the company of those arrant thieves, his
kinsmen. He has therefore to travel to a
distance with what he has secured, in quest
of a site where he can establish himself alone.
His stock of provisions, it is true, is com-
paratively modest: it is not to be mentioned
in the same breath as the enormous cakes of
the Copris or the Geotrupes' fat sausages.
No matter: modest though it be, its weight
and bulk are too much for the strength of
any Beetle that might think of carrying it
direct. It is too heavy, ever so much too
heavy, for him to take between his legs and
fly with, nor could he possibly drag it, gripped
in his mandibles.

If the hermit, eager to withdraw from the

world, wished to make use of direct means

of conveyance, there would be only one

method by which he could accumulate in his

67

The Sacred Beetle and Others

far-off cell food enough for even a single
day: that would be to carry load after load
on the wing, each load being proportionate
to his strength. But what a number of
journeys that would involve ! What a lot
of time would be wasted in this piecemeal
harvesting! Besides, when he went back,
would he not find the table already cleared?
Think of the number of guests who were
giving it their attention ! The opportunity
is a good one; it may not occur again for a
long while. We must make the most of
it without delay; the thing to do is to secure
enough now to stock our larder for at least
a day.

But how to set about it? Nothing could
be simpler. What we cannot carry we
drag; what we cannot drag we cart by
rolling It along, as witness all our wheeled
conveyances. The Sacred Beetle therefore
chooses the sphere as a means of transport.
It Is the best shape of all for rolling; it needs
no axle-tree ; It adapts Itself admirably to the
diverse Inequalities of the ground and, at each
point of Its surface, provides the necessary
leverage for the least expenditure of effort.
Such Is the mechanical problem which the
pill-roller solves. The spherical form of his
treasure Is not the effect of the rolling: It
68

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

precedes It; it is modelled precisely with a
view to that method of conveyance, which is
to make the carriage of the heavy load
feasible.

The Sacred Beetle is a passionate lover
of the sun, whose image he copies in the
radiating notches of his rounded shield. He
needs the bright light in order to make the
most of the heap whence he extracts first
provisions and next materials for nest-buil-
ding. The other Dung-beetles — Geotrupes,
Copres, Onltes, Onthophagi — for the most
part have dark, mysterious habits; they work
unseen under the roof of excrement; they do,
not begin their quest until night is at hand
and the last glimmer of twilight is fading.
The more trustful Scarab both seeks and finds
amid the gladness of the noonday sun; he
works his bit of ground quite openly and
reaps his harvest in the hottest and brightest
hours of the day. His ebon breastplate is
glittering on top of the heap at times when
there Is naught to indicate the presence of
numerous fellow-workers, belonging to other
genera, who are busy underneath, carving
themselves their share of the lower strata.
Darkness for others, but for him the light!

This love of the unscreened sun has Its
blissful side, as the insect, drunk with heat,
69

The Sacred Beetle and Others

shows from time to time by exultant
transports; but it has also certain dis-
advantages. I have never witnessed any
quarrel at harvest-time between next-door
neighbours, when these were Copres or
Geotrupes. Working in the dark, each is
ignorant of what is happening beside him.
The rich morsel secured by one of them
cannot arouse the envy of his neighbours,
since it is not perceived. This perhaps
explains the pacific relations among Dung-
beetles who work in the gloomy depths of
the heap.

My suspicions are not unfounded. Rob-
bery, the execrable right of the strongest, is
not the exclusive prerogative of the human
brute: animals also practise it; and the
Sacred Beetle is a notorious offender. As
the work is done in the open, every one
knows or is able to find out what his
companions are doing. They are mutually
envious of each other's pills; and scuffles take
place between proprietors wishing to leave
the yard and plunderers who find it more
convenient to rob their fellows than to set
to work and knead loaves for themselves.
On guard on the top of his treasure, the
owner of a ball will face his assailant, who
is trying to climb up, and push him into
70

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

space with a stroke from his stout fore-
arms. The thief is flung on his back and
flounders about for a moment, but he is soon
up and back again. The struggle is re-
newed. Right does not always win, in which
case the robber makes off with his prize and
the victim returns to the heap to make him-
self another pill. It is not unusual for a
third thief to appear upon the scene during
the fight and settle matters between the
litigants by carrying off the property at issue.
I am inclined to think that it was affrays
of this sort that gave rise to the childish story
of the Sacred Beetles who were called to the
rescue and came to lend a hand to their
brothers in distress. Brazen foot-pads were
taken for kindly helpers.

The Sacred Beetle then is an inveterate
thief; he shares the tastes of the Bedouin
Arab, his fellow-countryman in Africa; he
too is addicted to raiding. In his case,
hunger and dearth, both evil counsellors,
cannot be invoked as an explanation of this
moral obliquity. Provisions are plentiful
in my cages; certainly, in their days of
liberty, my captives never lived in the midst
of such abundance; and yet affrays are of
frequent occurrence. They fight hotly-
contested battles for the loaves, just as
71

The Sacred Beetle and Others

though bread were lacking. Poverty has
nothing to do with it, for very often the thief
abandons his booty after rolling it for a few
seconds. They steal for the pleasure of
steahng. As La Fontaine ^ well says, there is

. . . double profit a faire:
Son bien premierement; et puis le mal
d'autrui.^

In view of this propensity for thieving,
what is the best thing that a Scarab can do
when he has conscientiously made his ball?
Obviously, to shun his fellows, to leave the
premises and get away to a distant spot
where he can consume his provisions in the
depths of some hiding-place. This is what
he does; and he loses no time in doing it: he
knows his kinsmen too well.

Here we see the necessity for an easy
method of conveyance, so that sufficient
provisions may be carted in a single journey
and as swiftly as possible. The Sacred
Beetle likes working in the bright light, in
the sunshine. His profits therefore, made
in full view of everybody, are no secret to

1 Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695), author of the famous
Fables. — Translator's Note.

^". . . a double chance of gain:
First, one's own profit; next, another's loss."
72

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

any of the workers who have hurried to the
same heap. Thus is envy kindled; thus it
becomes imperative to retire to a distance,
to avoid being robbed. This speedy retreat
demands a convenient means of transport;
and that is obtained by the spherical form
given to the materials collected.

Here is the conclusion, unexpected but
very logical and I would even say obvious:
the Sacred Beetle shapes his provisions into
a ball because he is an ardent lover of the
sun. The various Dung-beetles who work
in broad daylight, the Gymnopleuri and
Sisyphi of my district, conform to the same
mechanical principle: they all know the
advantages of a sphere, the best rolling-
apparatus; they all practise the art of pill-
making. The other Dung-beetles, who
work in the dark, do nothing of the kind:
their accumulations of food are shapeless.

Life in the vivarium supplies us with some
other facts which are not undeserving of the
commentator's attention. We have said
that, when fresh provisions are supplied, the
Sacred Beetles who are roaming about come
running up eagerly to the smoking fare.
The rich effluvia also speedily attract those
who are slumbering In their burrows. Little
mounds of sand pop up here and there, crack-
73

The Sacred Beetle and Others

ing as though for an eruption, and we see
new guests emerge, wiping the dust from
their eyes with the flat of their feet.
Neither their dozing in that underground
room nor the thick roof of their dwelHng
has succeeded in foihng their keenness of
scent: those who have had to unearth them-
selves reach the lump almost as quickly as the
others.

These details remind us of certain facts
noted, not without surprise, by a host of
observers on the sunny beaches at Cette,
Palavas, the Golfe Juan and the North
African coast, down to the Sahara Desert.
Here the Sacred Beetle and his kinsmen —
the Half-spotted Scarab, the Pock-marked
Scarab and others — swarm, becoming more
vigorous and more active in proportion as the
climate grows hotter. They abound; and
yet very often not one shows himself; the
entomologist's practised eye fails to discover
a single specimen.

But now see things change. Seized with
an urgent physiological need, you leave your
party unobtrusively and retire behind the
bushes. You have hardly stood up, hardly
begun to adjust your dress, when — whoosh I
— here comes one, here come three, here
come ten, appearing suddenly you know not
74

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

whence, and swoop upon the provender.
Have they hastened from afar, these bustling
scavengers? Certainly not. Had they
been apprised at a great distance by their
sense of smell, which is not in itself im-
possible, they would not have had time to
reach the quite recent windfall so promptly.
It follows, therefore, that they were close by,
within a radius of ten or twenty yards,
hidden underground and dozing. A scent
that is ever awake, even in the lethargy
of sleep, told them, down in their burrows,
of the happy event; and, splitting their
ceiHngs, they hurry up forthwith. In less
time than the incident takes to relate, a
swarming population enlivens what was but
now a desert.

A keen and vigilant scent is the Beetle's,
we must admit; a scent which is always in
operation. The Dog smells the truffle
through the soil, but he Is awake; the pill-
roller smells his favourite fare through the
ground in the opposite direction, but he is
asleep. Which of the two has the subtler
scent?

Science flings wide her net, welcoming
even filth; and truth soars at heights where
nothing can soil her. The reader will there-
fore be good enough to excuse certain de-

75

The Sacred Beetle and Others

tails which cannot be avoided in a history
of the Dung-beetle; he will show some in-
dulgence for what has gone before and what
will follow. The revolting workshop of the
insect that manipulates ordure will lead per-
haps to loftier Ideas than would the per-
fumer's factory with its jasmine and
patchouli.

I have accused the Sacred Beetle of being
an Insatiable gormandizer. It is time to
prove what I said. In my cages, which are
too small to allow of much pill-rolling, my
boarders often scorn to accumulate provi-
sions and confine themselves to eating where
they are. It is a good opportunity for us:
the meal taken in public will tell us better
than the underground banquet what a Dung-
beetle's stomach can do.

One very still, sultry day — the at-
mospheric conditions most favourable to the
gastronomic joys of my anchorites — I
observe one of the diners in the open air,
from eight o'clock in the morning until eight
o'clock at night. Watch in hand, I time the
glutton. He appears to have come across
a morsel greatly to his taste, for, during
those twelve hours, he never stops feasting,
but remains glued to the table, absolutely
stationary. At eight o'clock in the evening,
7^

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

I pay him a last visit. His appetite seems
undiminished; I find him in as fine fettle as
at the start. The banquet then must have
gone on some time longer, until the dish had
disappeared entirely. In fact, next morning
there was no sign of my Beetle; and, of the
sumptuous repast begun on the previous day,
naught remained but crumbs.

To eat the clock round is no small feat of
gluttony; but in this case there is also a
much more remarkable feat of digestion.
While matter is continuously being chewed
and swallowed by the insect in front, it is
reappearing, no less continuously, behind,
deprived of its nutritive particles and spun
into a thin black cord, similar to cob-
bler's thread. The Scarab never evacu-
ates except at table, so quickly are his
digestive operations performed. The wire-
drawing apparatus begins to work at the
first few mouthfuls; it ceases soon after the
last. Without a break from beginning to
end of the meal, the slender cord, ever
appended to the discharging orifice, goes on
piling itself into a heap which can easily be
unrolled so long as there is no sign of
desiccation.

The working is as regular as that of a
chronometer. Every minute, or rather, to
17

The Sacred Beetle and Others

be exact, every four-and-fifty seconds, a dis-
charge takes place and the thread is length-
ened by three to four millimetres.^ At long
intervals, I employ my tweezers, remove the
cord and unroll the mass along a graduated
rule, in order to measure the amount pro-
duced. The total for twelve hours is 2.88
metres.^ As the meal and its necessary
complement, the work of the digestive
apparatus, went on for some time longer
after my last visit, paid at eight o'clock in
the evening by lantern-light, my Beetle must
have spun an unbroken stercoraceous cord
well over three yards in length.

Given the diameter and the length of the
thread, it is easy to calculate its volume.
Nor is it difficult to arrive at the exact
volume of the insect by measuring the
quantity of water which it displaces when
immersed in a narrow cylinder. The
figures thus obtained are not devoid of
interest: they tell us that, at a single eating
bout. In a dozen hours, the Sacred Beetle
digests very nearly his own bulk in food.
What a stomach! And, above all, what
rapidity, what power of digestion! From
the very first mouthfuls, the residuum forms

i.ii to .15 inches. — Translator's Note.
2 Close upon 9^/^ feet. — Translator's Note.
78

The Sacred Beetle: the Ball

itself into a thread that stretches and
stretches indefinitely as long as the meal
lasts. In that amazing laboratory, which
perhaps never puts up its shutters, unless
it be when victuals are lacking, the material
merely passes through, is at once treated by
the stomach's reagents and at once ex-
pended. One may well believe that an ap-
paratus which sanifies filth so quickly has
some part to play in the public health. We
shall have occasion to return to this important
subject.

79

CHAPTER IV

THE SACRED BEETLE: THE PEAR

THE young shepherd who had been told
In his spare time to watch the doings
of the Sacred Beetle came to me in high
spirits, one Sunday In the latter part of June,
to say that he thought the time had come to
begin our investigations. He had detected
the Insect Issuing from the ground, had dug
at the spot where it made its appearance and
had found, at no great depth, the queer thing
which he was bringing me.

Queer It was and calculated to upset the
little that I thought I knew. In shape, it
was exactly like a tiny pear that had lost
all its fresh colour and turned brown in
rotting. What could this curious object be,
this pretty plaything that seemed to have
come from a turner's workshop? Was it
made by human hands? Was it a model of
the fruit of the pear-tree intended for some
children's museum? One would say so.

The little ones group themselves round
me ; they look at the treasure-trove with long-
80

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

ing eyes; they would Hke to add it to the
contents of their toy-box. It is much
prettier in shape than an agate marble, much
more graceful than an ivory egg or a box-
wood top. The material, it is true, seems
none too nicely-chosen; but it is firm to the
touch and very artistically curved. In any
case, the little pear discovered underground
must not go to swell the nursery collection
until we have found out more about it.

Can it really be the Sacred Beetle's work?
Is there an egg inside it, a grub? The
shepherd assures me that there is. A
similar pear, crushed by accident in the
digging, contained, he says, a white egg, the
size of a grain of wheat. I dare not believe
it, so greatly does the object which he has
brought me differ from the ball which I
expected to see.

To open the mysterious prize and ascertain
its contents would perhaps be imprudent:
such an act of violence might jeopardize the
life of the germ within, always provided
that the Scarab's egg be there, a matter of
which the shepherd seems convinced.
Besides, I say to myself, the pear-shape, so
totally opposed to all our accepted ideas, is
probably accidental. Who knows if luck
will ever give me anything like it again? I
8i

The Sacred Beetle and Others

should be wise to keep the thing just as it is
and await events; above all, I should be wise
to go and seek for information on the spot.

The shepherd was at his post by daybreak
the next morning. I joined him on some
slopes that had been lately cleared of their
trees, where the hot summer sun, which
strikes with such force on the back of one's
neck, could not reach us for two or three
hours. In the cool morning air, with the
Sheep browsing under Sultan's care, the two
of us started on our search.

A Sacred Beetle's burrow is soon found:
you can tell it by the fresh little mound of
earth above it. With a vigorous turn of
the wrist, my companion digs away with the
httle pocket-trowel which I have lent him.
Incorrigible earth-scraper that I am, I
seldom set forth without this light but
serviceable tool. While he digs, I he down,
the better to see the arrangement and
furniture of the cellar which we are unearth-
ing, and I am all eyes. The shepherd uses
the trowel as a lever and, with his other
hand, holds back and pushes aside the soil.

Here we are! A cave opens out and,

in the moist warmth of the yawning vault,

I see a splendid pear lying full-length upon

the ground. No, I shall not soon forget

82

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

this first revelation of the Scarab's maternal
masterpiece. My excitement could have
been no greater had I been an archaeologist
digging among the ancient relics of Egypt
and lighting upon the sacred insect of the
dead, carved in emerald, in some Pharaonic
crypt. O ineffable moment, when truth
suddenly shines forth! What other joys
can compare with that holy rapture ! The
shepherd was in the seventh heaven; he
laughed in response to my smile and was
happy in my gladness.

Luck does not repeat itself: '* Non bis
in idem," says the old adage. And here
have I twice had under my eyes this curious
pear-shape. Is it by any chance the normal
shape, not subject to exception? Must we
abandon the thought of a sphere similar to
those which the insect rolls along the
ground? Let us continue and we shall see.

A second hole is found. Like the previous
one, it contains a pear. My two treasures
are as hke as two peas; they might have
issued from the same mould. And here is
a valuable confirmatory detail: in the second
burrow, by the side of the pear and fondly
embracing it, is the mother Beetle, engaged
no doubt in giving it the finishing touches
before leaving the underground cave for
83

The Sacred Beetle and Others

good. All doubts are dispelled: I know the
worker and I know the work.

The rest of the morning provided
abundant corroboration of these premisses:
before an intolerable sun drove me from the
slope which I was exploring, I was in
possession of a dozen pears identical in shape
and almost in dimensions. On several oc-
casions, the mother was present in the work-
shop.

To conclude this part of our subject, let
me tell what the future held in store for me.
All through the dog-days, from the end of
June until September, I paid almost daily
visits to the spots frequented by the Sacred
Beetle; and the burrows unearthed by my
trowel furnished an amount of evidence
exceeding my fondest hopes. The insects
reared in captivity supplied me with more
facts, though these, it is true, were very
scanty in comparison with the rich crop from
the open fields. All told, about a hundred
nests, at the lowest computation, passed
through my hands; and they were invariably
the graceful pear-shape, never, absolutely
never, the round shape of the pill, never the
ball of which the books tell us.

I myself once shared this error, placing
as I did impHcit confidence in the words of
84

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

the learned authorities. My old hunting-
expeditions on the Plateau des Angles led to
no result; my attempts at home rearing
failed pitifully; and yet I was anxious to give
my young readers some idea of the nest
built by the Sacred Beetle. I therefore
adopted the traditional theory of the round
shape; and then, taking analogy for my
guide, I made use of the little that I had
learnt from other dung-rollers to attempt an
approximate sketch of the Sacred Beetle's
work. It was an unlucky shot. Analogy
no doubt is a valuable servant, but oh, how
poor compared with direct observation!
Deceived by this guide, so often untrust-
worthy amid the inexhaustible variety of life,
I helped to perpetuate the blunder; and so
I hasten to apologize, begging the reader
to dismiss from his mind the little that I
have said heretofore on the probable nest-
building methods of the Sacred Beetle.

And now let us unfold the authentic story,
admitting as evidence only facts actually
observed again and again. The Sacred
Beetle's nest Is betrayed on the outside by a
little heap of earth, by a tiny mound formed
of the superfluous soil which the mother,
when closing up the abode, has been unable
to replace, part of the excavation having to
8s

The Sacred Beetle and Others

be left empty. Under this mound is a shaft
which is rarely more than four inches in
depth, followed by a horizontal gallery,
either straight or winding, which ends in a
spacious hall, large enough to contain a
man's fist. This is the crypt in which the
egg hes enveloped in food and subjected to
the incubation of a hot sun baking the ground
only a few inches above it; this is the roomy
workshop in which the mother, unfettered
in her movements, has kneaded and shaped
the future nurseling's food into a pear.

This stercoraceous bread has its main axis
lying in a horizontal position. Its shape
and size remind one exactly of those little
Midsummer's Day pears which, by virtue of
their bright colouring, their flavour and their
early ripening, are so popular with the
children. There is a shght variation in the
bulk of the pears found. The largest
dimensions are 45 millimetres in length by
30 miUimetres in width; ^ the smallest are
35 millimetres by 28.^

Without being as polished as stucco, the
surface, which is absolutely even, is carefully
glazed with a thin layer of red earth. At
first soft as potter's clay, the pyriform loaf

1 1.75 X 1. 17 inches. — Translator's Note.
2 1.36x1.09 inches. — Translator's Note.
86

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

soon dries and acquires a stout crust which
refuses to yield to the pressure of the
fingers. Wood itself is no harder. This
rind is the defensive wrapper that isolates
the recluse from the world and allows him
to consume his victuals in profound peace.
But, should the central mass become dried
up, then the danger Is extremely serious.
We shall have occasion to refer to the un-
happy lot of the grub condemned to a diet
of too-stale bread.

What dough does the Scarab's bakehouse
use? Who are the purveyors? The Horse
and the Mule? By no means. Yet that
was what I expected — and so would any-
body — after seeing the insect make such
energetic raids, for its own use, upon the
overflowing store of an ordinary lump of
dung. That is where it habitually manu-
factures the rolling ball which it goes and
consumes in som.e underground retreat.

While coarse bread, full of bits of hay,
Is good enough for the mother, she becomes
more particular where her children are con-
cerned. She now wants the very daintiest
pastry, rich in nourishment and easily
digested; she wants the ovine manna: not
that which the Sheep of a costive habit
scatters in trails of black olives, but that
87

The Sacred Beetle and Others

which, elaborated in a less dry intestine, is
fashioned into a single flat cake. This is
the material required, the dough exclusively
used. It is no longer the poor and stringy
produce of the Horse, but an unctuous,
plastic, homogeneous thing, soaked through
and through with nutritive juices. Its
plasticity and delicacy make it an admirable
medium for an artistic piece of work like
the Scarab's pear, while its alimentary
qualities suit the weak stomach of the new-
born grub. There may not be much of it,
but the infant Beetle will find it sufficient for
his needs.

This explains the smallness of these pears,
a point which made me suspicious of the
origin of my treasure until I found the
mother present with the provisions. I was
unable to see in those little pears the bill of
fare of a future Sacred Beetle, who Is so
great a glutton and of so remarkable a
size.

It probably also explains my failure In the
old days with my cages. In my profound
ignorance of the Sacred Beetle's domestic
life, I used to supply her with what I could
pick up here and there, droppings of Horse
or Mule; and the Beetle refused It for her
children and declined to build a nest. To-

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

day, taught by my experience In the fields, I
go to the Sheep for my supplies and all Is
well In the cages. Does this mean that the
Insect never employs for its breeding-pears
materials derived from the Horse, even if
selected from the finest strata and carefully
cleansed from objectionable matter? If the
best cannot be obtained. Is the middling
refused? I prefer to be cautious and give
no opinion. What I can declare Is that I
Inspected over a hundred burrows with a
view to writing this story and that In every
case, from first to last, the larva's provisions
had been obtained from the Sheep.

Where is the egg In that nutritive mass
so novel in shape? One would be Inclined
to place it in the centre of the fat, round
paunch. This central point Is best-protected
against accidents from the outside, best-off
In the matter of temperature. Besides, the
nascent grub would here find a deep layer
of food on every side of It and would not be
liable to make mistakes In the first mouthfuls.
Everything being of the same kind all round
It, there would be no necessity for It to pick
and choose; wherever It chanced to apply Its
prentice tooth, It could continue without
hesitation its first dainty repast.

All this seemed so very reasonable that
89

The Sacred Beetle and Others

I allowed myself to be led away by it. In
the first pear that I examined, layer by layer,
shaving off slices with my penknife, I looked
for the egg in the centre of the paunch,
feeling almost certain of finding it there.
To my great surprise. It was not there.
Instead of being hollow, the centre of the
pear Is full and consists of one continuous,
uniform alimentary mass.

My deductions, which any observer in my
place would certainly have shared, seemed
very reasonable; the Scarab, however, is of
another way of thinking. We have our
logic, of which we are rather proud; the
dung-kneader has hers, which is better than
ours in this Instance. She has her own fore-
sight, takes her own precautions; and she
places the egg elsewhere.

But where? Why, In the narrow part of
the pear, in the neck, right at the end ! Let
us cut this neck lengthwise, taking the
necessary precautions not to damage the
contents. It is hollowed Into a niche with
polished and shiny walls. This niche is the
tabernacle of the germ, the hatching-
chamber. The egg, which Is very large in
proportion to the size of the mother, is an
elongated oval, about ten millimetres in
length with a diameter of five millimetres at
90

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

the widest part.^ It is white and is
separated on all sides from the walls of the
chamber by a slight empty space, the only
contact being at the rear end of the egg,
which adheres to the top of the niche.
Lying horizontally, in conformity with the
normal position of the pear, the whole of it,
excepting the point of attachment, thus rests
upon an alr-mattress, warmest and most
buoyant of beds.

Now we know all about it. Let us next
try to understand the Scarab's logic. Let us
find out why she has to make that pear of
hers, so unusual a shape in insect structures;
let us seek to explain the suitability of the
egg's curious position. We are venturing
on dangerous ground when we enquire into
the how and wherefore of things. We
easily lose our footing in that mysterious
land where the moving soil gives way
beneath us, swallowing the foolhardy in the
quicksands of error. Must we abandon
such excursions, because of the risk? Why
should we?

What does our science, so sublime
compared with the feebleness of our re-
sources, so contemptible In the face of the
boundless stretches of the unknown, what

1.39X.19 inches. — Translator's Note.
91

The Sacred Beetle and Others

does it know of absolute reality? Nothing.
The world interests us only because of the
ideas which we form of it. Remove the
idea and everything becomes a desert, chaos,
nothingness. An omnium-gatherum of facts
is not knowledge, but at most a cold
catalogue which we must thaw and quicken
at the fire of the mind; we must bring to it
thought and the light of reason; we must
interpret.

Let us adopt this course to explain the
work of the Sacred Beetle. Perhaps we
shall end by attributing our own logic to the
insect. After all, it will be just as remark-
able to see a wonderful agreement prevail
between that which reason dictates to us and
that which instinct dictates to the insect.

A grave danger threatens the Sacred Beetle
in his grub state : the drying-up of the food.
The crypt in which the larval life is spent
has a layer of earth, some four inches thick,
for a ceiling. Of what avail is this flimsy
screen against the torrid heat that beats
down upon the soil, baking it like a brick
to a far greater depth than that? At times
the temperature of the grub's abode mounts
towards boiling-point; when I thrust my
hand into it, I feel the hot air of a Turkish
bath.

92

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

The provisions, therefore, even though
they have to last but three or four weeks,
are liable to dry up before that time and
to become uneatable. When, instead of the
soft bread of its first meal, the unhappy grub
finds nothing to stay its stomach but a
horrible crust, hard as a pebble and tooth-
proof, it is bound to perish of hunger. And
it does actually so perish. I have found
numbers of these victims of the August sun
which, after eating plentifully of the fresh
food and digging themselves a cell in it, had
succumbed, unable to continue biting into
provisions that had become too hard.
There remained a thick shell, a sort of closed
oven, in which the poor thing lay baked and
shrivelled up.

While the grub dies of hunger in a shell
which has dried into stone, the full-grown
insect that has completed its transformations
dies there too, for it is incapable of bursting
the prison and freeing itself. I shall come
back later to the question of the final
emergence and will say no more about it
for the present. Let us confine our attention
to the troubles of the grub.

The drying-up of the victuals is, I have
said, fatal to it. This is proved by the
larvae found baked in their oven; it is also

93

The Sacred Beetle and Others

proved, in a more definite fashion, by the
following experiment. In July, the period
of active nidification, I place in wooden or
cardboard boxes a dozen pears unearthed
that morning from their native burrows.
These boxes, carefully closed, are put away
In the dark, in my study, where the same
temperature prevails as outside. Well, in
none of them is the infant reared: sometimes
the egg shrivels; sometimes the worm is
hatched, but very soon dies. On the other
hand, in tin boxes or glass receptacles, every-
thing goes well: not one attempt at rearing
fails.

Whence do these differences arise?
Simply from this : in the high temperature
of July, evaporation proceeds apace under
the permeable wooden or cardboard screen;
the food-pear dries up; and the unfortunate
worm dies of hunger. In the impermeable
tin boxes, in the carefully-sealed glass
receptacles, evaporation does not take place;
the provisions retain their softness; and the
grubs thrive as well as In their native
burrow.

The insect employs two methods to ward

off the danger of desiccation. In the first

place, it compresses the outer layer with all

the strength of Its stout, flat fore-arms,

94

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

turning it into a protective rind more
homogeneous and more compact than the
central mass. If I break one of these
dried-up provision-boxes, the rind usually
comes clean away, leaving the centre part
bare. The whole suggests the shell and
kernel of a nut. The pressure exercised
by the mother when manipulating her pear
has affected the surface layer to a depth
of a few millimetres and this has produced
the rind; the influence of the pressure is not
felt lower down and the result is the big
central kernel. In the hot summer months,
the housewife puts her bread into a closed
pan, to keep it fresh. This is what the
insect does, in its fashion: by dint of com-
pression, it covers the family bread with a
pan.

The Sacred Beetle does not stop there:
she becomes a geometrician capable of
solving a delicate problem of minimum
values. Other conditions being equal, eva-
poration obviously takes place in propor-
tion to the extent of the evaporating sur-
face. The alimentary mass must therefore
be given the smallest possible surface,
in order to reduce the waste of moisture as
much as possible; at the same time, this
minimum surface must incorporate the
95

The Sacred Beetle and Others

maximum aggregate of nutritive materials,
so that the grub may find sufficient nourish-
ment. Now what is the form that encloses
the greatest bulk within the smallest super-
ficial area? Geometry answers, the sphere.

The Scarab, therefore, shapes the larva's
ration into a sphere (we will leave the neck
of the pear out of the question for the
moment) ; and this round form is not the
result of blind mechanical conditions, im-
posing an inevitable shape upon the worker;
it is not the violent effect of the roll-
ing along the ground. We have already
seen that, for the purpose of easier and
swifter transit, the insect kneads into a
perfect sphere the materials which it intends
to consume at a distance, without moving
that sphere from the spot on which it rests;
in short, we have realized that the round
form precedes the rolling.

In the same way, it will be seen presently
that the pear destined for the grub is
fashioned in the burrow. It undergoes no
rolling-process, it Is not even moved. The
Sacred Beetle gives it the requisite outline
exactly as a modelling artist might do,
shaping his clay under the pressure of his
thumb.

With the tools which it possesses, the
96

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

insect could obtain other forms of a less
delicate curve than its pear-shaped piece of
work. It could, for instance, make a rough
cylinder, the sausage which is customary
among the Geotrupes; simplifying the work
to the utmost, it could leave the lump with-
out any definite form, just as it happened to
find it. Things would proceed all the faster
and would leave more time for playing In
the sun. But no: the Sacred Beetle never
chooses any shape but the sphere, though
it necessitates such scrupulous accuracy; she
acts as though she knew the laws of evapora-
tion and geometry from beginning to end.

It remains for us to examine the neck of
the pear. What can be its object, its use?
The reply forces itself upon us irresistibly.
This neck contains the egg, in the hatching-
chamber. Now every germ, whether of
plant or animal, needs air, the primary
stimulus of life. To admit that vivifying
combustible, the shell of a bird's egg is
riddled with an endless number of pores.
The pear of the Sacred Beetle may be
compared with the Hen's egg. Its shell is
the rind, hardened by pressure, with a view
to avoiding untimely desiccation; its nutri-
tive mass, its meat, its yolk is the soft ball
sheltered under the rind; its air-chamber Is
97

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the terminal space, the cavity in the neck,
where the air envelops the germ on every
side. Where would that germ be better off,
for breathing, than in its hatching-chamber
projecting into the atmosphere and giving
free play to the passage of gases through
its thin and easily permeable wall?

In the centre of the mass, on the other
hand, aeration is not so easy. The hardened
rind does not possess pores like an eggshell's;
and the central kernel is formed of compact
matter. The air enters it nevertheless, for
presently the grub will be able to live in it:
the grub, a robust organism which does not
need the same tender nursing as the first
flutter of life in the sensitive germ.

Where the adolescent larva thrives, the
egg would die of suffocation. Here is a
proof of iti I take a small, wide-necked
phial and fill it with Sheep-dung, the fare
required in this case. I push in a bit of stick
and obtain a shaft which shall represent the
hatching-chamber. Down this shaft I place
an egg carefully moved from its cell. I
close the orifice and cover up everything with
a thickly-heaped layer of the same material.
Here, in all excepting the shape, we have
an artificial reproduction of the Sacred
Beetle's pellet; only, in this Instance, the egg

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

is in the centre of the mass, the place which
over-hasty considerations made us but now
believe the most suitable. Well, the point
which we selected is fatal to life. The egg
dies there. What has it lacked? Ap-
parently, proper aeration.

Plenteously enveloped by the clammy
mass, which is a bad conductor of heat, it is
also deprived of the mild temperature
needed for its hatching. In addition to air,
every germ requires heat. In order to be
as near as possible to the incubator, the germ
in the bird's egg is on the surface of the
yolk and, thanks to its extreme mobility,
always comes to the top, no matter what the
position of the egg may be. Thus the most
is made of the maternal heating-apparatus
seated upon the brood.

In the insect's case, the incubator is the
earth, which is warmed by the sun. Its
germ likewise comes close to the heating-
apparatus; it goes as near as it can to the
universal incubator, in search of its spark of
life; instead of remaining sunk in the middle
of the inert mass, it takes up its position at
the top of a projecting nipple, lapped on all
sides by the warm emanations of the soil.

These conditions, air and warmth, are so
fundamental that no Dung-beetle neglects

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The Sacred Beetle and Others

them. The piles of food hoarded vary In
form, as we shall have an opportunity of
seeing: in addition to the pear, such shapes
as the cyhnder, the ovoid, the pill and the
thimble are adopted, according to the genus
of the manipulator; but, amid this diversity
of outline, one primary feature remains un-
changed and that is the placing of the egg in
a hatching-chamber close to the surface
which allows free access to air and heat.
And the most gifted in this delicate art of
knowing just where to place the egg is the
Sacred Beetle with her pear.

I was saying just now that this foremost
of dung-kneaders behaved with a logic that
rivals our own. By this time, my statement
has been completely established. Nay,
better still. Let us submit the following
problem to our leading scientific lights. A
germ is accompanied by a mass of victuals
liable soon to be rendered useless by desicca-
tion. How should the alimentary mass be
shaped? Where should the egg be laid so
as to be easily influenced by air and heat?

The first question of the problem has
already been answered. Knowing that
evaporation varies In proportion to the
extent of the evaporating surface, science
declares that the victuals shall be arranged

100

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

in the form of a ball, because the spherical
shape is that which encloses the greatest
amount of material within the smallest
surface. As for the egg, since it requires a
protecting sheath to keep it from any harm-
ful contact, it shall be contained within a
thin, cylindrical case; and this case shall be
iixed upon the sphere.

Thus the requisite conditions are fulfilled:
the provisions, packed into a ball, keep fresh;
the egg, protected by its slender, cylindrical
sheath, receives the influence of warmth and
air without impediment. The strictly need-
ful has been obtained; but it is very ugly.
Utility has paid no attention to beauty.

An artist corrects the crude work of
reason. He replaces the cylinder by a
semiellipsoid, so much prettier in form; he
joins this elhpsoid to the sphere by means of
a graceful curved surface; and the whole
becomes the pear, the necked gourd. It is
now a work of art, a thing of beauty.

The Sacred Beetle does exactly what
aesthetic considerations dictate to ourselves.
Can she, too, have a sense of beauty? Is
she able to appreciate the elegance of her
pear? True, she does not see it: she
manipulates it in profound darkness. But
she touches it. A poor touch hers, roughly

lOI

The Sacred Beetle and Others

clad in horn, yet not insensible, after all, to
delicate contours.

It occurred to me to put children's in-
telligence to the test with this problem in
aesthetics suggested by the Sacred Beetle's
work. I wanted very immature minds,
hardly opened, still slumbering in the
misty clouds of early childhood, in short,
approximating as nearly as possible to the
vague intellect of the insect, if any such
approximation is permissible. At the same
time I wanted them to be clear-headed
enough to understand me. I selected some
untutored youngsters of whom the oldest
was six.

I submitted to this tribunal the work of
the Sacred Beetle and a geometrical produc-
tion of my own fingers, representing in the
same dimensions the sphere surmounted by
a short cylinder. Taking each of them
aside, as though for confession, lest the
opinion of one should influence the opinion
of another, I sprang my two toys upon them
and asked them which they thought the
prettier. There were five of them; and they
all voted for the Sacred Beetle's pear.

I was stuck by this unanimity. The rough
little peasant-lad, who has scarcely yet learnt
how to blow his nose, has already a certain

102

The Sacred Beetle: the Pear

sense of elegance of form. He can dis-
tinguish between the beautiful and the ugly.
Can this be also true of the Sacred Beetle?
No one who knew what he was talking about
would venture to say yes; no one either
would venture to say no. It is a question
that cannot be answered, since we cannot
consult the one and only judge in this case.
After all, the solution might very well be
exceedingly simple. What does the flower
know of its glorious corolla? What does
the snowflake know of its exquisite hexagonal
stars? Like the flower and the snowflake,
the Sacred Beetle might well be ignorant of
the beautiful, though it be her work.

There is beauty everywhere, on the
express condition that there be an eye
capable of recognizing it. Is this eye of the
mind, this eye which appraises correctness of
form, to some extent an attribute of the
dumb creation? If the ideal of beauty to
the Toad is unquestionably the She-toad,
outside the irresistible attraction of the sexes
is there really such a thing as beauty to an
animal? Considered generally, what is
beauty, actually? Beauty is order. What
is order? Harmony in the whole design.
What is harmony? Harmony is . . . But
enough. Answers would follow upon quest-
103

The Sacred Beetle and Others

ions without ever touching the real principle
of it all, the Immovable foundation. What
a lot of philosophizing over a lump of
dung! It is high time to change the subject.

104

CHAPXER y

THE SACRED BEETLE: THE MODELLING

T TERE we are on solid ground, in the
■•- "'■ domain of facts, of things that can be
seen and recorded. How does the Sacred
Beetle obtain the maternal pear? To begin
with, it is certain that this shape is not
achieved by the process of transport, for it is
not at all what one would get from hap-
hazard rolling in all directions. The belly
of the gourd might be made in that way;
but the neck, the elliptical nipple hollowed
into a hatching-chamber: that delicate work
could never result from a series of violent,
Irregular bumps. A goldsmith does not
hammer out a jewel on a blacksmith's anvil I
Together with other sound reasons already
adduced, the pear-shaped outline delivers us,
I hope, once and for all, from the antiquated
belief that the egg has its home inside a
roughly-jolted sphere.

To produce this masterpiece, the sculptor

retires to his den. Even so the Sacred

Beetle. She shuts herself in her crypt, with

the materials which she has brought down

105

The Sacred Beetle and Others

there, in order to concentrate upon her
modeUing. The block out of which she is
to shape her pear may be obtained in two
ways. Sometimes the Beetle manages to
secure from the heap, by methods which are
familiar to us, a fine mass of material which
is kneaded into a ball on the spot and is a
perfect sphere before it is set in motion.
Were it only a question of provisions in-
tended for her own meal, she would never
act otherwise.

When the ball is deemed big enough, if
the place does not suit her wherein to dig
the burrow, she sets out with her rolling
burden, going at random till she lights
upon a favourable spot. On the way, the
ball, without becoming any rounder than it
was to start with, hardens a little on the
surface and is encrusted with earth and tiny
grains of sand. This earthy rind, picked up
on the road, is an authentic sign of a more
or less long journey. The detail is not with-
out importance; we shall find it useful
presently.

At other times, the Beetle may find a
suitable site for her burrow close to the
heap which has provided her block. The
soil there may be free from pebbles and easy
to dig. In that case, there is no need of any
1 06

The Sacred Beetle: the Modelling

travelling and consequently no need to make
a ball. The soft droppings of the Sheep are
gathered and stored as found, entering the
workshop as a shapeless mass, either in one
lump or, if need be, in several.

This is rarely the case under natural
conditions, because of the roughness of the
ground, which is full of stones and flints.
Sites practicable for easy digging are few
and far between; and the Insect has to roam
about, with Its burden, to find them. In my
cages, on the other hand, where the layer
of earth has been passed through a sieve,
it is the usual case. Here the soil is easy
to dig at any point; and so the mother, who
is anxious to get her eggs laid, merely lowers
the nearest lump underground, without wait-
ing to give it any definite form.

Whether this storing without any pre-
liminary modelling or carting take place In
the fields or In my cages, the ultimate result
is most striking. One day, I see a shapeless
lump disappear into the crypt. Next day,
or the day after, I visit the workshop and
find the artist In front of her work. The
original formless mass, the armfuls of scrap-
ings carried down have become a pear per-
fect In outline and exquisitely finished.

The artistic object bears the marks of its
107

The Sacred Beetle and Others

method of manufacture. The part that
rests upon the bottom of the cavity is crusted
over with earthy particles; all the rest is of
a glossy polish. Owing to its weight, owing
also to the pressure exercised when the
Beetle manipulated it, the pear, while still
quite soft, became soiled with grains of earth
on the side that touched the floor of the
workshop; on the remainder, which is the
larger part, it has retained the delicate finish
which the insect was able to give it.

The inferences to be drawn from these
carefully noted details are obvious: the pear
is no turner's work; it has not been obtained
by any sort of rolling on the ground of the
spacious studio, for in that case it would
have been soiled with earth all over. Be-
sides, its projecting neck eliminates this me-
thod of fabrication. And its unblemished
upper surface is eloquent testimony that it has
not even been turned from one side to the
other. The Beetle therefore, has moulded
It where it lies, without turning or shifting it
at all; she has modelled it with little taps of
her broad paddles, just as we saw her model
her ball in the daylight.

Let us now return to what usually happens
in the free state. The materials then come
from a distance and are carried into the
1 08

The Sacred Beetle: the Modelling

burrow in the form of a ball covered with
soil on every part of its surface. What will
the insect do with this sphere which contains
the paunch of the future pear ready-made?
It would be easy to answer this if I con-
cerned myself only with results, without
troubhng how those results were obtained.
It would be enough for me, as I have often
done, to capture the mother in her burrow
with her ball and take the whole lot home, to
my insect laboratory, in order to keep a close
watch on events.

I fill a large glass jar with earth, sifted,
moistened and heaped to the desired depth.
I place the mother and the beloved pill which
she is clasping on the surface of this artificial
soil. I stow away the apparatus in a dim
corner and wait. My patience is not tried
very long. Urged by the insistent ovaries,
the Beetle resumes her interrupted work.

In certain cases, I see her, still on the
surface, destroying her ball, ripping it up,
cutting it to pieces, shredding it. This is
not in the least the act of one in despair who,
finding herself a captive, breaks the precious
object in her madness. It is based on sound
hygienics. A scrupulous inspection of the
morsel which she has gathered in haste,
among lawless competitors, is often neces-
109

The Sacred Beetle and Others

sary, for supervision is not always easy on
the harvest-field itself, in the midst of thieves
and robbers. The ball may be harbouring
a collection of little Onthophagi and Aphodii
who passed unnoticed in the heat of acquisi-
tion.

These involuntary intruders, finding them-
selves very well-off in the heart of the mass,
would make good use of the future pear,
much to the detriment of the legitimate
consumer. The ball must be purged of this
hungry brood. The mother, therefore,
pulls it to pieces and scrutinizes the fragments
closely. Then the sorted bits are carefully
put together again and the ball remade, this
time without any earthy rind. It is dragged
underground and becomes an immaculate
pear, always excepting the surface touching
the soil.

Oftener still, the ball is thrust by the
mother into the soil in the jar just as I took
it from the burrow, still with the rough crust
which it has acquired in its cross-country
rolling from the place where it was obtained
to the place where the insect intends to use it.
In that case, I find it at the bottom of my
jar transformed into a pear, but still rough
and encrusted with earth and sand over the
whole of its surface, thus proving that the
no

The Sacred Beetle: the Modelling

pear-shaped outline has not demanded a
general recasting of the mass, inside as well
as out, but has been obtained by simple
pressure and by drawing out the neck.

This is how, in the vast majority of cases,
things happen under normal conditions.
Almost all the pears that I dig up in the fields
have rinds and are unpolished, some more,
others less. If we put on one side the in-
evitable incrustations due to the carting-
process, these blemishes would seem to point
to a prolonged rolling in the interior of the
subterranean manor. The few which I find
perfectly smooth, especially those wonder-
fully neat specimens furnished by my cages,
dispel this mistake entirely. They show us
that, when the materials are collected near
the burrow and stored away unshaped, the
pear Is modelled wholly without rolling; they
prove to us that, in other cases, the lines of
earth and grit on the outside of the ball are
not a sign of its having been rolled to and fro
in the workshop, but are simply the marks of
a fairly long journey on the surface of the
ground.

To be present at the construction of the

pear is no easy matter : the mystery-loving

artist obstinately refuses to do any work as

soon as the hght reaches her. She needs

III

The Sacred Beetle and Others

absolute darkness for her modelling; and I
need light If I would see her at her task. It
Is Impossible to unite the two conditions.
Let us try, nevertheless; let us catch some
glimpses of the truth whose fulness eludes
our vision.

The arrangements made are as follows.
I once more take the big jar. I cover the
bottom with a layer of earth two or three
Inches deep. To obtain the transparent
workshop necessary for my observations, I
fix a tripod on the earthy layer and, on
this support, about four Inches In height,
I place a round piece of deal of the same
diameter as the jar. The glass-walled
chamber thus marked out will represent the
roomy crypt In which the Insect works. A
piece Is scolloped out of the edge of the deal
block, large enough to permit of the passage
of the Beetle and her ball. Lastly, above
this screen, I heap a layer of earth as deep
as the jar allows.

During the operation, a portion of the
upper earth falls through the opening and
shps down to the lower space In a wide
inclined plane. This was a circumstance
which I had foreseen and which was in-
dispensable to my plan. By means of this
slope, the artist, when she has found the

112

The Sacred Beetle: the Modelling

communicating trap-door, will make for the
transparent cell which I have arranged for
her. She will make for it, of course, only
provided that she be in perfect darkness. I
therefore make a cardboard cyhnder, closed
at the top, and place it over the glass jar.
Left standing where it is, the opaque sheath
will provide the dusk which the insect wants;
suddenly raised, it will give the light which
I want.

Things being thus arranged, I go in quest
of a mother who has just withdrawn into
solitude with her ball. A morning's search
is enough to provide me with what I
need. I place the mother and her ball on
the surface of the upper layer of earth; I
cap the apparatus with its cardboard sheath;
and I wait. I say to myself that the Beetle
is too persevering to give up work until her
egg is housed and that she will therefore dig
herself a new burrow, dragging her ball with
her as she goes; she will pass through the
upper layer of earth, which is not sufficiently
thick; she will come upon the deal board,
an obstacle similar to the broken stones that
often bar her passage in the course of her
normal excavations; she will investigate the
cause of the impediment and, finding the
opening, will descend through this trap-door
"3

The Sacred Beetle and Others

to the lower compartment, which, being free
and roomy, will represent to the insect the
crypt whence I have just removed it. But
all this takes time; and I must wait for the
morrow to satisfy my impatient curiosity.

The hour has come: let us go and see.
The study-door was left open yesterday: the
mere sound of the door-handle might disturb
and stop my distrustful worker. By way of
greater precaution, before entering I put
on noiseless slippers. And now, whoosh !
The cylinder Is removed. Capital! My
forecast was correct.

The Beetle occupies the glazed studio. I
surprise her at work, with her broad foot
laid on the rough model of the pear. But,
startled by the sudden light, she remains
motionless, as though petrified. This lasts
a few seconds. Then she turns her back
upon me and awkwardly ascends the inclined
plane, to reach the dim heights of her gallery.
I give a glance at the work, take note of its
shape and its position and once more restore
darkness with the cardboard sheath. Let us
not prolong our intrusion, If we would renew
the test.

My sudden, short visit gives us some Idea
of the mysterious work. The ball, which at
first was absolutely spherical, is now de-
114

The Sacred Beetle: the Modelling

pressed at the top into a sort of shallow
crater with a swollen rim. The thing re-
minds me, on a very much smaller scale, of
certain prehistoric pots, with a round belly,
a thick-lipped mouth and a narrow groove
round the neck. fThis rough model of the
future pear tells us of the insect's method,
a method identical with that of pleistocene
man ignorant of the potter's wheel.

The plastic ball, ringed at one end, has
had a groove made in it, the starting-point
of the neck of the pear; it has also been
drawn out slightly into a rather blunt pro-
jection. In the centre of this projection
pressure has been applied. The first stage
of the work therefore consists merely in
placing a ring round the ball and applying
pressure.

Towards evening I pay another sudden
visit, in complete silence. The insect has re-
covered from its excitement of the morning
and gone down again to its workshop.
Troubled by the flood of light, baffled by the
strange events to which my artifices give rise,
it at once makes off and takes refuge in the
upper story. The poor mother, persecuted
by these illuminations, moves away into the
darkest recesses; but she goes regretfully,
with hesitating steps.

IIS

The Sacred Beetle and Others

The work has progressed. The crater
has become deeper; its thick lips have dis-
appeared, are thinner, closer together,
drawn out into the neck of a pear. The
object, however, has not changed its place.
Its position and direction are exactly as I
noted them before. The side that rested
on the ground is still at the bottom, at the
same point; the side that faced upwards is
still at the top; the crater that lay on my
right has been replaced by the neck, still on
my right. All of which gives conclusive
proof of my earlier statements: there is no
rolling, but only pressure, which kneads and
shapes.

The next day, a third visit. The pear is
finished. Its neck, yesterday a yawning
sack, is now closed. The egg, therefore, is
laid; the work is completed and demands
only the finishing touches of general polish-
ing, touches upon which the mother, so intent
on geometrical perfection, was doubtless
engaged at the time when I disturbed her.

The most delicate part of the business
escapes my observation. Roughly speaking,
I can see plainly how the egg's hatching-
chamber is obtained: the thick pad surround-
ing the original crater is thinned and flattened
ii6

The Sacred Beetle: the Modelling

under the pressure of the feet and is
lengthened into a sack the mouth of which
gradually narrows. Up to this point, the
work provides its own explanation. But,
when we think of the Insect's rigid tools, its
broad, toothed fore-arms, whose spasmodic
movements remind us of the stiff gestures of
an automaton, we are left without any
explanation of the exquisite perfection of the
cell which is to be the hatching-chamber of
the egg.

With this crude equipment, excellently
adapted to pick-axe work though it be, how
does the Scarab obtain the natal dwelling,
the oval nest so daintily polished and glazed
within? Does her foot, a regular saw, fitted
with enormous teeth, begin to rival the
artist's brush In delicacy from the moment
when It is Inserted through the narrow orifice
of the sack? Why not? I have said else-
where and this Is the moment to say It again:
the tool does not make the workman. The
Insect exercises its own particular talents with
any kind of tool with which it is supplied.
It can saw with a plane or plane with a saw,
like the model workman of whom Franklin
tells us. The same strong-toothed rake
which the Sacred Beetle uses to open up the
earth she also employs as a trowel and brush
117

The Sacred Beetle and Others

wherewith to glaze the stucco of the chamber
in which the grub will be born.

In conclusion, one more detail concerning
this hatching-chamber. At the extreme end
of the neck of the pear, one point is always
pretty clearly distinguished: it bristles with
stringy fibres, while the rest of the neck is
carefully pohshed. This is the plug with
which the mother has closed the narrow
opening after carefully depositing the egg;
and this plug, as its hairy structure shows,
has not been subjected to the pressure which
has been exerted over all the rest of the mass,
working into it any projecting bits, however
small, till not the slightest sign of roughness
remains.

Why does the extreme end of the pear
receive this special treatment, a most curious
exception, when nothing else has eluded the
heavy blows of the insect's legs? The
reason is that the hind-end of the egg rests
against this plug, which, were it pressed
down and driven in, would transmit the
pressure to the germ and imperil its safety.
So the mother, aware of the risk, stops the
hole without ramming down the stopper : the
air in the hatching-chamber is thus more
easily renewed; and the egg escapes the
dangerous activity of the powerful rammer.
ii8

CHAPTER VI

THE SACRED BEETLE: THE LARVA

UNDER the thin celling of the burrow,
the Sacred Beetle's egg undergoes the
varying influences of the sun, the supreme
incubator. Consequently there is not nor
can there be any fixed date for the quickening
of the germ. In very hot, sunny weather, I
have obtained a grub five or six days after
the egg was laid; with a more moderate
temperature, I have had to wait until the
twelfth day. June and July are the hatch-
ing-months.

As soon as the new-born grub has flung
aside its swaddling-clothes, it forthwith bites
into the walls of its chamber. It starts eat-
ing its house, not anyhow, but with unerring
wisdom. If it nibbled at the thin side of its
cell — and there is nothing to dissuade it, for
here as elsewhere the materials are of
excellent quality — if its mandibles scraped
the extreme end of the nipple, the weakest
point, it would make a breach in the pro-
tecting wall before it had sufficient putty to
119

The Sacred Beetle and Others

repair that breach. This putty is the
material which we shall see the larva using
later, when accidents of that kind occur from
external causes.

If it ate into its heap of provisions at
random, it would expose itself to serious
risks from the outside; at the very least it
would be liable to slip out of its cradle and
tumble to the ground through the open
window. Once it falls out of its cell, there
is no hope for the little grub. It will not
know how to make its way back to the
larder; and, if it does find its heap of pro-
visions again, it will be repelled by the hard
rind with its bits of grit and sand. In its
wisdom, greater than any possessed by the
young of the higher animals, which are
always watched over by a mother, the new-
born larva, still sleek and shiny with the
slime of the egg, thoroughly knows the
danger and avoids it by masterly tactics.

Though all the food around it is alike
and all is to its taste, nevertheless it tackles
exclusively the floor of its cell, a floor con-
tinued by the bulky sphere in which bites will
be permissible in every direction, as the
consumer pleases.

Can any one explain why this particular
spot is chosen as the starting-point, when

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

there is nothing to distinguish it, from the
point of view of food? Could the tiny
creature be warned of the proximity of the
outer air by the effect which a thin wall has
on its sensitive skin? If so, how is this
effect produced? Besides, what does a grub,
that moment born, know of outside dangers?
I am quite in the dark.

Or rather I begin to see daylight. I
recognize once again, under another aspect,
what was taught me some years ago by the
Scolia-wasps ^ and the Sphex-wasps,^ those
scientific eaters, those skilful anatomists, who
can discriminate so well between the lawful
and the unlawful and are consequently able
to devour their prey without killing it until
the end of the meal. The Sacred Beetle has
his own complicated art of eating. Though
he need not trouble about the preservation of
the victuals, which are not liable to go bad,
he has nevertheless to guard against ill-timed
mouthfuls, which would rob him of his
shelter. Of these dangerous mouthfuls, the
earliest are the most to be feared, because

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

2 Cf. The Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri Fabre, translated
by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, iv. to x. — Trans-
lator's Note.

121

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of the creature's weakness and the thinness
of the wall. As its protection, therefore,
the grub has, In Its own way, the primal
inspiration without which none would be
able to live; it obeys the imperious voice of
instinct, which says:

" There shalt thou bite and no elsewhere."
And, respecting all the rest, however
tempting, it bites at the prescribed spot; it
eats into the pear at the bottom of the neck.
In a few days, it has worked its way deep
down into the mass, where it waxes big and
fat, transforming the filthy material into a
plump larva, gleaming with health, ivory-
white with slate-coloured reflections and
without a speck of dirt upon It. The matter
which has disappeared, or rather which has
been remelted in life's crucible, leaves empty
a round cell Into which the grub fits Itself,
curving its back under the spherical dome
and bending double.

The time has come for a sight stranger
than any yet displayed to me by the industrial
prowess of an insect. Anxious to observe
the grub In the intimacy of its home, I open
in the belly of the pear a little peep-hole half
a centimetre ^ square. The head of the
recluse at once appears in the opening, to

1 .19 inch. — Translator's Note.
122

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

enquire what is happening. The breach is
perceived. The head disappears. I can
just see the white back turning about in the
narrow cabin; and, then and there, the
window which I have made is closed with a
soft, brown paste, which soon hardens.

The inside of the cabin, said I to myself,
is no doubt a semifluid porridge. Turning
round, as is shown by the sudden slide of its
back, the grub has collected a handful of
this material and, completing the circuit, has
stuck its load, by way of mortar, in the
breach which It considered dangerous. I
remove the plug. The grub acts as before,
puts its head at the window, withdraws it,
spins round as easily as a nut in its shell and
forthwith produces a second plug as ample
as the first. Forewarned of what was
coming, this time I saw more clearly.

What a mistake I had made ! However,
I am not so much startled as I might be : in
the art of defence, animals often employ
means which our imagination would not dare
to contemplate. It is not the grub's head
that is presented at the breach, after the
preliminary twisting: it is the other ex-
tremity. It does not bring a lump of its
ahmentary dough, gathered by scraping the
walls: it excretes upon the aperture to be
123

The Sacred Beetle and Others

closed; a much more economical proceeding.
Sparingly measured out, the rations must not
be wasted: there Is just enough to live upon.
Besides, the cement Is of better quality; it
soon sets. Lastly, the urgent repairs are
more quickly effected If the intestines lend
their kindly aid.

They do, in point of fact, and to an
astonishing degree. Five, six times in
succession and oftener, I remove the plug;
and, time after time, the mortar ejects a
copious discharge from its apparently In-
exhaustible reservoir, which Is ever at the
mason's service, without an Interval for rest.
The grub Is already beginning to resemble
the Sacred Beetle, whose stercoraceous prow-
ess we know: It is a past master in the art
of dunging. It possesses above any other
animal In the world an Intestinal docility
which anatomy will undertake presently to
explain to us in part.

The plasterer and the mason have their
trowels. In the same way, the grub, that
zealous repairer of breaches made in Its
home, has a trowel of its own. The last
segment is lopped off slantwise and carries on
its dorsal surface a sort of inclined plane, a
broad disk surrounded by a fleshy pad. In
the middle of the disk is a slit, forming the
124

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

cementing-aperture. There you have your
trowel, a most respectable one, flattened out
and supplied with a rim to prevent the
compressed matter from flowing away use-
lessly.

As soon as the mass of plastic matter has
been emitted, the levelling- and compressing-
instrument sets to work to introduce the
cement well into the irregularities of the
breach, to push it right through the thick-
ness of the ruined portion, to give It
consistency and smooth it. After this
trowel-work, the grub turns round: it comes
and finishes the job with its wide forehead
and improves it with the tip of its mandibles.
Wait a quarter of an hour; and the repaired
portion will be as firm as the rest of the
shell, so quickly does the cement set. Out-
side, the repairs are betrayed by the ir-
regular projections where the stuff has been
forced out, the part which the trowel could
not reach; but, inside, there is no trace of
the breakage: the usual polish has been
restored at the damaged spot. A plasterer
stopping a hole in one of our walls could
produce no better piece of work.

Nor do the grub's talents end here.
With its cement it becomes the mender of
pots and pans. Let me explain. I have
125

The Sacred Beetle and Others

compared the outside of the pear, which,
when pressed and dried, becomes a stout
shell, with a jar containing fresh food. In
the course of my excavations, sometimes
made on difficult soil, I have happened
occasionally to break this jar with an ill-
directed blow of my trowel. I have
collected the potsherds, pieced them to-
gether, after restoring the grub to its place,
and kept the whole thing united by wrapping
it in a scrap of newspaper.

On reaching home, I have found the pear
put out of shape, no doubt, and seamed with
scars, but just as solid as ever. During the
walk, the grub had restored its ruined
dwelling to condition. Cement injected into
the cracks joined the pieces; inside, a thick
plastering strengthened the inner wall, so
much so that the repaired shell was quite as
good as the untouched shell, except for the
irregularity of the outside. In its artist-
ically-mended stronghold, the grub found the
peace essential to its existence.

The time has come to ask ourselves the
reason for this plasterer's craft. Destined
to hve in complete darkness, does the larva
stop the cracks made in its house in order
to avoid the unwelcome intrusion of the
light? But it is blind. There is no trace
126

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

of an organ of sight on its yellowish head-
piece. The absence of eyes, however, does
not authorize us to deny the influence of the
light, an influence which perhaps is vaguely
resented by the grub's delicate skin. Proofs
are required. Here they are.

I manage to make my breach almost in the
dark. The little light that remains is just
suflicient to guide my housebreaking-imple-
ment. When the opening is made, I at once
lower the shell into a dark box. A few
minutes later, the hole is stopped. Despite
the darkness in which It found itself, the grub
has thought fit to seal up its cell.

In small jars packed full of provisions, I
bring up larvae taken from their native pear.
A pit is dug In the mass of foodstuffs, ending
at the bottom in a hemisphere. This
cavity, representing about the half of the
pear, will be the artificial cell given in
exchange for the natural one. I put the
grubs on which I am experimenting into
separate cells. The change of residence
produces no appreciable anxiety. Finding
the food of my selecting very much to their
taste, they bite into the walls with their
customary appetite. Exile in no way per-
turbs those stoical stomachs; and my
attempts at breeding are pursued unchecked.
127

The Sacred Beetle and Others

A remarka'ble thing now happens. All
my transplanted ones work little by little
to complete the round nest of which my pit
represented only the lower half. I have
provided the flooring. They propose to
add a ceiling, a dome, and thus to shut them-
selves up in a spherical enclosure. The
materials are the putty supplied by the
intestines; the building-tool is the trowel, the
inclined plane of the final segment. Soft
bricks are laid on the margin of the well.
When these have set, they serve as a support
for a second row, sloping slightly inwards.
Other rows follow, marking the curve of the
general structure more and more distinctly.
Also, from time to time, a wriggle of the
hinder-part assists in determining the
spherical conformation. In this way, with-
out any supporting scaffold, without the
cradle indispensable to our architects In
building an arched roof, a commanding dome
is obtained, built upon space and completing
the sphere which I began.

Some of them shorten the work. The
glass wall of the little jar occasionally comes
within range. Its smooth surface suits the
taste of these fastidious polishers; Its curve,
to a certain extent, coincides with that of
their plan. They make use of It, doubtless
128

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

not from economy of labour and time, but
because, to their mind, the smooth round
wall is a thing of their own making. In
this way there is reserved, on the sides of
the cupola, a large glazed window which
answers my purpose admirably.

Well, the grubs which, all day long and
for weeks on end, receive the bright light
of my study through this window of mine
keep as quiet as the others, eating and
digesting, and never trouble to shut out any
unwelcome rays with a blind made of their
putty. We may take it therefore that, when
the larva so eagerly closes the breach which
I have made in its chamber, its object is not
to protect itself from the light.

Does it fear draughts then, when It
scrupulously fills up the least cranny through
which the air might enter? This again is not
the solution. The temperature is the same
in my room and in the grub's; besides, when
I perpetrate my burglaries, the atmosphere
in my study is absolutely still. I do not
examine the prisoner In a gale, but in the
calm of my workroom, in the even pro-
founder calm of a glass jar.

There can be no question of a cold breeze,
which would be painful to a very sensitive
skin; and nevertheless the air Is the enemy
129

The Sacred Beetle and Others

to be avoided at all costs. If it flowed in at
all plentifully through a breach, with the
dryness which the July heat imparts to it,
the provisions would be dried up. Faced
with an uneatable biscuit, the grub would
become languid and anaemic and would soon
perish of hunger. The mother, to the best
of her abilities, has guarded her offspring
against death from starvation by making
her pear round and giving it a stout rind;
but, for all that, her children are not
released from every obligation to watch their
rations. If they want bread that keeps soft
and fresh to the last, they must in their turn
see to it that the provision-jar is properly
closed. Crevices may appear, fraught with
grave danger. It is important to stop them
up without delay. This, If I be not utterly
at fault, is the reason why the grub is a
plasterer armed with a trowel and provided
with a workshop that can always furnish
plenty of putty. The pot-mender repairs
his cracked jar In order to keep his bread
nice and soft.

A serious objection suggests Itself. The
slits, the breaches, the vent-holes which I
see so zealously cemented are the work of
my instruments: tweezers, pen-knife, dis-
sectlng-needles. It cannot be maintained
130

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

that the grub is endowed with its strange
talent to protect itself against the troubles
brought upon it by human curiosity. What
has it to fear from man, in its life under-
ground? Nothing, or next to nothing.
Since the Sacred Beetle started rolling his
ball under the broad canopy of the sky, I am
probably the first to worry his family in
order to make them talk to me and instruct
me. Others will come after me perhaps ; but
they will be very few! No, man's destruct-
ive interference is not worth the pains
of providing one's self with a trowel and
cement. Then why this art of stopping
crevices ?

Wait. In Its apparently peaceful home,
in its round shell which seems to give it such
perfect security, the grub nevertheless has its
troubles. Which of us has not, from the
greatest to the smallest? They begin at
birth. Though I have only touched the
fringe of the matter, I am already aware
of three or four sorts of grievous accidents
to which the Sacred Beetle's larva is liable.
Plants, animals, blind physical forces, all
work its ruin by destroying its larder.

Competition Is rife around the cake served
up by the Sheep. When the mother Scarab
arrives to take her share and manufacture
131

The Sacred Beetle and Others

her pill, the bit is often at the mercy of
fellow-banqueters of whom the smallest are
the most to be dreaded. There are
especially little Onthophagi, earnest workers
crouching under the shelter of the cake.
Some prefer to plunge into the richest part
and bury themselves ecstatically in its
luscious depths. One of these is Schreber's
Onthophagus, who is a shiny ebon-black, with
four red spots on his wing-cases. Another
is the smallest of our Aphodii {Aphodius
pusillus, Herbst), who confides her eggs,
here and there, to the thick part of the cake.
In her hurry, the mother Scarab does not ex-
amine her harvest very carefully. While
some of the Onthophagi are removed, others,
buried in the centre of the mass, escape no-
tice. Besides, the Aphodius' eggs are so
small that they elude her vigilance. In this
way a contaminated lump of paste is taken
into the burrow and moulded.

The pears in our gardens suffer from ver-
min which disfigure them with scars. The
Sacred Beetle's pears suffer even worse
ravages. The Onthophagus shut in by
accident ferrets about and pulls them to
pieces. When, filled to repletion, the
glutton wishes to make his exit, he pierces
them with circular holes large enough to
132

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

admit a lead-pencil. The evil is worse still
with the Aphodius, whose family hatch,
develop and undergo their transformation
in the very heart of the provisions. My
notes contain descriptions of pears per-
forated in every direction, riddled with a
multitude of holes that serve for the escape
of the tiny dung-worker, a parasite in spite
of himself.

With table-fellows such as these, who bore
ventilating-shafts in the provisions, the
Sacred Beetle's grub dies if the miners be
numerous. Its trowel and mortar cannot
cope with so great a task. They can cope
with it if the damage be slight and the in-
truders few. At once stopping up every
passage that opens around it, the grub holds
its own against the invader; it disgruntles him
and drives him away. The pear is saved
and preserved from internal desiccation.

Various Cryptogamia have a finger in the
pie. They invade the fertile soil of the pill,
make it rise in scales, split it with fissures by
implanting their pustules. In its shell
cracked by this vegetation, the grub would
die were it not for the safeguard of its
mortar, which puts an end to these
desiccating vent-holes.

It puts an end to them in a third case,
133

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the most frequent of all. Without the
intervention of any ravager, whether animal
or plant, the pear pretty often peels of its
own accord, swells and tears. Is this due
to a reaction in the outer layer, which was
too tightly pressed by the mother when
modelling? Is it due to an attempt at
fermentation? Or is it not rather the result
of a contraction similar to that of clay, which
splits in drying? All three causes might
very well play their part.

But, without saying anything positive on
this point, I will draw attention to certain
deep fissures which seem to threaten the soft
bread with desiccation, inadequately pro-
tected as it Is by the cracked jar. Have
no fear that these spontaneous breaches will
do any harm: the larva will soon put them
right. In the distribution of gifts, it was
not for nothing that the trowel and putty
were awarded to the Sacred Beetle's grub.

We will now give a brief description of
the larva, without stopping to enumerate the
articulations of the palpi and antennae,
which are wearisome details of no immediate
Interest. It is a fat grub and has a fine,
white skin, with pale slate-coloured reflect-
ions proceeding from the digestive organs,
134

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

which are visible when you hold the creature
to the light. Bent into a broken arch or
hook, it is not unlike the grub of the Cock-
chafer, but has a much more ungainly figure,
for, on its back, at the sudden bend of the
hook, the third, fourth and fifth segments
of the abdomen swell into an enormous
hump, a tumour, a bag so prominent that the
skin seems on the point of bursting under
the pressure of the contents. This is the
animal's most striking feature: the fact that
it carries a knapsack.

The head is small, In proportion to the
grub's size. Is slightly convex, bright-red
and studded with a few pale bristles. The
legs are fairly long and sturdy, ending in a
pointed tarsus. The grub does not use them
as a means of progression. When taken
from its shell and placed upon the table, It
struggles in clumsy contortions without
succeeding in shifting its position; and the
helpless creature betrays Its anxiety by
repeated discharges of Its mortar.

Let us also mention the terminal trowel,
that last segment lopped into a slanting disk
and rimmed with a fleshy pad. In the centre
of this incHned plane Is the open stercora-
ceous slit, which thus, by a very unusual

I3S

The Sacred Beetle and Others

inversion, occupies the upper surface. A
huge hump and a trowel : that gives you the
insect in two words.

In his Histoire natiirelle des coleopteres
de France, Mulsant describes the larva of
the Sacred Beetle. He tells us with
meticulous detail the number and shape of
the joints of the palpi and antennae; he sees
the hypopygium ^ and its pointed bristles; he
sees a multitude of things in the domain of
the microscope; and he does not see the
monstrous knapsack that takes up almost
half the insect, nor does he see the strange
configuration of the last segment. There is
not a doubt in my mind that the writer of
this minute description has made a mistake:
the larva of which he speaks is nothing like
that of the Sacred Beetle,

We must not finish the history of the grub
without saying a few words about its internal
structure. Anatomy will show us the works
wherein the cement employed in so eccentric
a manner is manufactured. The stomach or
chylific ventricle is a long, thick cylinder,
starting from the creature's neck after a very
short oesophagus. It measures about three
times the insect's length. In its last quarter,

1 The last ventral segment of the abdomen. — Translator's
Note.

136

The Sacred Beetle: the Larva

It carries a voluminous lateral pocket
distended by the food. This is a subsidiary
stomach in which the supplies are stored
so as to yield their nutritive principles more
thoroughly. The chylific ventricle is much
too long to lie straight and twists round, in
front of its appendix, in the form of a large
loop occupying the dorsal surface. It is to
contain this loop and the side-pocket that the
back swells into a hump. The grub's knap-
sack is, therefore, a second paunch, an
annexe, as it were, of the stomach, which Is
by itself incapable of holding the voluminous
digestive apparatus. Four very fine, very
long tubular glands, very much entangled,
four Malpighian vessels mark the limits of
the chylific ventricle.

Next comes the intestine, which Is narrow
and cylindrical and rises in front. The
Intestine is followed by the rectum, which
pushes backwards. This last, which is
exceptionally large and furnished with stout
walls, is wrinkled across, bloated and
distended with its contents. There you have
the roomy warehouse in which the digestive
refuse accumulates; there you have the
mighty ejaculator, ever ready to provide
cement.

137

CHAPTER VII

THE SACRED BEETLE: THE NYMPH;
THE RELEASE

THE larva Increases in bulk as it eats
the walls of its house from the inside.
Little by little, the belly of the pear is
scooped out into a cell whose capacity grows
in proportion to the growth of Its iiihabitant.
Ensconced In its hermitage, supplied with
board and lodging, the recluse waxes big and
fat. What more Is wanted? Certain
hygienic duties have to be attended to,
though it is no easy matter in a cramped
little niche nearly all the room in which is
occupied by the grub; the mortar incessantly
elaborated by an excessively obliging in-
testine must be shot somewhere when there
is no breach that needs repairing.

The larva is certainly not fastidious, but
even so the bill of fare must not be too out-
rageous. The humblest of the humble does
not return to what he or his kin have already
digested. Matter from which the intestinal
alembic has extracted the last available atom
yields nothing more, unless we change both
138

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

chemist and apparatus. What the Sheep,
with her fourfold stomach, has left behind
as worthless residue Is an excellent thing for
the grub, which also boasts a mighty paunch;
but the larva's own droppings, though no
doubt pleasing In their turn to consumers of
another class, are loathsome to the grub it-
self. Then where shall the cumbrous refuse
be stored, In a lodging of such niggardly
dimensions?

I have described elsewhere the singular
Industry of the Cotton-bees,^ whose larvae.
In order not to foul their provision of honey,
make from their digestive dregs an elegant
casket, a masterpiece of Inlaid work. With
the only material at Its disposal In Its se-
cluded retreat, with the filth that apparently
ought to be an intolerable nuisance, the grub
of the Sacred Beetle produces a work less
artistic than the Cotton-bee's but much
more comfortable. Let us see how it is
done.

Attacking Its pear at the bottom of the
neck, eating steadily downwards and leaving
nothing Intact In its area of operations except
a flimsy wall necessary for Its protection,

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

139

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the larva obtains a free space at the back,
in which its droppings are deposited without
dirtying the provisions. The hatching-
chamber is the first to be filled up in this way;
then gradually more and more of the
segment which has been eaten into follows
suit, always in the round part of the pear,
which consequently by degrees recovers its
original compactness at the top, while the
bottom becomes less and less thick. Behind
the grub is the ever-increasing mass of used
material; in front of it is the layer, smaller
day by day, of untouched food.

Complete development is attained in four
or five weeks. By that time there is in the
belly of the pear an eccentric, circular cavity,
with walls very thick towards the neck of
the pear and very flimsy at the other end,
the disparity being occasioned by the me-
thod of eating and of progressive filling
up. The meal is over. Next comes the
furnishing of the cell, which must be
padded snugly for the tender body of the
nymph, and the strengthening of one of the
hemispheres, the one whose walls have been
scraped by the last bites to the utmost per-
missible limit.

For this most important work the larva
has wisely reserved a plentiful stock of
140

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

cement. The trowel therefore begins to be
busy. This time, the object is not to repair
damage; it is to double and treble the thick-
ness of the wall in the weaker hemisphere
and to cover the whole surface with stucco
which, after being polished by the move-
ments of the grub's body, will be soft to the
touch. As this cement acquires a consistency
superior to that of the original materials,
the grub is at last contained within a stout
casket which defies all efforts to open it
with one's fingers and is almost capable of
withstanding a blow from a stone.

The apartment is ready. The grub sheds
its skin and becomes a nymph. There are
very few inhabitants of the insect world that
can compare for sober beauty with the
dehcate creature which, with wing-cases
recumbent in front of it like a wide-pleated
scarf and fore-legs folded under its head
like those of the adult Beetle when counter-
feiting death, calls to mind a mummy
kept by its linen bandages in the approved
hieratic attitude. Semitranslucent and
honey-yellow, it looks as though it were
carved from a block of amber. Imagine
it hardened in this state, mineralized,
rendered incorruptible: it would make a
splendid topaz gem.

141

The Sacred Beetle and Others

In this marvel of beauty, so severe and
dignified In shape and colouring, one point
above all captivates me and at last provides
me with the solution of a far-reaching
problem. Have the fore-legs a tarsus, yes
or no? This Is the great matter that makes
me neglect the jewel for the sake of a
structural detail. Let us then return to a
■subject that used to excite me in my early
days, for the answer has come at last, late,
it Is true, but certain and Indisputable. The
probabilities which were all that my first
investigations could give me turn into cer-
tainties established by overwhelming evi-
dence.

By a very strange exception, the full-
grown Sacred Beetle and his congeners have
no front tarsi : they lack on their fore-limbs
the five-jointed finger which Is the rule
among the highest section of Beetles, the
Pentamera. The remaining legs, on the
other hand, follow the general law and
possess a very well-shaped tarsus. Does
this curious formation of the toothed fore-
arms date from birth, or Is It accidental?

At first sight, an accident seems not un-
likely. The Sacred Beetle is a strenuous
miner and a great pedestrian. Always In
contact with the rough soil, whether in
142

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

walking or digging; used moreover for
constant leverage when the insect is rolling
its pill backwards, the front limbs are
exposed much more freely than the others
to the danger of spraining and twisting their
delicate finger, of putting it out of joint, of
losing it entirely, from the first moment when
the work begins.

Lest this explanation should appeal to any
of my readers, I will hasten to undeceive
him. The absence of the front fingers is
not the result of an accident. Here before
my eyes lies the unanswerable proof. I
examine the nymph's legs with the magnify-
ing-glass : those in front have not the least
vestige of a tarsus; the toothed limb ends
bluntly, without any trace of a terminal
appendage. In the others, on the contrary,
the tarsus is as distinct as can be, notwith-
standing the shapeless, lumpy condition due
to the swaddling-bands and humours of the
nymphal state. It suggests a finger swollen
with chilblains.

If the evidence of the nymph were not
suflScient, there would still be that of the
perfect insect, which, casting its mummy-
cloths and moving for the first time in its
shell, wields fingerless fore-arms. The
point is established for a certainty: the
143

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Sacred Beetle is born maimed; his mutilation
dates from the beginning.

" Very well," our popular theorists will
reply, " the Sacred Beetle is mutilated from
birth; but his remote ancestors were not.
Formed according to the general rule, they
were correct in structure down to this tiny
digital detail. There were some who, in
their rough work as navvies and carters,
wore out that fragile, useless member which
was always in the way; and, finding them-
selves all the better-equipped for their work
by this accidental amputation, they be-
queathed it to their successors, to the great
benefit of their race. The present insect
profits by the improvement obtained by a
long array of ancestors and, acting under
the stimulus of the struggle for life, gives
more and mc ; durability to a favourable
condition due o chance."

O ingenu<^ s theorists, so triumphant on
paper, so In ::)otent in the face of facts, just
listen to me for a moment! If the loss of
the front fingers is a fortunate circumstance
for the Sacred Beetle, who faithfully trans-
mits the leg of olden time fortuitously
- iaimed, why should It not be so with the
other limbs. If they too chanced to lose their
144

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

terminal appendage, a tiny, feeble filament,
which is very nearly useless and which, ow-
ing to its fragility, is a cause of awkward
encounters with the roughness of the soil?

The Sacred Beetle is not a climber; he is
an ordinary pedestrian, supporting himself
upon the point of an iron-shod stick, whereby
I mean the stout spike or prickle with which
the tip of his leg is armed. He has no
occasion to hold on by his claws to some
hanging branch, as the Cockchafer does.
It would therefore, meseems, be entirely to
his advantage to rid himself of the four
remaining digits, which jut out sideways,
give no help in walking and do not play any
part in the making and the carting of the
ball. Yes, that would mean progress, for
the simple reason that the less hold you give
the enemy the better. It remains to be seen
if chance ever produces this state of things.

It does and very often. At the end of the
fine weather, in October, when the insect has
worn itself out in digging, in trundling pills
and in modelling pears, the maimed, disabled
by their exertions, form the great majority.
Both in my cages and out of doors, I see
them in all stages of mutilation. Some have
lost the finger on their four hind-limbs

145

The Sacred Beetle and Others

altogether; others retain a stump, a couple
of joints, a single joint; those least damaged
have a few members left intact.

Here then is the mutilation on which the
philosophers base their theory. And it is
no rare accident: every year the cripples out-
number the others when the time comes for
retiring to winter-quarters. In their final
labours they seem no more embarrassed than
those who have been spared by the buffeting
of life. On both sides I find the same
nimbleness of movement, the same dexterity
in kneading the reserve of bread which will
enable them to bear the first rigours of
winter with equanimity in their underground
homes. In scavenger's work, the maimed
rival the others.

And these cripples found families: they
spend the cold season beneath the soil; they
wake up in the spring, return to the surface
and take part for a second time, sometimes
even for a third, in life's great festival.
Their descendants ought to profit by an im-
provement which has been renewed year by
year, ever since Sacred Beetles came into the
world, and which has certainly had time to
become fixed and to convert itself^ into a
settled habit. But they do nothing of the
sort. Every Sacred Beetle that breaks his
146

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

shell, with not one exception, is endowed
with the regulation four tarsi.

Well, my theorists, what do you say to
that? For the two front legs you offer a
sort of explanation ; and the four others give
you a categorical denial. Have you not
been taking your fancies for facts?

Then what is the cause of the Sacred
Beetle's original mutilation? I will frankly
confess that I have no idea. Nevertheless
those two maimed members are very strange,
so strange indeed that they have enticed the
masters, the greatest masters, into lament-
able errors. Listen, first of all to Latreille,^
the prince of descriptive entomologists. In
his article on the insects which ancient Egypt
painted or carved upon her monuments,^ he
quotes the writings of Horapollo,^ an unique
document preserved for us in the papyri for
the glorification of the sacred insect:

" One would be tempted at first," he says,

1 Pierre Andre Latreille (1762-1833), one of the founders
of entomological science, a professor at the Museum
d'histoire naturelle and member of the Academie des
Sciences. — Translator's Note.

2 Cf. Memoires du Museum d'histoire naturelle: vol. v.,
p. 249. — Author's Note.

^Horapollo Nilous, Orus Apollo, or Horus Apollo {fl.
circa 400), author of the Hieroglyphica. — Translator's
Note.

147

The Sacred Beetle and Others

" to set down as fiction what HorapoUo says
of the number of this Beetle's fingers: ac-
cording to him, there are thirty. Never-
theless, this computation, judged by the way
in which he looks at the tarsus, is quite
correct, for this part consists of five joints;
and, if we take each of them for a finger,
the legs being six in number and each ending
in a five-jointed tarsus, the Sacred Beetles
evidently had thirty fingers."

Forgive me, illustrious master: the num-
ber of joints is but twenty, because the tw^o
fore-legs are without tarsi. You were car-
ried away by the general rule. Losing sight
of the singular exception, which you certainly
knew, you said thirty, obsessed for a mo-
ment by that overwhelmingly positive rule.
Yes, you knew the exception, so much so that
the figure of the Scarab accompanying your
article, a figure drawn from the insect and
not from the Egyptian monuments, is irre-
proachably accurate : it has no tarsi on its
front legs. The blunder is pardonable, be-
cause the exception is so unusual.

Mulsant,^ in his volume on the French

1 Etienne Marcel Mulsant (1797-1880), author of the
His/oire nattirelle des coleopteres en France (1839-1874),
mentioned on page 136. — Translator's Note.

148

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

Lamellicorns, quotes Horapollo and his al-
lowance of thirty fingers to the insect ac-
cording to the number of days which the sun
takes to traverse a sign of the Zodiac. He
repeats Latreille's explanation. He goes
even farther. Here are his own words:

" If we count each joint of the tarsi as a
finger, we must admit that this insect was
examined with great attention."

Examined with great attention ! By
whom, pray? By Horapollo? Not a bit
of it! By you, my master: yes, indeed yes!
And yet the rule, in its very positiveness, is
misleading you for a moment; it misleads
you again and in a more serious fashion
when, in your illustration of the Sacred
Beetle, you represent the insect with tarsi
on its fore-legs, tarsi similar to those on the
other legs. You, painstaking describer
though you be, have in your turn been the
victim of a momentary aberration. The
rule is so general that it has made you
lose sight of the singularity of the exception.

What did Horapollo himself see? Ap-
parently what we see in our day. If
Latreille's explanation be right, as every-
thing seems to indicate, if the Egyptian
149

The Sacred Beetle and Others

author began by counting the first thirty
fingers according to the number of joints in
the tarsi, it is because he made a mental
enumeration on the basis of the general cir-
cumstances. He was guilty of a slip which
was not so very reprehensible, seeing that,
more than a thousand years later, masters
like Latreille and Mulsant were guilty of the
same slip. If we must blame something,
let us blame the exceptional structure of the
insect.

" But," I may be asked, " why should not
Horapollo have seen the exact truth?
Perhaps the Sacred Beetle of his day had
tarsi which the insect no longer possesses.
In that case, it has been transformed by the
slow work of time."

I am waiting for some one to show me a
natural Scarab of Horapollo's period before
I reply to this objection on the part of the
evolutionists. The tombs which so reli-
giously guard the Cat, the Ibis and the
Crocodile must also contain the sacred in-
sect. All that I have by me is a few figures
showing the Scarab as we find him engraved
on the monuments or carved in fine stone as
an amulet for the mummies. The ancient
artist is remarkably faithful in the execution
of the thing as a whole; but his graver and
150

The Sacred Beetle: the Nymph

chisel have not troubled about such In-
significant details as the tarsi.

Poor as I am in documents of this kind,
I doubt whether the work of sculptor or
engraver will solve the problem. Even If
an Image with front tarsi were discovered
somewhere or other, the question would be
no further advanced. It would always be
possible to plead a mistake, an oversight, a
leaning towards symmetry. The doubt, so
long as it prevails In certain minds, can be
removed only by the sight of the ancient
Insect In the natural state. I will wait for It,
though convinced beforehand that the Sacred
Beetle of the Pharaohs differed in no way
from our own.

We will stay a little longer with the old
Egyptian author, though his wild allegorical
jargon Is usually Incomprehensible. He is
sometimes strikingly accurate In his ideas.
Is thus due to a chance coincidence? Or Is
It the result of serious observation? I
should be glad to take the latter view, so
perfect is the agreement between his state-
ments and certain biological details of which
our own science was Ignorant until quite
lately. Of the home life of the Sacred
Beetle Horapollo knew much more than we
do. He tells us this in particular:
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The Sacred Beetle and Others

" The Scarabaeus deposits this ball in the
earth for the space of twenty-eight days (for
in so many days the moon passes through
the twelve signs of the Zodiac). By thus
remaining under the moon the race of
Scarabaei is endowed with life; and upon the
twenty-ninth day, after having opened the
ball, it casts it into water, for it is aware
that upon that day the conjunction of the
moon and sun takes place, as well as the
generation of the world. From the ball
thus opened, the animals, that is, the
Scarabaei, issue forth." ^

Let us dismiss the revolution of the moon,
the conjunction of the sun and moon, the
generation of the world and other astrologi-
cal absurdities, but remember this, the
twenty-eight days of incubation required
by the ball underground, the twenty-
eight days during which the Scarab Is born
to life. Let us also remember the in-
dispensable intervention of water to bring
the insect out of its burst shell. These are
definite facts, falling within the domain of
true science. Are they imaginary or real?
The question deserves investigation.

'^Hieroglyphics: Book I, x; Cory's translation. — Trans-
lator's Note.

IS2

The Sacred Beetle: the Release

The ancients were unacquainted with the
wonders of the metamorphosis. To them
a larva was a worm born of corruption.
The wretched creature had no future to lift
it from its abject state: as worm it appeared
and as worm it must disappear. It was not
a mask whereunder a higher form of life
was being elaborated; it was a definite entity,
supremely contemptible and doomed soon to
return to the putrescence of which it was the
offspring.

To the Egyptian author, then, the Scarab's
larva was unknown. And, if by chance he
had had before his eyes the Insect's shell in-
habited by a fat, pot-bellied grub, he would
never have suspected in the foul and ugly ani-
mal the sober beauty of the future Scarab.
According to the ideas of the time, Ideas that
were long maintained, the sacred insect had
neither father nor mother: an error excusable
among the untutored ancients, for here the
two sexes are outwardly Indistinguishable.
It was born of the ordure that formed Its
ball; and Its birth dated from the appearance
of the nymph, that amber jewel displaying In
a perfectly recognizable shape, the features
of the adult insect.

In the eyes of antiquity, the life of the
Sacred Beetle began at the moment when he

153

The Sacred Beetle and Others

could be recognized, not before; for other-
wise we should have that as yet unsuspected
connecting-link, the grub. The twenty-eight
days, therefore, during which, as Horapollo
tells us, the offspring of the insect quickens,
represent the duration of the nymphal phase.
This duration has been the object of special
attention in my studies. It varies but never
to any great extent. From my notes I find
thirty-three days to be the longest period
and twenty-one the shortest. The average,
supplied by some twenty observations, is
twenty-eight days. This very number
twenty-eight, this number of days contained
in four weeks, actually appears oftener
than the others. Horapollo spoke truly:
the real insect takes life in the space of a
lunar month.

[The four weeks past, behold the Sacred
Beetle in his final shape: the shape, yes, but
not the colouring, which is very strange
when the nymph casts its skin. The head,
legs and thorax are dark-red, except the
denticulations of the forehead and fore-
arms, which are smoky-brown. The
abdomen Is an opaque white; the wing-
cases are semitransparent white, very faintly
tinged with yellow. This imposing raiment,
blending the scarlet of the cardinal's cassock
154

The Sacred Beetle: the Release

with the white of the celebrant's alb, a
raiment that harmonizes with the insect's
hieratic character, is but temporary and turns
darker by degrees, to make way for a
uniform of ebon black. About a month is
needed for the horny armour to acquire a
firm consistency and a definite hue.

At last the Beetle is fully matured.
Awakening within him is the delicious rest-
lessness born of coming freedom. He,
hitherto a son of the darkness, foresees the
gladness of the hght. Great is his longing
to burst the shell so that he may emerge from
his underground prison and come into the
sun; but the difficulty of liberating himself
is no small one. Will he or will he not
escape from the natal cradle, which has now
become a hateful dungeon? It depends.

Generally in August the Sacred Beetle Is
ripe for release: in August, save for rare
exceptions the most torrid, dry and scorching
month of the year. If therefore no shower
come from time to time to give some slight
rehef to the panting earth, then the cell to
be burst and the wall to be breached defy
the strength and patience of the Insect, which
is helpless against all that hardness. Owing
to prolonged desiccation, the soft original
matter has become an insuperable rampart;
155

The Sacred Beetle and Others

it has turned into a sort of brick baked in
the kiln of summer.

I have, of course, made experiments on
the insect In these difficult circumstances.
I gather pear-shaped shells containing the
adult Beetle, who Is on the point of emer-
ging, in view of the lateness of the season.
These shells are already dry and very hard;
and I lay them in a box where they retain
their dryness. Sooner or later, I hear the
sharp grating of a rasp inside each cell. It
is the prisoner working to make himself an
outlet by scraping the wall with the rake of
his shield and fore-feet. Two or three days
elapse; and the process of deliverance seems
to be no further advanced.

I come to the assistance of a pair of them
by myself opening a loop-hole with a knife.
My idea is that this first breach will help the
egress of the recluse by giving him a place
to start upon, an exit that will only need
widening. But not at all: these favoured
ones make no more progress with their work
than the others.

In less than a fortnight, silence prevails
In all the shells. The prisoners, worn out
with vain endeavours, have perished. I
break the caskets containing the deceased.
A meagre pinch of dust, hardly as much as
156

The Sacred Beetle: the Release

an average pea In bulk, is all that those
powerful implements, rasp, saw, harrow
and rake, have succeeded in detaching from
the invincible wall.

I take some other shells, of equal hard-
ness, wrap them in a wet rag and put them
in a flask. When the moisture has soaked
through them, I rid them of their wrapper
and keep them in the corked flask. This
time, events take a very different course.
Softened to a nicety by the wet rag, the
shells open, burst by the efforts of the
prisoner, who props himself boldly on his
legs, using his back as a lever; or else,
scraped away at one point, they crumble to
pieces and reveal a yawning breach. The
experiment Is a complete success. In every
case, the release of the Beetles Is safely
accomplished: a few drops of water have
brought them the joys of the sun.

For the second time, Horapollo was right.
True, it Is not the mother, as the ancient
writer says, who throws her ball into the
water: it Is the clouds that provide the
liberating douche, it is the rain that brings
about the ultimate release. In the natural
state things must happen as In my experi-
ments. When the soil is burnt by the August
sun, the shells, baked like bricks under their
157

The Sacred Beetle and Others

thin covering of earth, are for most of the
time hard as stones. It is impossible for the
insect to wear away its casket and escape.
But let a shower come — that life-giving
baptism which the seed of the plant and the
family of the Beetle alike await within the
cinders of the earth — let a little rain fall;
and soon there will be a resurrection in the
fields.

The earth becomes soaked. There you
have the wet rag of my experiment. At its
touch, the shell recovers the softness of its
early days, the casket becomes yielding; the
insect makes play with its legs and pushes
with its back; it is free. It is in fact in
September, during the first rains that
herald autumn, that the Sacred Beetle leaves
his native burrow and comes forth to enliven
the pastoral sward, even as the former
generation enhvened it in the spring. The
clouds, hitherto so ungenerous, at last set
him free.

When the earth is exceptionally cool, the
bursting of the shell and the deliverance of
Its occupant can occur at an earlier period;
but in ground scorched by the pitiless summer
sun, as is usually the case In my district, the
Beetle, however eager he may be to see the
light, must needs wait for the first rain to
158

The Sacred Beetle: the Release

soften his stubborn shell. A downpour is
to him a question of life and death. Hora-
pollo, that echo of the Egyptian magi, saw
true when he made water play its part in the
birth of the sacred insect.

But let us drop the jargon of antiquity,
with its fragments of truth; let us not over-
look the first acts of the Scarab on leaving
his shell; and let us be present at his prentice
steps in open-air life. In August I break the
casket in which I hear the helpless captive
chafing. I place the insect, the only one of
its species, in a cage together with some
Gymnopleuri. There is plenty of fresh
food provided. This is the moment, said I
to myself, when we take refreshment after
so long an abstinence. Well, I was wrong:
the new recruit shows no interest in the
victuals, notwithstanding my invitations, my
summons to the tempting heap. What he
wants above all is the joys of the light. He
scales the metal trelliswork, sets himself in
the sun and there motionless takes his fill of
its beams.

What passes through his dull-witted
Dung-beetle brain during this first bath of
radiant brightness? Probably nothing. His
is the unconscious happiness of a flower
blossoming in the sun.

159

The Sacred Beetle and Others

At last the insect goes to the victuals. A
pellet is made in accordance with all the
rules. There is no apprenticeship: at the
first attempt, the spherical form is achieved
as accurately as after long practice. A
burrow is dug in which the bread just
kneaded may be eaten in peace. Here again
we find the novice thoroughly versed in his
art. No length of experience will add any-
thing to his talents.

His digging-tools are his fore-legs and
shield. To shoot the rubbish outside, he uses
the barrow, exactly like any of his elders,
that is to say, he covers his corselet with a
load of earth; then, head downwards, he
dives into the dust, afterwards coming for-
ward and depositing his load a few inches
from the entrance. With a leisurely step,
like that of a navvy with a long job before
him, he goes underground again to reload
his barrow. This work upon the dining-
room takes whole hours to finish.

At length the ball is stored away. The
front-door is shut; and the thing is done.
Bed and board secured, begone dull care!
All is for the best in the best of all possible
worlds. Lucky creature! Without ever
seeing it practised by your kindred, whom
you have not yet met, without ever learning
i6o

The Sacred Beetle: the Release

it, you know your trade to perfection; and
it will give you an ample share of food
and tranquillity, both so hard to achieve in
human life.

i6i

CHAPTER VIII

THE BROAI>NECKED SCARAB; THE
GYMNOPLEURI

WHAT we have learnt from the Sacred
Beetle must not lead us into rash
generalizations and make us attribute it in
of the essential theme are possible and are
the same family. Similarity of structure
does not entail similarity of instincts. A
common basis no doubt exists, resulting from
identity of equipment; but many variations
of the essential theme are possible and are
dictated by inherent aptitudes of which the
insect's organization gives us no inkling.
In fact, the study of these variations, of
these peculiarities, with their hidden reasons,
forms the most attractive part of the
observer's researches as he explores his
corner of the entomological domain. Un-
sparing of time and patience, sometimes of
ingenuity, you have at last learnt what this
one does. See now what that one does, his
near neighbour structurally. To what
extent does number two repeat the habits of
number one? Has he ways of his own,
162

The Broad-necked Scarab

tricks of the trade, industrial speciahties
unknown to the other? It is a highly in-
teresting problem, for the impassable line of
demarcation between the two species is much
more conspicuous in these psychological
differences than in the differences of the
wing-case or antenna.

The Scarab clan is represented in my
district by the Sacred Beetle {Scarabaeus
sacer, LiN.), the Half-spotted Scarab {S.
semipunctatus, Fab.) and the Broad-necked
Scarab {S. laticollis, LiN. ). The two
former are chilly creatures and hardly stir
from the Mediterranean; the third goes
pretty far north. The Half-spotted Scarab
does not leave the coast; he abounds on the
sandy beaches of the Golfe Juan, Cette and
Palavas. I have, in my time, admired his
prowess at pill-rolling, of which he is as
fervent a devotee as his colleague the Sacred
Beetle. Today, though we are old friends,
I cannot, to my great regret, give my
attention to him: we are too far away from
each other. I recommend him to any one
wishing to add a chapter to Scarab bio-
graphy: he also must have — I feel nearly
sure of it — peculiarities that are worth
noting.

And so, to complete this study, there re-
163

The Sacred Beetle and Others

mains in my immediate proximity only the
Broad-necked Scarab, the smallest of the
three. He is very rare around Serignan,
though widely distributed in other parts of
the Vaucluse. This scarcity deprives me of
opportunities for observing the insect in the
open fields ; and my only resource is to bring
up a few chance specimens in captivity.

Behind the wire-gauze of his prison, the
Broad-necked Scarab does not display the
Sacred Beetle's athletic prowess nor his bold
and hasty temper. In his case, we see no
scuffles between robber and robbed, no pills
manufactured purely for art's sake, rolled
for a little while with wild enthusiasm and
then consigned to the rubbish-heap without
being employed at all. The same blood
does not flow in the veins of the two pill-
rollers.

Of a quieter disposition and less waste-
ful of his gleanings, the Beetle with the
broad corselet attacks discreetly the heap of
manna provided by the Sheep; he picks from
the best part some armfuls of material
which he makes into a ball; he attends to
his business without troubling the others or
being troubled by them. For the rest, his
methods are the same as those of the Sacred
Beetle. The sphere, which is always an
164

The Broad-necked Scarab

easier object to convey, is fashioned on the
spot before being set in motion. With his
wide fore-legs the Beetle pats and kneads
and moulds it, making it smooth and level by
adding an armful here and there. The
perfect roundness of the ball is achieved be-
fore it leaves the place.

When the requisite size has been obtained,
the pill-roller makes his way with his booty
to the spot where the burrow is to be dug.
The journey is affected exactly as it would
be by the Sacred Beetle. Head downwards,
hind-legs lifted against the rolling mechan-
ism, the insect pushes backwards. So far
there nothing new, save for a certain slow-
ness in the performance. But wait a little
while : soon a striking difference in habits will
separate the two insects.

As each pill is carted away, I seize It,
together with its owner, and place both on
the surface of a layer of fresh, close-packed
sand in a flower-pot. A sheet of glass
serves as a lid, keeps the sand nice and
cool, prevents escape and admits the light.
By interning each Beetle separately I am
saved from the mistakes which might arise
if I put them in the common cage, where a
number of my boarders are at work; and I
shall not risk ascribing to several what may
165

The Sacred Beetle and Others

be the performance of one alone. By this
solitary confinement, each individual Beetle's
work can be studied more easily.

The interned mother makes hardly any
protest against her servitude. Soon she is
digging the sand and disappears in it with
her pill. Let us give her time to establish
her quarters and to get on with her domestic
labours.

Three or four weeks go by. The Beetle
has not reappeared upon the surface, a proof
of her patient absorption in her maternal
duties. At last I remove the contents of the
pot, very carefully, layer by layer, until I
uncover a spacious burrow. The rubbish
from this cavity was heaped up on the
surface, forming a little mound. This is the
secret chamber, the gynaeceum in which the
mother now and for a long time to come
keeps watch over her budding family.

The original pill has disappeared. In its
stead are two little pears, elegantly shaped
and wonderfully finished: two, not one, as
I naturally expected from the information
already in my possession. They strike me
as being even more delicately and gracefully
rounded than the Sacred Beetle's. Perhaps
their tiny dimensions cause my preference:
maxime miranda in minimis. They measure
i66

The Broad-necked Scarab

33 millimetres in length and 24 millimetres
across their greatest width.^ Let us drop
figures and admit that the dumpy modeller,
with her slow and awkward ways, is the
artistic rival or even the superior of her
famous kinswoman. I expected to see some
clumsy apprentice; I find a consummate
artificer. We must not judge people by
appearances; it Is a wise maxim, even when
applied to insects.

If we examine the pot somewhat earlier,
it will tell us how the pear is made. I find
sometimes a perfectly round ball and a pear
without any traces of the original pill; some-
times a ball only, with a nearly hemispherical
remnant of the pill, a lump from which the
materials subjected to modelling have been
detached in one piece. The method of
work can be deduced from these facts.

The pill which the Scarab fashions on the
surface of the soil by taking armfuls from
the heap encountered is but a temporary
piece of work, which is given a round form
with the sole object of faciUtating its
transport. He gives his attention to it, no
doubt, but Is not unduly anxious about it;
all that he wants is that the journey should

1 1.28 X .93 inch. — Translator's Note.
167

The Sacred Beetle and Others

ibe effected without any crumbling of his
treasure or impediment in the rolling. The
surface of the sphere, therefore, is not
thoroughly treated; it is not compressed into
a rind or made scrupulously even.

Underground, when it is a question of
getting the egg's casket ready, the casket that
is to be both larder and cradle, it becomes
another matter. An incision is made all
round the pill, dividing it Into two almost
equal portions, and one half Is subjected to
manipulation, while the other lies just against
it, destined to receive the same treatment
later. The hemisphere worked upon is
rounded into a ball, which will be the belly
of the prospective pear. This time, the
modelling is performed with the nicest care:
the future of the larva, which also is exposed
to the dangers of overdry bread, is at stake.
The surface of the ball is therefore patted
at one spot after the other, conscientiously
hardened by compression and levelled along
a regular curve. The spherule thus ob-
tained possesses geometrical precision, or
very nearly so. Let us not forget that this
difficult work is accomplished without roUIng,
as the clean condition of the surface shows.

The rest of the business may be guessed
from the proceedings of the Sacred Beetle.
i68

The Broad-necked Scarab

The sphere Is hollowed into a crater and
becomes a sort of bulging, shallow pot.
The lips are drawn out into a pocket which
receives the egg. The pocket is closed,
polished outside and joined neatly to the
sphere. The pear is finished. The other
half of the pill is now similarly treated.

The notable feature of this work is the
elegant regularity of the forms obtained
without any rolling. Chance enables me to
add another and a most striking proof to the
many that I have given of this modeUing
done on the spot. Once and once only I
managed to get from the Broad-necked
Scarab two pears closely soldered together
by their bellies and lying in opposite direc-
tions. The first one constructed can teach us
nothing new, but the second tell us this : when,
for a reason that is not apparent, lack of
room, perhaps, the insect left this second pear
touching the other and soldered it to its
neighbour while working at it, obviously,
with this appendage, any rolling or any mo-
ving became impracticable. Nevertheless,
the pretty shape was secured to perfection.

From the point of view of instinct, the

distinguishing features which make of the

two pear-modellers two entirely different

species are absolutely clear from these details

169

The Sacred Beetle and Others

and much more conclusive than the peculiari-
ties in the corselet and wing-case. The
Sacred Beetle's burrow never contains more
than one pear. The Broad-necked Scarab's
contains two. I even suspect that there are
sometimes three, when the haul is a large
one : we shall learn more on this subject from
the Copres. The first, when she gets her pill
underground, uses it just as she obtained it in
the workyard and does not subdivide it at all.
The second breaks up hers, though it is a
little smaller, into two equal parts and fa-
shions each half into a pear. The single ball
gives place to two and sometimes even per-
haps to three. If the two Dung-beetles have
a common origin, I should like to know how
this radical difference in their domestic
economy declared itself.

The story of the Gymnopleuri is the same
as that of the Scarabs, on a more modest
scale. To pass it over in silence, for fear
of too much sameness, would be to deprive
ourselves of evidence calculated to confirm
certain theories whose truth is established by
the recurrence of similar facts. Let us set
it forth, in an abridged form.

The Gymnopleurus family owes its name
to a lateral notch in the wing-cases, which
leaves a part of the sides bare. It is
170

The Gymnopleuri

represented In France by two species. One,
with smooth wing-cases (G. pilularius, Fab.),
is fairly common everywhere; the other (G.
flagellatus, Fab.), stippled on the top with
httle holes, as though the insect had been
pitted with small-pox, is rarer and prefers
the south. Both species abound in the
pebbly plains of my neighbourhood, where
the Sheep pass amid the lavender and thyme.
Their shape is not unlike that of the Sacred
Beetle; but they are much smaller. For the
rest, they have the same habits, the same
fields of operation, the same nesting-period:
May and June, down to July.

Applying themselves to similar labours,
Gymnopleuri and Scarabs are brought into
each other's society rather by the force of
things than by the love of company. I not
infrequently see them settling next door to
each other; I even oftener find them seated
at the same heap. In bright sunshine the
banqueters are sometimes very numerous.
The Gymnopleuri predominate largely.

One would be inclined to think that these
insects, endowed with powers of nimble and
sustained flight, explore the country in
swarm and that, when they find rich plunder,
they all swoop down upon it at once. Though
the sight of so large a crowd might seem
171

The Sacred Beetle and Others

to mean something of the kind, I am very
sceptical about these expeditions in large
squadrons. I am more ready to beheve that
the Gymnopleuri have come, from every-
where in the neighbourhood, one by one,
guided by keenness of scent. What I see is
a gathering of individuals who have hastened
from every point of the compass and not the
halt of a swarm engaged on a common
search. No matter: the teeming colony is at
times so numerous that it would be possible
to pick up the Gymnopleuri by handfuls.

But they hardly give one time. When
the peril is realized, which soon happens,
most of them fly off with all speed; the others
crouch low and hide themselves under the
heap. In a moment the tumult of activity
is succeeded by absolute stillness. The
Sacred Beetle is not subject to these sudden
attacks of panic, which empty the busiest yard
in the twinkling of an eye. When surprised
at 'his task and examined at close quarters,
however importunately, he impassively con-
tinues his work. He knows no fear. Here
we see a thorough difference in temperament
between insects which are identical in struc-
ture and which follow the same trade.

The difference is equally marked in an-
other respect: the Sacred Beetle is a fervent
172

The Gymnopleuri

pill-roller. When the ball is made, his
supreme felicity, his siimma voluptas, is to
cart it backwards for hours at a time, to
juggle with it, so to speak, under a blazing
sun. His epithet pilularius notwithstanding,
the Gymnopleurus does not show so much
enthusiasm over a round pellet. Unless he
means to feed upon it quietly in a burrow or
to use it as a ration for his larva, he never
kneads a ball only to roll it about ecstatically
and then abandon it when this violent exer-
cise has given him his fill of pleasure.

Both in his wild state and in captivity, the
Gymnopleurus makes his meal on the spot
where he finds his food; it is hardly his habit
to make a round loaf in order to consume it
afterwards in some underground retreat.
[The pill to which the insect owes its name is
rolled, so far as I have seen, only in the
interests of its family.

The mother takes from the heap the
amount of material required for rearing a
larva and kneads it into a ball at the spot
where it is gathered. Then, going back-
wards, with her head down, like the Scarabs,
she rolls it and finally stores it In a burrow.
In order to give it the necessary treatment
for the egg to thrive.

Of course the rolling ball never contains
173

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the egg. The laying takes place not on the
public highway but in the privacy of the sub-
soil. A burrow is dug, two or three inches
deep at most. It is spacious in proportion
to its contents, proving that the Sacred
Beetle's studio-work is repeated by the
Gymnopleurus. I am speaking of that
modelling in which the artist must have
full liberty of movement. When the egg is
laid, the cell remains empty; only the pass-
age is filled up, as witness the little mound
outside, the surplus of the unreplaced
refuse.

A minute's digging with my pocket-trowel
and the humble cabin is laid bare. The
mother is often present, occupied in some
trifling household duties before quitting the
cell for good. In the middle of the room
lies her work, the cradle of the germ and the
ration of the coming larva. Its shape and
size are those of a Sparrow's egg; and here
I am speaking of both Gymnopleuri, whose
habits and labours are so much alike that
I need not distinguish between them. Un-
less we found the mother beside it, we
should be unable to tell whether the ovoid
which we have dug up is the work of the
smooth or of the pock-marked insect. At
most, a slight advantage in size might point
174

The Gymnopleuri

to the former; and even so this characteristic
is far from trustworthy.

The egg-shape, with its two unequal ends,
one large and round, the other more pointed,
shaped like an eUiptical nipple, or even
drawn out into the neck of a pear, confirms
the conclusions with which we are already
acquainted. An outline of this kind is not
obtained by rolling, which is only reconcil-
able with a sphere. To get it, the mother
must knead her lump of stuff. This may be
already more or less round, as the result of
the work done in the yard where it came
from and of the carting, or it may still be
shapeless, if the heap was near enough to
allow of immediate storing. In short, once
at home, she acts like the Sacred Beetle and
does modelling-work.

The material lends itself well to this. Ta-
ken from the most plastic stuff supplied by
the Sheep, It Is shaped as easily as clay. In
this way, the graceful, firm, polished ovoid is
obtained, a work of art like the pear and as
exquisite in Its soft curve as a bird's egg.

Where, Inside it. Is the insect's germ? If
we argued rightly when discussing the
Sacred Beetle, if really the questions of
ventilation and warmth demand that the
egg be as near as possible to the surrounding
175

The Sacred Beetle and Others

atmosphere, while remaining protected by a
rampart, it is evident that the egg must be
installed at the small end of the ovoid, behind
a thin defensive wall.

And this in fact is where it lies, lodged
in a tiny hatching-chamber and wrapped on
every side in a blanket of air, which is easily
renewed through a slender partition and a
matted plug. This position did not surprise
me; from what the Sacred Beetle had already
taught me I expected It. The point of my
knife, this time no novice, went straight to
the ovold's pointed teat and scratched. The
egg appeared, magnificently confirming the
argument which had at first been merely sus-
pected, then dimly seen and finally changed
into certainty by the recurrence of the fun-
damental facts under varying conditions.

Scarabs and Gymnopleuri are modellers
who were not educated in the same school;
they differ in the outline of their masterpiece.
With the same materials, the first manu-
facture pears, the second for the most part
ovoids; and yet, despite this divergence, they
both conform to the essential conditions de-
manded by the egg and by the grub. The
grub wants provisions that are not liable to
become prematurely dry. This condition is
fulfilled, so far as may be, by giving the mass
176

The Gymnopleuri

a round shape, which evaporates less quickly
because of its smaller surface. The egg
requires unrestricted air and the heat of the
sun's rays, conditions which are fulfilled in
the one case by the pear with its neck and in
the other by the ovoid with its pointed end.

Laid in June, the egg of either species of
Gymnopleuri hatches in less than a week.
The average is five or six days. Any one
who has seen the larva of the Sacred Beetle
knows, so far as essentials go, the larva of
the two small pill-rollers. In each case It is
a big-bellied grub, curved into a hook and
carrying a hump or knapsack which contains
a portion of the mighty digestive apparatus.
The body is cut off slantwise at the back
and forms a stercoral trowel, denoting habits
similar to those of the Sacred Beetle's larva.

We see repeated. In fact, the pecularities
described in the story of the big pill-roller.
In the larval state, the Gymnopleuri also are
great excreters, ever ready with mortar to
make good the imperilled dweUing. They
instantly repair the breaches which I make,
either to observe them in the privacy of their
home or to provoke their plasterlng-industry.
They fill up the chinks with putty, solder the
parts that become disjointed, mend the
broken cell. When the nymphosis ap-
177

The Sacred Beetle and Others

proaches, the mortar that remains is ex-
pended in a layer of stucco, which reinforces
and polishes the inner walls.

The same dangers give rise to the
same defensive methods. Like the Sacred
Beetles', the shell of the Gymnopleuri is
liable to crack. The free admission of air
to the interior would have disastrous con-
sequences, by drying the food, which must
keep soft until the grub has attained its full
growth. An intestine which is never empty
and which displays unparalleled docility gets
the threatened grub out of its trouble.
There is no need to enlarge upon this point:
the Sacred Beetle has told us all about it.

The insects reared in captivity tell me that,
in the Gymnopleuri, the larva lasts seven-
teen to twenty-five days and the nymph fifteen
to twenty. These figures are bound to vary,
but within narrow limits. I shall therefore
fix both periods at approximately three
weeks.

Nothing remarkable happens during the
period nymphal. The only thing to be
noted is the curious costume worn by the per-
fect insect on its first appearance. It is the
costume which the Sacred Beetle showed us :
head, corselet, legs and chest a rusty red;
wing-cases and abdomen white. We may
178

The Gymnopleuri

add that, being powerless to burst his shell,
which has been turned Into a strong-box by
the heat of August, the prisoner, In order to
release himself, waits until the first September
rains come to his help and soften the wall.

Instinct, which under normal conditions
amazes us with its unerring prescience,
astonishes us no less with Its dense ignorance
when unaccustomed conditions supervene.
Each insect has Its trade, in which it excels,
its series of actions logically arranged.
Here It Is really a master. Its foresight,
though unwitting, here surpasses our deliber-
ate science; Its unconscious Inspiration is here
the superior of our conscious reason. But
divert It from its natural course; and forth-
with darkness succeeds the splendours of
light. Nothing will rekindle the extinguished
rays, not even the greatest stimulus that ex-
ists, the stimulus of maternity.

I have given many Instances of this strange
antithesis,^ which Is the death-blow to certain
theories; I find another and an exceedingly
striking one In the Dung-beetles whose story
I have now nearly finished telling. We are
surprised at this clear vision of the future

1 Cf. inter alia the author's Some Reflections upon Insect
Psychology, in The Mason-Bees, by J. Henri Fabre, trans-
lated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. vii. — Trans-
lator's Note.

179

The Sacred Beetle and Others

possessed by our manufacturers of spheres,
pears and ovoids; but we are no less surprised
by something totally different, namely the
mother's profound indifference to the nursery
which but now was the object of her tenderest
cares.

My remarks apply equally to the Sacred
Beetle and the two Gymnopleuri, all of whom
display the same admirable zeal when the
grub's comfort has to be assured and later,
with no less unanimity, the same indifference.
I surprise the mother in her burrow before
she has laid her eggs, or, if the laying be
over, before she has added those meticulous
aftertouches dictated by her exaggerated
conscientiousness. I instal her in a pot
packed full of earth, placing her on the
surface of the artificial soil, together with her
work, in its more or less advanced state.
In this place of banishment, provided that
it be quiet, there is not much hesitation.
The mother, who until now has held her
precious materials tight-clutched, decides to
dig a burrow. As the work of excava-
tion progresses, she drags her pellet down
with her, for it is a sacred thing with which
she must not part at any time, even amid
the difficulties of her digging. Soon the cell
in which the pear or the ovoid is to be
1 80

The Gymnopleuri

made is in existence at the bottom of the pot.

I now intervene and turn the pot upside
down. Everything is topsy-turvy; the en-
trance gallery and the terminal hall dis-
appear. I extract the mother and the pellet
from the ruins. Once more the pot is filled
with earth; and the same test begins all over
again. A few hours are enough to restore
the courage shaken by all this upheaval.
For the second time, the mother buries her-
self with the heap of provisions destined for
the grub. For the second time also, when
the estabhshment is finished, the overturning
of the pot unsettles everything. The experi-
ment is renewed. Persisting in its maternal
sohcitude, if necessary until its strength gives
way, the insect again buries itself together
with its sphere.

Four times over, in two days, I have thus
seen the mother Beetle bear up under the
devastation which I have wrought and start
afresh, with touching patience, on the ruined
dwelling. I did not think fit to pursue the
test. You feel some scruples in submit-
ting maternal affection to such tribulations
as these. However, it seems probable that,
sooner or later, the exhausted and bewildered
insect would have refused to go on digging.

My experiments of this kind are numer-

The Sacred Beetle and Others

ous; and they all prove that, when taken
from her burrow with her work unfinished,
the mother shows indefatigable perseverance
in burying and depositing in a place of
safety the cradle which has begun to take
shape though as yet untenanted. For the
sake of a pellet of stuff which the presence
of the egg has not yet turned into a sacred
thing, she displays exaggerated prudence and
caution, as well as amazing foresight. No
tricks of the experimenter, no all-upsetting
accidents, nothing, unless her strength be
worn out, can divert her from her object.
She is filled with a sort of indomitable obsess-
ion. The future of her race requires that
the lump of stuff should descend into the
earth; and descend it will, whatever happens.
Now for the other side of the medal.
The egg is laid; everything is in order under-
ground. The mother comes out. I take
hold of her as she does so; I dig up the pear
or ovoid; I place the work and the worker
side by side on the surface of the soil, In the
conditions that prevailed just now. This
assuredly is the right moment for burying the
pill. It contains the egg, a delicate thing
which a touch of the sun will wither in its
thin wrapper. Expose it for fifteen minutes
to the heat of the sun's rays; and all will be
182

The Gymnopleuri

lost. What win the mother do in this grave
emergency?

She does nothing at all. She does not
even seem to perceive the presence of the
object which was so precious to her yester-
day, when the egg was not yet laid. Zealous
to excess before the laying is over, she is in-
different afterwards. The finished work, no
longer concerns her. Imagine a pebble in
the place of the ovoid or pear: the mother
would treat it no better and no worse. One
sole preoccupation urges her: to get away.
I can see that by the manner in which she
paces the enclosure that keeps her prisoner.

That is instinct's way: it buries persever-
ingly the lifeless lump and leaves the quick-
ened lump to perish on the surface. The
work to be done is everything; the work done
no longer counts. Instinct sees the future
and knows nothing of the past.

183

CHAPTER IX

THE SPANISH COPRIS : THE LAYING OF
THE EGGS

IF we show instinct doing for the egg what
would be done on the advice oi reason
matured by study and experience, we achieve
a result of no small philosophic importance;
and an austere scientific conscience begins
to trouble me with scruples. Not that I
wish to give science a forbidding aspect:
I am convinced that one can say the wisest
things without employing a barbarous vo-
cabulary. Clearness is the supreme court-
esy of the wielder of the pen. I do my best
to observe it. No, the scruple that stops me
is of another kind.

I begin to wonder if I am not In this case
the victim of an illusion. I say to myself:

" Gymnopleuri and Sacred Beetles, when,
in the open air, are manufacturers of balls or
pills. That is their trade, learnt we know
not how, prescribed perhaps by their
structure. In particular by their long legs,
some of which are slightly curved. When

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

making preparations for the egg, what
wonder if they continue underground their
own ball-making speciality? "

If we leave out of the question the neck
of the pear and the projecting tip of the
ovoid, details much more difficult to explain,
there remains the most important part so far
as bulk is concerned, the globular part, a
repetition of the thing which the insect makes
outside the burrow; there remains the pellet
with which the Sacred Beetle plays in the
sunshine, sometimes without making any
other use of it, the ball which the Gymno-
pleurus rolls peacefully over the turf.

Then what is the object here of the
globular form, the best preventative of desic-
cation during the heat of summer? This
property of the sphere and of its near
neighbour, the ovoid, is an accepted physical
fact; but it is only by accident that these
shapes are the right ones to overcome that
difficulty. A creature built for rolling balls
across the fields goes on making balls under-
ground. If the grub fare all the better for
finding tender foodstuffs under its mandibles
to the very end, that is a capital thing for
the grub, but It is no reason why we should
extol the instinct of the mother.

So I argued, saying to myself that, before
185

The Sacred Beetle and Others

I was convinced, I should need to be shown
a Dung-beetle who was utterly unfamiliar
with the pill-making business in every-day life
and who yet, when laying-time was at hand,
made an abrupt change in her habits and
shaped her provisions into a ball. My
Dung-beetle would have to be a good fat
one too. Is there any such In my neighbour-
hood? Yes, there is; and she is one of the
handsomest and largest, next to the Sacred
Beetle. I speak of the Spanish Copris (C
hispanus, LiN.), who is so remarkable on ac-
count of the sharp slope of her corselet and
the disproportionate size of the horn sur-
mounting her head.

Round and squat, the Spanish Copris with
her ponderous gait Is certainly a stranger to
gymnastics such as are performed by the
Sacred Beetle or the Gymnopleurus. Her
legs, which are of insignificant length and
folded under her belly at the slightest alarm,
bear no comparison with the stilts of the
pill-rollers. Their stunted form and lack
of flexibility are enough in themselves to tell
us that their owner would not care to wander
about hampered by a rolling ball.

The Copris Is Indeed of a sedentary habit.
Once he has found his provisions, at night or
In the evening twilight, he digs a burrow
186

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

under the heap. It is a rough cavern, large
enough to hold an apple. Here is intro-
duced, bit by bit, the stuff that is just over
his head or at any rate lying on the threshold
of the cavern; here is engulfed, in no definite
shape, an enormous supply of victuals, bear-
ing eloquent witness to the insect's gluttony.
As long as the hoard lasts, the Copris, en-
grossed in the pleasures of the table, does
not return to the surface. The home Is not
abandoned until the larder is emptied, when
the insect recommences its nocturnal quest,
finds a new treasure and scoops out another
temporary dwelling.

As his trade is merely that of a gatherer
of manure, shovelling in the stuff without any
preliminary manipulation, the Copris is
evidently quite Ignorant, for the time being,
of the art of kneading and modelling a
globular loaf. Besides, his short, clumsy
legs seem utterly Irreconcilable with any such
art.

In May, or June at latest, comes laylng-
tlme. The Insect, so ready to fill its own
belly with the most sordid materials, becomes
particular where the portion of Its family Is
concerned. Like the Sacred Beetle, like the
Gymnopleurus, it now wants the soft produce
of the Sheep, deposited In a single slab.
187

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Even when abundant, the cake is buried on
the spot in its entirety. Not a trace of it
remains outside. Economy demands that it
be collected to the very last crumb.

You see: no traveUing, no carting, no
preparations. The cake is carried down to
the cellar by armfuls, at the very spot where
it lies. The insect repeats, with an eye to its
grubs, what it did when working for itself.
As for the burrow, whose presence is in-
dicated by a good-sized mound, it is a roomy
cavern excavated to a depth of some eight
inches. I observe that it is more spacious
and better built than the temporay abodes
occupied by the Copris at times of revelry.

But let us turn from the insect in its wild
state to the insect in captivity. In the former
case the evidence furnished by chance en-
counters would be incomplete, fragmentary
and of dubious relevancy; and we shall do
better to watch the Copris in my insect-house,
especially as she lends herself admirably to
this sort of observation. Let us observe the
storing first.

In the soft evening light, I see her appear
on the threshold of her burrow. She has
come up from the depths, she is going to
gather in her harvest. She has not far to
go : the provisions are there, outside the door,
i88

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

a generous supply which I am careful to
replenish. Cautiously, ready to retreat at
the least alarm, she makes her way to them
with a slow and measured step. Her shield
does the rummaging and dissecting, her
fore-legs are busy extracting. An arm-
ful, quite a modest one, is pulled away,
crumbling to pieces. The Copris drags It
backwards and disappears underground.
In less than two minutes, she is back again.
With feathery antennae outspread, she
warily scans the neighbourhood before cross-
ing the threshold of her dwelling.

A distance of two or three Inches separates
her from the heap of provisions. It is a
serious matter for her to venture so far.
She would have liked the victuals to be
exactly overhead, forming a roof to her
house. That would have saved her from
having to make these expeditions, which are
a source of anxiety. I have decided other-
wise. To facilitate observation, I have
placed the supplies just on one side. By
degrees the nervous creature is reassured;
it becomes accustomed to the open air and
to my presence, which, of course, I make as
unobtrusive as possible. Armful after arm-
ful goes down into the cellar. They are
always shapeless bits, shreds such as one
189

The Sacred Beetle and Others

might pick off with a small pair of pincers.

Having learnt what I want to know about
the insect's method of warehousing its
provisions, I leave it to its work, which con-
tinues for the best part of the night. On
the following days, nothing happens; the
Copris goes out no more. Enough treasure
has been laid up in a single night. Let us
wait a while and leave her time to stow away
her stuff as she pleases.

Before the week is out, I dig up the soil
in my insect-house and bring to light the
burrow whose victualling I have been watch-
ing. As in the fields, it is a spacious hall
with an irregular, elliptic roof and an almost
level floor. In a corner is a round hole,
similar to the orifice in the neck of a bottle.
This is the goods-entrance, opening on a
slanting gallery that runs up to the surface
of the soil. The walls of this house, which
was hollowed out of fresh earth, have been
carefully compressed and are strong enough
to resist any seismic disturbances caused by
my excavations. It is easy to see that the
Insect, toiling for the future, has put forth
all its skill, all its digging-powers, in order
to produce lasting work. The banqueting-
tent may be a hole hurriedly scooped out,
with irregular and none too stable walls, but
190

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

the permanent dwelling is of larger dimen-
sions and much more carefully built.

I suspect that both sexes have a share in
this architectural masterpiece; at least, I
often come upon the pair in the burrows
destined for the laying of the eggs. The
roomy and luxurious apartment was no doubt
once the wedding-hall; the marriage was
consummated under the mighty dome in the
building of which the lover had cooperated:
a gallant way of declaring his passion. I
also suspect him of lending his partner
a hand with the collecting and storing
of the provisions. From what I have
gathered, he too, strong as he is, shares
in this finicking work, collects his arni-
fuls and descends into the crypt. It is
a quicker job when there are two to help.
But, once the home is well stocked, he retires
discreetly, makes his way back to the surface
and goes and settles down elsewhere, leaving
the mother to her delicate task. His part in
the family-mansion is ended.

Now what do we find in this mansion, to
which we have seen so many tiny loads of
provisions lowered? A mass of small
pieces, heaped together anyhow? Not a bit
of it. I always find a single lump, a huge
loaf which fills the dwelling except for a
191

The Sacred Beetle and Others

narrow passage all round, just wide enough
to give the mother room to move.

This sumptuous portion, a regular
Twelfth-Night cake, has no fixed shape.
I come across some that are ovoid, suggest-
ing a Turkey's egg in form and size; I find
some that are a flattened eUipsoid, similar to
the common onion; I discover some that are
almost round, reminding me of a Dutch
cheese; I see some that are circular with a
slight swelling on the upper surface, like the
loaves of the Provencal peasant or, better
still, the fougasso a I'ioii with which he cele-
brates Easter. In every case, the surface Is
smooth and nicely curved.

There is no mistaking what has happened:
the mother has collected and kneaded into
one lump the numerous fragments brought
down one after the other; out of all those
particles she has made a homog^eneous thing,
by mashing them, working them together and
treading on them. Time after time I come
across the baker on top of the colossal loaf
which makes the Sacred Beetle's pill look so
insignificant; she strolls about on the convex
surface, which sometimes measures as much
as four inches across; she pats the mass,
makes it firm and level. I just catch sight
of the curious scene, for the moment she Is
192

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

perceived, the pastry-cook slips down the
curved slope and hides away under her cake.

For a further knowledge of the work, for
a study of its innermost detail, we shall have
to resort to artifice. There is scarcely any
difficulty about it. Either my long practice
with the Sacred Beetle has made me more
skilful in my methods of research, or else
the Copris is less reserved and bears the
rigours of captivity more philosophically: at
any rate, I succeed, without the slightest
trouble, in following all the phases of the
nest-making to my heart's content.

I employ two methods, each of them
adapted for enlightening me on some special
points. Whenever the vivarium supplies me
with a few large cakes, I take these out of
the burrows, together with the mother
Copris, and place them in my study. The
receptacles are of two sorts, according to
whether I want light or darkness. In the
former case, I use glass jars with a diameter
more or less the same as that of the burrows,
say four to five inches. At the bottom of
each is a thin layer of fresh sand, quite in-
sufficient to allow the Copris to bury herself
in it, but still serving the purpose of sparing
the insect the slippery foothold of the actual
glass and giving it the illusion of a soil
193

The Sacred Beetle and Others

similar to that of which I have just deprived
it. With this layer the jar becomes a suit-
able cage for the mother and her loaf.

I need hardly say that the startled insect
would not undertake anything while light
prevailed, no matter how dim and tempered.
It must have complete darkness, which I
produce by means of a cardboard sheath en-
closing the jar. By carefully raising this
sheath a little, I can surprise the captive at
her work whenever I feel inclined, the light
in my study being a shaded one, and even
watch operations for a time. The reader
will notice that this arrangement is much less
complex than that which I used when I
wished to see the Sacred Beetle engaged in
modelling her pear, the simpler method being
made possible by the different temperament
of the Copris, who is more easy-going than
her kinswoman. A dozen of these eclipsed
appliances are accordingly arranged on my
large laboratory-table. Any one seeing
them standing in a row would take them for
a collection of groceries in whity-brown
paper bags.

For my dark apparatus, I use flower-pots

filled with fresh, well-packed sand. The

mother and her cake occupy the lower part,

which is adapted as a niche by means of a

194

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

card-board screen forming a ceiling and
supporting the sand above. Or else I simply
put the mother on the surface of the sand
with a supply of provisions. She digs her-
self a burrow, does her warehousing, makes
herself a home; and things follow the usual
course. In all cases, I rely upon a sheet of
glass, which does duty as a lid, to keep my
prisoners safe. These different devices will,
I trust, give me Information on a delicate
point of which I will say more later.

What do the glass jars covered with an
opaque sheath teach us? A good many
things, all of them interesting, and this to
begin with: the big loaf does not owe Its
curve — which is always regular, no matter
how much the actual shape may vary — to
any rolling process. Our Inspection of the
natural burrow has already told us that so
large a mass could not have been rolled Into
a cavity of which it fills almost the whole
space. Besides, the strength of the Insect
would be unequal to moving so great a load.

From time to time I go to the jar for In-
formation and on every occasion the same
evidence is forthcoming. I see the mother,
hoisted on top of the lump, feeling here,
feeling there, bestowing little taps, smoothing
away the projecting points, perfecting the
195

The Sacred Beetle and Others

thing; never do I catch her looking as though
she wanted to turn the block. It is clear as
daylight : roUing has nothing whatever to do
with the matter.

The dough-maker's assiduity, her patient
care make me suspect an industrial detail
whereof I was far from dreaming. Why
so many aftertouches to the mass, why so
long a wait before making use of it? It is,
in fact, a week or more before the insect, still
busy with its pressing and polishing, makes
up its mind to do something with its hoard.

When the baker has kneaded his dough
to the requisite extent, he collects it into a
single lump in a corner of the kneading-
trough. The leaven will work better in the
depths of the voluminous mass. The Copris
knows this bakehouse secret. She heaps to-
gether all that she has collected in her
foraging; she carefully kneads the whole into
a provisional loaf and allows it time to im-
prove by virtue of an Internal process that
gives flavour to the paste and makes It of the
right consistency for subsequent manipula-
tions. As long as this chemical process
remains unfinished, both the baker and the
Copris wait. In the case of the insect, it
goes on for some time, a week at least.

At last it Is ready. The baker's man
196

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

divides his lump into smaller lumps, each of
which will become a loaf. The Copris does
the same thing. By means of a circular cut
made with the sharp edge of her shield and
the saw of her fore-legs, she detaches from
the mass a piece of the prescribed size.
With this stroke there is no hesitation, no
aftertouches adding a bit here and taking
off a bit there. Straight away and with one
sharp, decisive cut, she obtains the proper-
sized lump.

It now becomes a question of shaping it.
Clasping it as best she can in her short arms,
so little adapted, one would think, to work
of this kind, the Copris rounds her lump
of dough by means of pressure and of
pressure only. Gravely she moves about
on the still shapeless pill, climbs up, climbs
down, turns to right and left, above and
below; here she methodically applies a little
more pressure, there a little less, touching
and retouching with unvarying patience, and
finally, after twenty-four hours of It, the piece
that was all corners has become a perfect
sphere, the size of a plum. There, In her
crowded studio, with scarcely room to move,
the podgy artist has completed her work
without once shaking It on Its base; by dint
of time and patience she has obtained the
197

The Sacred Beetle and Othera

geometrical sphere which her clumsy tools
and her confined space seemed bound to deny
her.

For a long time the insect continues to
touch up its globe, polishing it affectionately,
passing its foot gently to and fro until the
least protuberance has disappeared. These
meticulous finishing touches seem endless.
Towards the end of the second day, however,
the sphere is pronounced satisfactory. The
mother climbs to the dome of her edifice and
there, still by simple pressure, hollows out
a shallow crater. In this basin the egg is
laid.

Then, with extreme caution, with a
delicacy that is most surprising with such
rough tools, the lips of the crater are
brought together so as to form a vaulted
roof over the egg. The mother turns
slowly, does a little raking, draws the stuff
upwards and finishes the closing-process.
This is the most ticklish work of all. A little
too much pressure, a miscalculated thrust
might easily jeopardize the life of the germ
under its thin ceiling.

Every now and then the mother suspends
operations. Motionless, with lowered fore-
head, she seems to be sounding the cavity
beneath, to be Hstening to what is happening

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

inside. All's well, it seems; and once again
she resumes her patient toil: the careful,
delicate scraping of the sides towards the
summit, which begins to taper a httle and
lengthen out. In this way, an ovoid with the
small end uppermost takes the place of the
original sphere. Under the more or less
projecting nipple is the hatching-chamber
with the egg. Twenty-four hours more are
spent in this minute work. Total: four
times round the clock and sometimes longer
to construct the sphere, scoop out a basin,
lay the egg and shut it in by transforming the
sphere into an ovoid.

The insect goes back to the cut loaf and
helps itself to a second slice, which, by the
same manipulations as before, becomes an
ovoid tenanted by an egg. The surplus
suffices for a third ovoid, sometimes even
for a fourth. I have never seen this number
exceeded when the mother had at her dis-
posal only the materials which she had
accumulated in the burrow.

The laying is over. Here is the mother
In her retreat, which is almost filled by the
three or four cradles standing one against
the other, pointed end upwards. What will
she do now? Go away, no doubt, to recruit
her strength a little in the open air after her
199

The Sacred Beetle and Odiers

prolonged fast. He who thinks so is mis-
taken. She stays. And yet she has eaten
nothing since she came underground, taking
good care not to touch the loaf, which,
divided into equal portions, will provide the
sustenance of the family. The Copris is
touchingly scrupulous where the children's
inheritance is concerned: she is a devoted
mother, who braves hunger rather than let
her offspring suffer privation.

She braves it for a second reason: to
mount guard around the cradles. From the
end of June onwards the burrows are
difficult to find, because the mounds dis-
appear through the action of storm or wind
or the feet of the passers-by. The few
which I succeed in discovering always contain
the mother dozing beside a group of pills, in
each of which a grub, now nearing its com-
plete development, feasts on the fat of the
land.

My dark appliances, flower-pots filled with
fresh sand, confirm what the fields have
taught me. Buried with provisions In the
first fortnight In May, the mothers do not
reappear on the surface, under the glass lid.
They keep hidden in the burrow after laying
their eggs; they spend the sultry dog-days
with their ovolds, watching them, no doubt,

200

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

as the glass-jars, with their freedom from
subterranean obscurity, tell us.

They come up again at the time of the
first autumnal rains, in September. But by
then the new generation has attained its
perfect form. The mother, therefore, en-
joys in her underground home that rare
privilege for an insect, the joy of knowing
her family; she hears her children scratching
at the shell to obtain their liberty; she is
present at the bursting of the casket which
she has fashioned so conscientiously; maybe
she helps the exhausted weaklings when the
ground has not been cool enough to soften
the walls. Mother and progeny leave the
under-world together; and together they ar-
rive at the autumn banquets, when the sun
is mild and the ovine manna abounds along
the paths.

The flower-pots teach us something else.
I place on the surface a few separate couples
taken from their burrows at the outset of the
building-operations. They are given a gene-
rous supply of provisions. Each couple
buries itself, settles down and starts hoard-
ing; then, after ten days or so, the male re-
appears on the surface, under the sheet of
glass. The other does not stir an inch.
The eggs are laid, the food-balls are shaped,

201

The Sacred Beetle and Others

patiently rounded and grouped at the bottom
of the pot. And all the time, so that he may
not disturb the mother in her work, the father
remains exiled from the gynaeceum. He
has gone up to the surface with the Intention
of leaving and digging himself a shelter else-
where. Being unable to do so within the
narrow confines of the pot, he stays at the
top, barely concealed from view by a modi-
cum of sand or a few scraps of food. A
lover of darkness and of the cool under-
ground depths, he remains obstinately for
three months exposed to the air and drought
and light; he refuses to go to earth, lest he
should interfere with the sacred things that
are taking pkce below. The Copris shall
have a good mark for thus respecting the
maternal apartments.

Let us come back to the jars, where the
events hidden from us by the soil are to be
enacted before our eyes. The three or four
pills, each with Its egg, stand one against an-
other and occupy almost the whole enclosure,
leaving only narrow passages. Of the
original lump very little remains, at the most
a few crumbs, which come in handy when
appetite returns. But that does not worry
the mother much. She is far more con-
cerned about her ovoids.

202

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

Assiduously she goes from one to another,
feels them, hstens to them, touches them up
at points where my eye can perceive no flaw.
Her clumsy, horn-shod foot, more sensitive
In darkness than my retina in broad daylight,
is perhaps discovering incipient cracks or de-
fective workmanship in the matter of con-
sistency which must be attended to, in order
to prevent the air from entering and drying
up the eggs. The prudent mother therefore
slips In and out of the narrow spaces between
the cradles, Inspecting them carefully and
remedying any accident, no matter how
trifling. If I disturb her, she sometimes rubs
the tip of her abdomen against the edge of
her wing-cases, producing a soft rustling
noise, which is almost a murmur of com-
plaint. Thus, between scrupulous care and
brief slumbers beside her group of cradles,
the mother passes the three months essential
to the evolution of the family.

I seem to catch a glimpse of the reason for
this long watch. The pill-rollers, whether
Scarabs or Gymnopleurl, never have more
than a single pear, a single ovoid in their
burrows. The mass of foodstuff, which at
times is rolled from a great distance, is
necessarily limited by the insect's own limita-
tions of strength. It is enough for one
203

The Sacred Beetle and Others

larva, but not enough for two. An excep-
tion must be made with respect to the Broad-
necked Scarab, who brings up her family
very frugally and divides her rolling booty
into two modest portions.

The others are obliged to dig a special
burrow for each egg. When everything is
in order in the new establishment — and this
does not take long — they leave the under-
ground vault and go off somewhere else,
wherever chance may lead them, to begin
their pill-rolling, excavating and egg-laying
once more. With these nomadic habits,
any prolonged supervision on the mother's
part becomes impossible.

The Scarab suffers by it. Her pear, which
is magnificently regular at the outset, soon
shows cracks and becomes scaly and swollen.
Various cryptogams invade it and under-
mine it; the material expands and the result-
ant splitting causes the pear to lose its shape.
We have seen how the grub combats these
troubles.

The Copris has other ways. She does not
roll her stores from a distance; she ware-
houses them on the spot, bit by bit, which
enables her to accumulate in a single burrow
enough to satisfy all her brood. As there
is no need for further expeditions, the mother
204

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

stays and keeps watch. Under her never-
failing vigilance, the pill does not crack, for
any crevice is stopped up as soon as It ap-
pears; nor does it become covered with
parasitic vegetation, for nothing can grow on
a soil that is constantly being raked. The
two or three dozen ovoids which I have be-
fore my eyes all bear witness to the mother's
watchfulness: not one of them is split or
cracked or Infested with tiny fungi. In all
of them the surface Is Irreproachable. But,
if I take them away from the mother to put
them into a bottld or tin, they suffer the same
fate as the Sacred Beetle's pears : In the
absence of supervision, destruction more or
less complete overtakes them.

Two examples will be instructive to us
here. I take from a mother two of her three
pills and place them In a tin, which prevents
them from getting dry. Before a week has
passed, they are covered with a fungous
vegetation. More or less everything grows
in this fertile soil; the lesser fungi delight
in It. To-day It Is an Infinitesimal crystalline
plant swollen Into a bobbin-shape, bristling
with short, dew-beaded hairs and ending In
a little round head as black as jet. I have
not the leisure to consult books and micro-
scope and give a name to the tiny apparition

20S

The Sacred Beetle and Others

which attracts my attention for the first time.
This botanical detail is of little importance :
all that we need know is that the dark green
of the pills has disappeared under the thick
white crystalline growth stippled with black
specks.

I restore the two pills to the Copris keep-
ing watch over her third. I replace the
opaque sheath and leave the insect un-
disturbed in the dark. In an hour's time or
less, I look to see how things are getting on.
The parasitic vegetation has entirely dis-
appeared, cut down, extirpated to the last
stalk. The magnifying-glass fails to reveal
a trace of what, a little while before, was a
dense thicket. The insect has used its rake,
those notched legs, to some purpose and the
surface of the pill is once more in the un-
blemished condition necessary for health.

The other experiment is a more serious
one. With the point of my pen-knife, I
make a gash in a pill at the upper end and
lay bare the egg. Here we have an artificial
breach not unlike those which might be
caused naturally, but of much greater size.
I give back to the mother the violated cradle,
threatened with disaster unless she Inter-
venes. But she does intervene and that
quickly, once darkness comes. The ragged
206

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

edges slit by the penknife are brought to-
gether and soldered. The small amount of
stuff lost Is replaced by scrapings taken from
the sides. In a very short time, the breach Is
so neatly repaired that not a trace remains of
my onslaught.

I repeat It, making the danger graver and
attacking all four pills with my desecrating
penknife, which cuts right through the
hatching-chamber and leaves the egg only
an incomplete shelter under the gaping roof.
The mother's counter-move is swift and
effective. In one brief spell of work every-
thing Is put right again. Yes, I can quite
believe that with this vigilant supervisor,
who never sleeps except with one eye open,
there is no possibility of the cracks and the
puffiness which so often disfigure the Sacred
Beetle's pear.

Four pills containing eggs are all that I
have been able to obtain from the big loaf
which I took from the burrow at the time
of the nuptials. Does this mean that the
Copris can lay only that number? I think
so. I even believe that usually there are
less, three, two, or possibly only one. My
boarders, installed In separate potfuls of sand
at nesting-time, did not reappear on the
surface once they had stored away the
207

The Sacred Beetle and Others

necessary provisions; they never came out to
dip into the replenished stock and enable
themselves to increase the always restricted
number of ovoids lying at the bottom of the
pot under the mother's watchful care.

This limitation of the family might very
well be due partly to lack of space. Three
or four pills completely fill the burrow; there
is no room for more; and the mother, a stay-
at-home alike from duty and inclination, does
not dream of digging another dwelling.
It is true that greater breadth in the one
which she has would solve the problem of
room; but then a ceiling of excessive length
would be liable to collapse. Suppose I were
myself to intervene, suppose I provided space
without the risk of the roof falling in, could
there be an increase in the number of eggs?

Yes, the number is almost doubled. My
trick is quite simple. In one of the glass
jars, I take away her three or four pills from
a mother who has just finished the last.
None of the loaf remains. I substitute for
it one of my own making, kneaded with the
tip of a paper-knife. A new type of baker,
I do over again very nearly what the insect
did at the beginning. Reader, do not smile
at my baking: science shall give it the odour
of sanctity.

208

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

My cake is favourably received by the
Copris, who sets to work again, starts laying
anew and presents me with three of her
perfect ovoids, making seven in all, the great-
est number that I obtained in my various
attempts of this kind. A large piece of the
bun remains available. The Copris does not
utihze it, at least not for nest-building; she
eats it. The ovaries appear to be exhausted.
This much is proved: the pillaging of the
burrow provides space; and the mother,
taking advantage of it, nearly doubles the
number of her eggs with the aid of the cake
which I make for her.

Under natural conditions nothing _ of a
similar kind can happen. There is no
obliging baker at hand, to shape and pat a
new cake and slip it into the oven that is the
Copris' cellar. Everything therefore tells
us that the stay-at-home Beetle, who makes
up her mind not to reappear until the cool
autumn days, is of very hmited bearing-
capacity. Her family consists of three or
four at most. Occasionally, in the dog-days,
long after laying-time is past, I have even
dug up a mother watching over a solitary pill.
This one, perhaps for lack of provisions,
had reduced her maternal joys to the narrow-
est limits.

209

The Sacred Beetle and Others

The loaves kneaded with my paper-knife
are readily accepted. We will take advant-
age of this fact to make a few experiments.
Instead of the big, substantial cake, I fashion
a pill which is a replica in shape and size
of the three or four which the mother is
guarding after confiding the egg to them.
My imitation is a fairly good one. If
I were to mix up the two products, the
natural and the artificial, I might easily fail
to distinguish between them afterwards.
The counterfeit pill is placed in the jar, be-
side the other. The disturbed insect at
once hides in a corner, under a little sand.
I leave it in peace for a couple of days.
Then how great is my surprise to find the
mother on the top of my pill, digging a cup
into it! In the afternoon, the egg is laid
and the cup closed. I can only tell my pill
from those of the Copris by the place which
it occupies. I had put it at the extreme right
of the group and at the extreme right I find
It, duly operated on by the insect. How
could the Beetle know that this ovoid, so like
the others in every respect, was untenanted?
How did she allow herself unhesitatingly to
scoop the top into a crater when, judging
by appearances, there- might be an egg just
underneath? She takes good care not to do

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

any fresh excavating on the finished pills.
What guide leads her to the artificial one,
which is extremely deceptive in appearance,
and bids her dig into that?

I do it again and yet again. The result is
the same: the mother does not confuse her
work with mine and takes advantage of the
presence of my pill to instal an egg in it.
On only one occasion, when her appetite
seems suddenly to have come back, did I see
her feeding on my loaf. But her discrimina-
tion between the tenanted and the untenanted
was just as clearly marked here as in the
previous instance. Instead of attacking, in
her hunger, the pills with eggs, by what
miracle of divination does she turn, in spite
of their exact outward similarity, to the pill
which contains nothing?

Can my handiwork be defective? Did
the wooden blade not press hard enough to
Impart the proper consistency? Is there
something wrong with the dough as the result
of insufficient kneading? These are dehcate
questions, of which I, who am no expert in
this kind of confectionery, am not competent
to judge. Let us have recourse to a master
of the pastry-cook's art. I borrow from the
Sacred Beetle the pill which he is beginning
to roll in the vivarium. I choose a small one,

211

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of the size affected by the Copris. True,
it is round; but the Copris' pills also are not
unseldom round, even after receiving the egg.

Well, the Sacred Beetle's loaf, that loaf
of irreproachable quality, kneaded by the
king of bread-makers, meets with the same
fate as mine. At one time it is provided
with an egg, at another it is eaten, while no
accident ever happens by mistake to the
exactly similar pills kneaded by the Copris.

That the insect, finding itself in this mixed
assembly, should rip open what Is still in-
animate matter and respect what is already a
cradle, that it should discriminate between
the lawful and the unlawful, in circumstances
such as these, seems to me incapable of
explanation, if there be no guide but senses
resembling our own. It Is useless to say
that It is a case of sight: the Beetle works
in absolute darkness. Even if she worked
In the light, that would not lessen the diffi-
culty. The shape and appearance of the pill
are alike In both Instances; the clearest sight
would be at fault once the pills were mixed

It is Impossible to suggest that smell has
anything to do with it: the substance of the
pill does not vary; It Is always the produce
of the Sheep. Impossible likewise to say

212

The Spanish Copris: the Eggs

that she Is exercising the sense of touch.
What dehcacy of touch can there be under
a coat of horn? Besides, the most exquisite
sensitiveness would be required. Even if we
admit that the insect's feet, particularly the
tarsi, or the palpi, or the antennae, or any-
thing you please, possess a certain faculty
for distinguishing between hard and soft,
rough and smooth, round and angular, still
our experiment with the Sacred Beetle's
sphere warns us to look where we are going.
There surely we had the exact equivalent of
the Copris' sphere — made of the same
materials, kneaded to the same consistency,
given the same outline — and yet the Copris
makes no mistake.

To drag the sense of taste Into the problem
would be absurd. There remains that of
hearing. Later on, I might not deny the
possibility of this having something to do
with it. When the larva Is hatched, the
mother, ever-attentive, might conceivably
hear it nibbling the wall of the cell, but for
the present the chamber contains merely an
egg; and an egg is alway silent.

Then what other means does the mother

possess, I will not say of thwarting my

machinations — the problem is on a loftier

plane and animals are not endowed with

213

The Sacred Beetle and Others

special aptitudes in order to dodge an experi-
menter's wiles — what other means does she
possess of obviating the difficulties attendant
upon her normal labours? Do not lose sight
of this: she begins by shaping a sphere; and
the globular mass often does not differ from
the pills that have received the egg, in re-
spect of either form or size.

Nowhere is there peace, not even below
ground. When, in a moment of panic, the
too-timid mother falls off her sphere and for-
sakes it to seek refuge elsewhere, how can
she afterwards find her ball again and
distinguish it from the others, without
running the risk of crushing an egg when she
is pressing in the top of a pill to make the
necessary crater? She needs a safe guide
here. What is that guide? I do not know.

I have said it many a time and I say it
again: insects possess sense-faculties of
exquisite delicacy attuned to their special
trade, faculties of which we can form no
conception because we have nothing similar
within ourselves. A man blind from birth
can have no notion of colour. We are as
men blind from birth In the face of the un-
fathomable mysteries that surround us; and
myriads of questions arise to which no answer
can ever be given.

214

CHAPTER X

THE SPANISH COPRIS : THE HABITS OF
THE MOTHER

THERE are two special points to be
remembered in the life-history of the
Spanish Copris: the rearing of her family;
and her pill-rolling talents.

First, the output of her ovaries is ex-
tremely limited; and nevertheless her race
thrives just as much as that of many others
whose seed is numerous. Maternal care
makes up for the small number of her eggs.
Prolific layers, after making a few rough and
ready arrangements, abandon their progeny
to luck, which often sacrifices a thousand in
order to preserve one; they are factories
turning out organic matter for life's compre-
hensive maw. Almost as soon as hatched,
or even before hatching, their offspring for
the most part perish devoured. Extermina-
tion makes short work of superfluity in the
interests of the community at large. That
which was destined to live lives, but under
another form. These excessive breeders
215

The Sacred Beetle and Others

know and can know nothing of maternal
affection.

The Copres have other and fundamentally
different habits. Three or four eggs repre-
sent their entire posterity. How are they
to be preserved, to a great extent, from
the accidents that await them? For them,
so few In numbers, as for the others,
whose name is legion, existence is an inexor-
able struggle. The mother knows it and, in
order to save her nearest and dearest, sacri-
fices herself, giving up out-door pleasures,
nocturnal flights and that supreme delight of
her race, the investigation of a fresh heap of
dung. Hidden underground, by the side of
her brood, she never leaves her nursery. She
keeps watch; she brushes off the parasitic
growths; she closes up the cracks; she drives
off any ravagers that may appear: Acari,^
tiny Staphylini,^ grubs of small Flies,
Aphodii,^ Onthophagi.^ In September, she
climbs to the surface with her family,
which, having no further use for her,
emancipates Itself and henceforth lives as it

1 Mites or Ticks. — Translator's Note.

2 Rove-beetles. — Translator's Note.

3 A genus of Dung-beetles. — Translator's Note.

4 Cf. Chapters XL, XVII. and XVIII. of the present vol-
ume.— Translator's Note.

2l6

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

pleases. No bird could be a more devoted
mother.

Secondly, the Copris' abrupt transforma-
tion at laying-time into an expert pill-maker
provides us, in so far as we are able to get
at the truth, with a proof of the theorem
which I was almost afraid to formulate just
now. Here is a Beetle not equipped for the
pill-roller's art, an art moreover which is not
required for her individual prosperity. She
has no aptitude, no propensity for kneading
the food which she buries and consumes as
she finds it; she is totally ignorant of the
sphere and its properties in connection with
food-preservation; and all of a sudden, in
obedience to an inspiration for which no-
thing, in the ordinary course of her hfe, has
prepared the way, she moulds into a sphere
or ovoid the legacy which she bequeaths to
her grub. With her short, clumsy fore-leg
she shapes the viaticum of her offspring into
a skilful solid mass. The difficulty is
great. It is overcome by dint of application
and patience. In two days, or three at most,
the round cradle is perfected. How does
the dumpy creature go to work to achieve
mathematical exactness in her ball? The
Sacred Beetle has her long legs, which serve
217

The Sacred Beetle and Others

as compasses; the Gymnopleurus has similar
tools. But the Copris, unprovided with the
spread of limb which would enable her to
encircle the object, finds nothing in her equip-
ment that favours the formation of a sphere.
Perched upon her ovoid, she labours at it bit
by bit with an intensity that makes up for
her defective implements; she estimates the
correctness of its curve by assiduous tactile
examinations from one end to the other.
Perseverance triumphs over clumsiness and
achieves what at first seemed impossible.

Here all my readers will assail me with
the same questions: why this abrupt change
in the Insect's habits? Why this indefati-
gable patience in a form of work that bears
no relation to the tools at hand? And what
is the use of this ovoid shape whose perfect-
ion demands so great an outlay of time?

To these queries I see only one possible
reply: the preservation of the foodstuffs in a
fresh condition demands the globular form.
Remember this: the Copris builds her nest in
June; her larva develops during the dog-
days; it lies a few inches below the surface of
the ground. In the cavern, which is now a
furnace, the provisions would soon become
uneatable, if the mother did not give them
218

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

the shape least susceptible to evaporation.
Very different from the Sacred Beetle in
habits and structure but exposed to the same
dangers in her larval state, the Copris, In
order to ward off the peril, adopts the prin-
ciples of the great pill-roller, principles whose
surpassing wisdom we have already made
manifest.

I would ask the philosophers to ponder
upon these five manufacturers of preserved
meats and the numerous rivals which they
doubtless possess in other climes. I sub-
mit to them these Inventors of the largest
(possible box with the smallest possible
surface for provisions liable to dry; and I
ask them how such logical Inspirations and
so much rational foresight can take birth in
the obscure brain of the lower orders of crea-
tion.

Let us come down to plain facts. The
Copris' pill is a more or less pronounced
ovoid, sometimes differing but slightly from
a sphere In shape. It is not quite so pretty
as the work of the Gymnopleurus, which is
very nearly pear-shaped, or at least reminds
one of a bird's egg, notably a Sparrow's, be-
cause of the similarity In size. The Copris'
work Is more like the egg of a nocturnal bird
219

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of prey, of any member of the Owl family,
as its projecting end does not stand out con-
spicuously.

From this pole to the other the ovoid
measures, on an average, forty millimetres
and thirty-four across.^ Its whole surface
is tightly packed, hardened by pressure, con-
verted into a crust with a little earth grained
into it. At the projecting end, an attentive
eye will discover a ring bristling with short
straggling threads. Once the egg is laid in
the cup into which" the original sphere is
hollowed, the mother, as I have already said,
gradually brings the edges of the cavity to-
gether. This produces the projecting end.
[To complete the closing, she delicately rakes
the ovoid and scrapes a little of the material
upwards. This forms the ceiling of the
hatching-chamber. At the top of this ceiling
which, if it fell in, would destroy the egg, the
pressure is very slight indeed, leaving an area
devoid of rind and covered with bits of
thread. Immediately under this circle,
which is a sort of porous felt, lies the hatch-
ing-chamber, the egg's little cell, which easily
admits air and warmth.

Like the Sacred Beetle's egg and those of
other Dung-beetles, the Copris' egg at once

1 1.56 X 1.32 inches. — Translator's Note.
220

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

attracts attention by its size, but it grows
much larger before hatching, increasing two-
or threefold in bulk. Its moist chamber,
saturated with the emanations from the
provisions, supplies it with nourishment.
Through the chalky porous shell of the
bird's egg, an exchange of gases takes place,
a respiratory process which quickens matter
while consuming it. This is a cause of de-
struction as well as of life: the sum total of
the contents does not increase under the in-
flexible wrapper; on the contrary, it
diminishes.

Things happen otherwise in the Copris'
egg, as in the other Dung-beetles'. We
still, no doubt, find the vivifying assistance
of the air; but there is also an accession of
new materials which come to add to the re-
serves furnished by the ovary. Endosmosis
causes the exhalations of the chamber to
penetrate through a very delicate membrane,
so much so that the egg is fed, swells and
enlarges to thrice its original volume. If we
have failed to follow this progressive growth
attentively, we are quite surprised at the
extraordinary final size, which is out of all
proportion to that of the mother.

This nourishment lasts a fairly long time,
for the hatching takes from fifteen to twenty

221

The Sacred Beetle and Others

days. Thanks to the added substance with
which the egg has been enriched, the larva
is already pretty big when born. We have
not here the weakly grub, the animated speck
which many insects show us, but a pretty little
creature, at once sturdy and tender, which,
happy at being alive, arches its back and
frisks and rolls about in its nest.

It is satin-white, with a touch of straw-
colour on its skull-cap. I find the terminal
trowel plainly marked: I mean that slanting
plane with the scalloped edge whereof the
Sacred Beetle has already shown us the use
when some breach in the cell needs repairing.
The implement tells us the future trade.
You also, my attractive little grub, will be-
come a knapsacked excreter, a fervent
plasterer manipulating the stucco supplied by
the intestines. But first I will subject you
to an experiment.

Now what are your first mouthfuls? As
a rule I see the walls of your nest shining
with a greenish, semifluid wash, a sort of
thinly-spread jam. Is this a special dish in-
tended for your delicate baby stomach? Is
it a childish dainty disgorged by the mother?
I used to think so when I first began to study
the Sacred Beetle. To-day, after seeing a
similar wash in the cells of the various Dung-

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

beetles, including the uncouth Geotrupes,^ I
wonder whether it is not rather the result
of a mere exudation accumulating on the
walls in a sort of dew, the fluid quintessence
filtering through the porous matter.

The Copris mother lent herself to observa-
tion better than any of the others. I have
many times surprised her at the moment
when, hoisted on her round pill, she excavates
the top in the form of a cup ; and I have never
seen anything that at all suggests a disgorge-
ment. The cavity of the bowl, which I lose
no time in examining, is just like the rest.
Perhaps I have missed the favourable
moment. In any case, I can take only a
brief glance at the mother's occupations:
all work ceases as soon as I raise the card-
board sheath to give light. Under these
conditions, the secret might escape me in-
definitely. Let us look at the difficulty from
another angle and enquire whether some
special milk-food, elaborated in the mother's
stomach, is necessary for the infant larva.

In one of my cages, I rob a Sacred Beetle
of her round pill, lately fashioned and briskly
rolled. I strip it at one point of its earthy
layer and into this clean point I drive the

1 Cf. Chapters XII. to XIV. of the present volume.—
Translator's Note.

223

The Sacred Beetle and Others

blunt end of a pencil, making a hole a third
of an inch deep. I instal a newly-hatched
Copris-grub in it. The youngster has not
yet taken the least refreshment. It is lodged
in a cell which in no respect differs from the
rest of the mass. There is no creamy coat-
ing, whether disgorged by the mother or
merely oozing through. What will result
from this change of quarters?

Nothing untoward. The larva develops
and thrives quite as well as in its native cell.
Therefore, when I first started, I was the
victim of an illusion. The delicate wash
which nearly always covers the egg-chamber
in the Dung-beetles' work is simply an exuda-
tion. The grub may be all the better for it,
when taking its first mouthfuls; but it is not
indispensable. To-day's experiment confirms
the fact.

The grub subjected to this test was put
into an open pit. Things cannot remain In
this condition. The absence of ceiling Is irk-
some to the young larva, which loves dark-
ness and tranquillity. How will it set to
work to build Its roof? The mortar-trowel
cannot be used as yet, for materials are lack-
ing in the knapsack which so far has done
no digesting.

Novice though It be, the little grub has
224

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

its resources. Since it cannot be a plasterer,
it becomes a bricklayer. With its legs and
mandibles it removes particles from the walls
of its cells and comes and places them one
by one on the rim of the well. The defensive
work makes rapid progress and the as-
sembled atoms form a vault. It has no
strength about it, I admit; the dome falls
in if I merely breathe on it. But soon the
first mouthfuls will be swallowed; the in-
testines will fill; and, well-supplied, the grub
will come and consolidate the work by inject-
ing mortar Into the Interstices. Properly
cemented, the frail awning becomes a solid
ceiling.

Let us leave the tiny grub in peace and
consult other larvae which have attained half
their full growth. With the point of my
penknife I pierce the pill at the upper end;
I open a window a few millimetres square.
The grub at once appears at the casement,
anxiously enquiring into the disaster. It
rolls itself over In the cell and returns to the
opening, this time, however, presenting its
wide, padded trowel. A jet of mortar is dis-
charged over the breach. The product is a
little too much diluted and of inferior quality.
It runs, it flows in all directions, it does not
set quickly. A fresh ejaculation follows and
225

The Sacred Beetle and Others

another and yet another, in swift succession.
Useless pains ! In vain the plasterer tries
again, in vain it struggles, gathering the
trickling material with its legs and mandibles :
the hole refuses to close. The mortar is still
too fluid.

Poor, desperate thing, why don't you copy
your young sister? Do what the little larva
did just now: build an awning with particles
taken from the wall of your house; and your
liquid putty will do well on that spongy
scaffolding! The large grub, trusting to its
trowel, does not think of that method. It
exhausts itself, without any appreciable re-
sult. In trying to effect repairs which the little
grub managed most ingeniously. What the
baby knew how to do the big larva no longer
knows.

Insect Industry has Instances like this of
professional methods employed at certain
periods and then abandoned and utterly for-
gotten. A few days more or less make
changes in the creature's talents. The tiny
grub, devoid of cement, has bricks to fall
back upon; the big larva, rich in putty, scorns
to build, or rather no longer knows how,
though it Is even better endowed than the
youngster with the necessary tools. The
strong one no longer remembers what as a
226

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

weakling he so well knew how to do, only
a few days before. A poor power of recol-
lection, if indeed there be such a power under
that flat skull 1 However, in the long run
and thanks to the evaporation of the ejected
materials, the short-memoried plumber ends
by stopping up the window. Nearly half a
day has been spent in trowel-work.

The idea occurs to me to try whether the
mother will come to the distressed one's help
in like circumstances. We have seen her
diligently repairing the ceiling which I
smashed above the egg. Will she do for the
big grub what she did for the sake of the
germ? Will she restore the rent pill in
which the plasterer is helplessly floundering?

To make the experiment more conclusive,
I select pills that do not belong to the mother
entrusted with the work of restoration. I
picked them up in the fields. They are far
from regular, are all dented because of the
stony soil on which they lay, a soil not easily
convertible into a roomy workshop and con-
sequently unsuited to exact geometry. They
are moreover encrusted with a reddish rind,
due to the ferruginous sand In which I packed
them in order to avoid dangerous jolting on
the road. In short, they differ a good deal
from those elaborated In a jar, with plenty
227

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of space around them and on a clean support,
pills which are perfect ovoids, free from
earthy stains. In the top of two of them
1 make an opening which the grub, faithful
to its methods, at once strives to stop up,
but without success. One, stored away
under a bell-glass, will serve me as a witness.
The other I place in a jar where the mother
is watching her cradles, two splendid ovoids.

I have not long to wait. An hour later,
I raise the cardboard screen. The Copris
is on the strange pill and so busily engaged
that she pays no attention to the daylight
admitted. In other, less urgent circum-
stances, she would at once have slipped
down and taken shelter from the trouble-
some light; this time, she does not move and
imperturbably continues her work. Before
my eyes she rakes away the red crust and
uses the scrapings from the cleansed surface
to spread over and solder the breach. It is
hermetically sealed In a very short space of
time. I stand amazed at the insect's skill.

Well, while the Copris is restoring a pill
that does not belong to her, what is the grub
that owns the other doing in the bell-glass?
It continues to kick about hopelessly, vainly
lavishing cement that is incapable of setting.
Put to the test in the morning, it does not
228

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

succeed until the afternoon in closing the
aperture; and then the job is anything but
well done. The borrowed mother, on the
other hand, has not taken twenty minutes to
remedy the accident most excellently.

She does even more. After the most
important part is finished and the afflicted
grub succoured, she stands all day, all night
and the next day on the newly-closed pill.
She brushes it daintily with her tarsi to get
rid of the layer of earth; she obliterates the
dents, smooths the rough places and adjusts
the curve, until from a shapeless and soiled
pill it becomes an ovoid vying in precision
with those which she had already manu-
factured in her glass jar.

Such care bestowed upon a strange grub
deserves attention. I must go on, I slip
into the jar a second pill, similar to the fore-
going, ruptured at the top, with an opening
larger than on the occasion, one about a six-
teenth of an Inch square. The greater the
difficulty, the more praiseworthy will the
restoration be.

It Is, Indeed, difficult to close. The grub,
a fat baby, is wildly gesticulating and excre-
ting through the window. Leaning over the
hole, its new mother seems to console it.
She is like a nurse bending over the cradle.
229

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Meanwhile her helpful legs are working with
a will, scratching around the yawning
aperture to obtain the wherewithal to stop it.
But the materials, half-dried this time, are
hard and unyielding. They are slow in
coming; and the quantity is too small for
so big a hole. No matter: what with the
grub continuing to shoot forth its putty and
the other mixing It with her own scrapings,
to give it consistency, and afterwards spread-
ing it, the opening closes up.

The thankless task has taken a whole
afternoon. It is a good lesson for me. I
shall be more careful In future. I shall
choose softer pills and, Instead of opening
them by removing the materials, I shall
simply lift the wall by shreds until the grub is
laid bare. The mother will only have to
flatten down those shreds and solder them to-
gether.

I act accordingly with a third pill, which
is very neatly repaired In a short time. Not
a trace remains of the ravages caused by my
penknife. I continue In the same way with
a fourth, a fifth and so on, at intervals long
enough to give the mother a rest. I stop
when the receptacle Is full, looking like a pot
of plums. The contents amount to twelve
pieces, of which ten have come from the out-
230

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

side, all ten violated by my penknife and all
restored to good condition by the foster-
mother.

There are some interesting sidelights to
this curious experiment, which I could have
continued if the capacity of the jar had per-
mitted. The Copris' zeal, which was not
lessened after the restoring of so many ruins,
and her diligence, which was the same at the
end as In the beginning, tell me that I had
not exhausted the maternal solicitude. Let
us leave It at that; it Is amply sufficient.

Observe first the arrangement of the pills.
Three are enough to occupy the floor-space
of the enclosure. The others are there-
fore gradually superposed In layers, making
in the end a four-story structure. The
whole forms an Irregular pile, an absolute
labyrinth with very narrow, winding lanes,
through which the Insect glides with some
difficulty. When her household is In order,
the mother stays below, under the pile, touch-
ing the sand. It Is at this moment that a new
broken cell Is Introduced, right at the top of
the pile, on the third or fourth floor. Let
us put back the screen, wait a few minutes
and then go back to the jar.

The mother Is there, hoisted on the torn
pill and doing her utmost to close It. How
231

The Sacred Beetle and Others

was she informed on the ground-floor of
what was happening in the attic? How
did she know that a larva up there was
calling for her assistance? The babe in dis-
tress screams and the nurse comes running up.
The grub says nothing; it makes no sound.
Its desperate gesticulations are not accom-
panied by any noise. And the watcher hears
this mute appeal. She notices the silence,
she sees the invisible. I am bewildered,
every one would be bewildered by the mystery
of these perceptions which are so foreign
to our nature and which " topsy turvy the
understanding," as Montaigne would say.
Let us pass on.

I have described elsewhere ^ the brutality
with which the Bee, that most gifted of in-
sects, treats the eggs of her fellows. Osmiae,
Chalicodomae and others perpetrate atroci-
ties at times. In a moment of vengeance or
of that inexplicable aberration which occurs
after the laying is finished, a sister's egg,
savagely torn from the cell with the pincers
of the mandibles, is flung Into the dust-bin.
The thing is pitilessly crushed, Is ripped open,
Is even eaten. How different from the good-
natured Coprls!

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

232

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

Shall we attribute altruism among families
to the Dung-beetle? Shall we do her the
signal honour of allowing that she ad-
ministers relief to foundlings? That would
be madness. The mother who so diligently
assists the children of others thinks, beyond
a doubt, that she is working for her own,
[The victim of my experiment had two pills
that belonged to her; my intervention gave
her ten more. And in the jar filled with
prunes to the top, her assiduous care draws
no distinction between the real household
and the casual family. Her intellect there-
fore is incapable of the most elementary con-
ception of quantity; she cannot even dis-
tinguish between the singular and the plural,
the few and the many.

Can it be because of the darkness? No,
for my frequent visits give the Copris an op-
portunity, when the opaque screen is lifted,
of looking around her and discovering the
strange accumulation, that is If light be really
the guide which she lacks. Besides, has she
not another means of information? In the
natural burrow, the pills, three or at most
four in number, all lie on the ground, forming
one row only. With my additions, they pile
up into four stories.

In order to clamber to the top, in order
233

The Sacred Beetle and Others

to hoist herself up through such a maze as
never Copris mansion knew before, the
Beetle must rub against and touch the units
of the heap. But she counts none the better
for that. To the insect all this is just the
home, is just the family, worthy of the same
care at the summit as at the base. The
twelve produced by my trickery and the two
of her own laying are the same thing in her
arithmetic.

I present this strange mathematician to any
one who comes and talks to me of a glimmer
of reason in the insect, as Darwin claimed.
It is one of two things: either this glimmer
does not exist, or else the Copris reasons
divinely and becomes a St. Vincent de Paul
of insects, moved to pity by the sad lot of the
homeless. Make your choice.

It is possible that, rather than abandon the
principle, perhaps men will not shrink from
folly and that the compassionate Copris will
one day figure in the evolutionists' Book of
Moral Deeds. Why not? Does it not al-
ready, with an eye to the same argument, con-
tain a certain tender-hearted Boa Constrictor
who, on losing his master, lay down and died
of grief? Oh, the fond reptile! These
edifying stories, compiled with the object of
tracing man back to the Gorilla, procure me
234

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

a few moments of mild amusement when I
come across them. But we will not labour
the point.

Better that you and I, friend Cop'ris,
should speak of things that do not raise
storms. Would you mind telling me the rea-
son of the reputation which you enjoyed in
the days of antiquity? Ancient Egypt ex-
tolled you in pink granite and porphyry; she
venerated you, O my fair horned one, and
awarded you honours similar to the Scarab's !
You ranked second in the entomological
hierarchy.

Horapollo tells us of two Sacred Beetles
with horns. One sported a single specimen
on her head, the other had two. The first
is you, the inmate of my glass jars, or at least
some one very like you. If Egypt had
known what you have just taught me, she
would certainly have placed you above the
Scarab, that roving pill-roller who deserts
her home and leaves her family, after it has
received its inheritance, to shift for itself as
best it can. Knowing nothing of your
wonderful habits, which history is noting for
the first time, she deserves all the greater
praise for having divined your merits.

The second, the one with two horns,
would, according to the experts, appear to
235

The Sacred Beetle and Others

be the Insect which the naturahsts call the
Isis Copris. I know her only in effigy, but
her image is so striking that I sometimes
catch myself dreaming late in life, just as I
did in my youth, of going down to Nubia and
exploring the banks of the Nile, in order
to cross-examine, under some lump of Camel-
dung, the insect that is emblematic of Isis the
divine brooder, nature made fruitful by
Osiris, the sun.

Oh, simpleton ! Attend to your cabbages,
sow your turnips: that won't do you any
harm; water your lettuces; and understand,
once and for all, how vain are all our quest-
ionings when it is simply a matter of enquir-
ing into a muck-raker's sagacity! Be less
ambitious; confine yourself to setting down
facts.

So be It. fThere Is nothing striking to be
said of the larva, which is a replica of the
Sacred Beetle's, save for some minute details
which do not interest us here. It has the
same hump In the middle of Its back, the
same slanting truncature of the last segment,
expanding Into a trowel on the upper surface.
A ready excreter. It understands, though less
thoroughly than the other, the art of stopping
up breaches to protect itself from draughts.
236

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

The larval state covers a period of four to
six weeks.

At the end of July, the nymph appears,
first amber-yellow all over, next currant-red
on the head, horn, corselet, breast and legs,
while the wing-cases have the pale hue of
gum arable. A month later, by the end of
August, the perfect insect releases itself from
its mummy wrappers. Its costume, now
wrought upon by delicate chemical changes,
is quite as strange as that of the new-born
Sacred Beetle. Head, corselet, breast and
legs are chestnut-red. The horn, the epis-
toma and the denticulations of the fore-legs
are shaded with brown. The wing-cases are
a rather yellowish white. The abdomen is
white, excepting only the anal segment, which
is an even brighter red than the thorax. I
perceive this early colouring of the anal
segment, while the rest of the abdomen is
still quite pale, in the Sacred Beetles, the
Gymnopleuri, the Onthophagi, the Geo-
trupes, the Cetoniae ^ and many others.
Whence this precocity? One more note of
interrogation which will long stand awaiting
a reply.

A fortnight passes. The costume be-

1 Rose-chafers. — Translator's Note.
2Z7

The Sacred Beetle and Others

comes ebon-black, the cuirass hardens. The
insect is ready for the emergence. We are
at the end of September; the earth has drunk
in a few showers which soften the stubborn
shell and allow of an easy deliverance.
This is the moment, prisoners mine. If I
have teased you a little, at least I have kept
you in plenty. Your shells have hardened
in your cages and have become caskets which
your own efforts will never succeed in forcing
open. I will come to your aid. Let us
describe in detail how things happen.

Once the burrow is supplied with the
voluminous loaf out of which three or four
pilular rations are to be carved, the mother
does not appear outside again. Besides,
there is no provision made for her. The
heap stored away below is the family cake,
the exclusive patrimony of the grubs, who
will receive equal shares. For four months,
therefore, the recluse is without food of any
kind.

It is a voluntary privation. Victuals are
there, within reach, copious and of superior
quality; but they are intended for the larvae
and the mother will take good care not to
touch them : anything abstracted for her own
use would mean so much less for the grubs.
Gluttonous at the outset, when there was
238

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

ho family to consider, she now becomes very-
abstemious, even to the point of prolonged
fasting. The Hen sitting on her eggs for-
gets to eat for some weeks; the watchful
Copris mother forgets it during a third part
of the year. The Dung-beetle outdoes the
bird in maternal self-abnegation.

Now what does this self-sacrificing mother
do underground? To what household cares
can she devote the period of so long a fast?
My appliances provide a satisfactory answer.
I possess, as I have said, two kinds. One
consists of glass jars with a thin layer of sand
and a cardboard case to create darkness; the
other of large pots filled with earth and
closed with a pane of glass.

At any moment when I raise the opaque
sheath of the first, I find the mother now
perched upon the top of her ovoids, now on
the ground, half-erect, smoothing the bulging
curve with her fore-leg. On rarer occasions,
she is dozing in the midst of the heap.

The manner in which she employs her
time is obvious. She watches her treasure
of pills; her inquisitive antennae sound them
to discover what is happening inside; she
listens to the nurselings growing; she touches
up faulty spots; she polishes and repohshes
the surfaces in order to delay the desiccation
239

The Sacred Beetle and Others

within until the development of the inmates
is complete.

These scrupulous cares, cares occupying
every moment, have results which would
strike the attention of the least-experienced
observer. The egg-shaped vessels, or better
the cradles of the nursery, are wonderful in
their regular curves and in their neatness.
We see none of those chinks with a blob of
putty showing through, none of those cracks,
of those peeling scales, in short none of those
defects which, towards the end, nearly always
disfigure the Sacred Beetle's pears, handsome
though they be at the start.

The horned Dung-beetle's caskets could
not be better-shaped, even after they are
thoroughly dried up, if they had been worked
in plaster by a modeller. What pretty, dark-
bronze eggs they are, rivalling the Owl's in
size and form ! This irreproachable perfect-
ion, maintained until the shell is burst by
the emerging larva, is obtained only by in-
cessant touching up, interspersed at long
intervals with periods of rest during which
the mother composes herself for a nap at the
foot of the heap.

The glass jars leave room for doubt. It
is possible to say that the insect, imprisoned
in an impassable enclosure, stays in the midst
240

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

of its pills because it is unable to go else-
where. I agree; but there remains that
work of polishing and of continual inspection
about which the mother need not trouble at
all if these cares did not form part of her
habits. Were she solely anxious to recover
her liberty, she ought to be roaming rest-
lessly all round the enclosure, whereas I
always see her very quiet and absorbed.
The only evidence of her excitement, when
the raising of the cardboard cylinder sud-
denly produces daylight, is that she lets her-
self slide from the top of a pill and hides
in the heap. If I moderate the light, com-
posure is soon restored and she resumes her
position on the summit, there to continue the
work which my visit interrupted.

For the rest, the evidence of the apparatus
that is always in darkness is conclusive.
The mother buried herself in June in the
sand of my pots with copious provisions,
which are soon converted into a certain
number of pills. She is at liberty to return
to the surface when she pleases. She will
there find broad daylight under the big sheet
of glass which ensures me against her escape;
she will find food, which I renew from time
to time In order to entice her.

Well, neither the daylight nor the food,
241

The Sacred Beetle and Others

desirable though this must seem to be after
a fast so long extended, is able to tempt her.
Nothing stirs in my pots, nothing rises to
the surface until the rains come.

It is exceedingly probable that exactly the
same thing happens underground as in the
jars. To make certain, I Inspect some of my
appliances at different periods. I always
find the mother beside her pills, in a spacious
cave which gives free play to the watcher's
evolutions. She could go lower down in the
sand and hide anywhere she pleased, if rest
is what she wants; she could climb outside
and sit down to fresh victuals, if refreshment
became necessary. Neither the prospects of
rest in a deeper crypt nor the thought of the
sun and of nice soft rolls make her leave her
family. Until the last of her offspring has
burst his shell, she sticks to her post in the
birth-chamber.

It is now October. The rains so greatly
desired by man and beast have come at last,
soaking the ground to some depth. After
the torrid and dusty days of summer, when
life Is In suspense, we have the coolness that
revives It, we have the last festival of the
year. In the midst of the heath putting out
its first pink bells, the oronge ^ splits its white

1 Or imperial mushroom. For this and the purple bole-

242

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

purse and comes into view, looking like the
yolk of an egg half deprived of its albumen;
the massive purple boletus turns blue under
the heel of the passer-by who crushes it; the
autumnal squill lifts its little spike of lilac
flowers; the strawberry-tree's coral balls
begin to soften.

This tardy springtime has its echoes under-
ground. The vernal generations, Sacred
Beetles and Gymnopleuri, Onthophagi and
Copres, hasten to burst their shells softened
by the damp and come to the surface
to take part in the gaieties of the last fine
weather.

My captives are denied the friendly
shower. The cement of their caskets, baked
by the summer heat, is too hard to yield.
The file of the shield and legs would make
no impression on it. I come to the poor
things' assistance. A carefully graduated
watering replaces the natural rain in my glass
and earthenware pots. To ascertain once
more the effects of water on the Dung-
beetles' deliverance, I leave a few of the
receptacles in the state of dryness for which
they have to thank the dog-days.

tus, cf. The Life of the Fly, by J. Henri Fabre, translated
by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap, xviii. — Trans-
lator's Note.

243

The Sacred Beetle and Others

The result of my sprinkling soon becomes
apparent. In a few days' time, now in one
jar, now in another, the pills, properly soft-
ened, open and fall to pieces under the
prisoners' efforts. The new-born Copris ap-
pears and sits down, with his mother, to the
food which I have placed at his disposal.

When the hermit, stiffening his legs and
humping his back, tries to split the ceiling
that presses down on him, does the mother
come to his assistance by delivering an assault
from the outside? It is quite possible. The
watcher, hitherto so careful of her brood,
so attentive to what is happening within the
pills, can hardly fail to hear the sounds made
by the captive in his struggles to emerge.

We have seen her indefatigably stopping
the holes caused by my indiscretion; we have
seen her, often enough, restoring for the
grub's greater safety the pill which I had
opened with my penknife. Fitted by instinct
for repairing and building, why should she
not be fitted for demolishing? However, I
will make no assertions, for I have been un-
able to see. The favourable conditions
always escaped me: I came either too late
or too early. And then let us not forget that
the admission of Hght usually interrupts the
work.

244

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

In the darkness of the sand-filled pots, the
liberation must take place in the same way.
All that I am able to witness is the insect's
emergence above ground. Attracted by the
smell of fresh provisions which I have served
on the threshold of the burrow, the newly-
released family emerge gradually, accom-
panied by the mother, wander round for a
time under the pane of glass and then attack
the pile.

There are three or four of them, five at
most. The sons are easily recognized by the
greater length of their horns; but there Is
nothing to distinguish the daughters from the
mother. For that matter, the same con-
fusion prevails among themselves. An
abrupt change of attitude has taken place;
and the erstwhile devoted mother is now
utterly indifferent to the welfare of her
emancipated family. Henceforward each
looks after his own home and his own
Interests. They no longer know one an-
other.

In the receptacles which are not moistened
by artificial showers, things come to a miser-
able end. The dry shell, almost as hard as
an apricot- or peach-stone, offers indomitable
resistance. The insect's legs manage to
grate off barely so much as a pinch of dust.
245

The Sacred Beetle and Others

I hear the tools rasping against the unyield-
ing wall; then silence follows and not a
prisoner survives to tell the tale. The
mother too perishes in that home which has
remained dry when the season for dryness
has passed. The Copris, like the Sacred
Beetle, needs the rain to soften the granite
shell.

To return to the liberated ones. When
the emergence is effected, the mother, we
were saying, ceases to trouble about them.
Her present indifference, however, must not
make us forget the wonderful care which she
has lavished for four months on end. Out-
side the Social Hymenoptera — Bees,
Wasps, Ants and so on — who spoon-feed
their young and bring them up according to
scrupulously hygienic methods, where in the
insect world shall we find another example of
such maternal self-abnegation, of such wise
and tender care for the offspring? I know
of none.

How did the Copris acquire this lofty
quality, which I would readily call a moral
quality, if morality and nescience had any
point of contact? How did she learn to
surpass in tenderness the Bee and the Ant,
both so greatly renowned? I say surpass.
The mother Bee, indeed. Is simply a germ-
246

The Spanish Copris: the Mother

factory, a prodigiously fertile factory, I ad-
mit. She lays eggs; and that Is all. The
family Is brought up by others, real sisters of
charity these, vowed to celibacy.

The Copris mother does more In her
humble household. Alone and entirely un-
aided, she provides each of her children with
a cake whose crust, hardening and constantly
renovated with the maternal trowel, becomes
an inviolable cradle. So Intense Is her af-
fection that she neglects herself to the extent
of losing all need for food. Down In a bur-
row, for four consecutive months, she
watches over her brood, attending to the
wants of the germ, the grub, the nymph and
the perfect Insect. She does not return to
the glad outer life until all her family are
emancipated. Thus do we behold one of the
most brilliant manifestations of maternal In-
stinct In a humble dung-eater. The Spirit
breatheth where he will.

247

CHAPTER XI

ONTHOPHAGI AND ONITICELLI

AFTER the notabilities of the Dung-beetle
tribe, if we omit the Geotrupes, who
belong to a different clan, there remains,
within the very limited radius of my observa-
tion, the Onthophagus rabble, of which I
could gather a dozen different species around
my house. What will these small fry teach
us?

Even more zealous than their big com-
panions, they are the first that hasten to
exploit the heap left by the passing Mule.
They come in crowds and stay a long time
working under the spread table that gives
them shade and coolness. Turn over the
heap with your foot. You will be surprised
at the swarming population whose presence
no outward sign betrayed. The largest are
scarce the size of a pea, but some are much
smaller still; and these dwarfs are no less
busy than the others, no less eager to crumble
into dust the filth which, in the interests of
the public health, must be cleared away with
all speed.

248

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

For the more important work of life there
is nothing Hke the humble toilers for reali-
zing vast strength, made up of their joint
weaknesses. Swollen by numbers, the next
to nothing becomes an enormous total.

Hurrying in detachments at the first news
of the event, assisted moreover in their
sanitary work by their partners, the Aphodii,
who are as weak as they, the tiny Onthophagi
soon clear the ground of its dirt. Not that
their appetite is equal to the consumption
of such plentiful provisions. What food do
these pigmies need? A mere atom. But
for that atom, selected from among the
exudations, search must be made amid the
wisps of masticated fodder. Hence, an end-
less division and dissection of the lump, re-
ducing it to dust which the sun sterilizes and
the wind dispels. As soon as the work
is done — and very well done — the troop
of scavengers goes in search of another
refuse-yard. Except for the period of in-
tense cold, which puts a stop to all activity,
they are never idle.

And do not run away with the idea that
this filthy task entails an inelegant shape and
a ragged dress. Our squalor is unknown
to the insect. In its world, a navvy dons a
sumptuous jerkin; an undertaker decks him-
249

The Sacred Beetle and Others

self in a triple saffron sash; a wood-cutter
works in a velvet coat. In like manner, the
Onthophagus has his special gorgeousness.
True, the costume is always severe : brown
and black are the predominant colours, now
dull, now pohshed as ebony. That is the
general groundwork, but how chaste and
elegant are the decorative details !

One (O. lemur) has wing-cases of a light
chestnut colour, with a semicircle of black
dots; a second (0. nuchicornis) has similar
chestnut wing-cases covered with splashes of
Indian ink not unlike the square Hebrew
characters; a third (O. Schreheri) ^ who is a
glossy black like that of jet, decks himself
with four vermilion cockades; a fourth (O.
fiircatus) lights up the tip of his short wing-
cases with a gleam similar to that of dying
embers; many (O. vacca, O. ccsnohita and
others) have corselets and heads bright with
the metal sheen of Florentine bronze.

The graver's work completes the beauty
of the dress. Dainty chasing In parallel
grooves, delicate embroidery, knotty chaplets
are distributed in profusion among nearly all
of them. Yes, the little Onthophagi, with
their short bodies and their nimble activity,
are really pretty to look at.

And then how original are their frontal
250

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

decorations! These peace-lovers delight in
the panoply of war, as though they, the in-
offensive ones, thirsted for battle. Many of
them crown their heads with threatening
horns. Let us mention a couple of the
horned ones whose story will occupy us more
particularly. I mean, first, the Bull Ontho-
phagus (O. taurus), clad in raven black.
He wears a pair of long horns, gracefully
curved and branching to either side. No
pedigree bull, in the Swiss meadows, can
match them for curve or elegance. [The
second is the Forked Onthophagus (O.
furcatus), who is much smaller. His equip-
ment consists of a fork with three vertical
prongs.

There you have the two chief subjects of
this brief Onthophagus biography. The
others are equally worthy of being chroni-
cled. From first to last, they would all sup-
ply us with interesting details, some of them
even with peculiarities unknown elsewhere;
but we must draw the line somewhere In this
multitude, which is difficult to observe in the
aggregate. And there is this more serious
circumstance, that my choice has not been
free : I have had to content myself with the
few lucky discoveries made as the result of
chance encounters out of doors and with the
251

The Sacred Beetle and Others

few successful experiments made in the
vivarium.

Two species only, the two which I have
named, have proved satisfactory in both
directions. Let us watch them at work.
They will show us the principal features of
the manner of life led by the whole tribe,
for they occupy the two extremes of the scale
of sizes, the Bull Onthophagus being one of
the largest and the Forked Onthophagus one
of the smallest.

We will speak first of the nest. Contrary
to my expectation, the Onthophagi are in-
different nest-builders. With them we find
no spheres rolled joyously in the sunshine,
no ovoids manipulated laboriously in an
underground workshop. Their business,
that of reducing filth to dust, appears to give
them so much to do that they have no time
left for work demanding prolonged patience.
They confine themselves to what is strictly
necessary and most rapidly obtained.

A perpendicular well is dug, a couple of
inches deep, cylindrical in shape and varying
in bore according to the size of the well-
sinker. The pit of the Forked Onthophagus
has the diameter of a lead-pencil; that of the
Bull Onthophagus is twice the width. Right
at the bottom are the grub's provisions,
252

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

plastered against the walls in a tightly-packed
heap. The total lack of free space at the
sides of the pile show how the provisioning
is done. There is not a sign of a niche, of
the least corner that would leave the mother
enough liberty of movement to knead and
mould her bun. The material therefore is
simply pressed down at the bottom of the
cylindrical sheath, where it takes the shape
of a full thimble.

I dig up some nests of the Forked
Onthophagus near the end of July. It is a
crude piece of work, which surprises you by
its roughness when you think of the neat little
worker. Wisps of hay, sticking out any-
how, increase the untidy look of things.
The nature of the materials, supplied this
time by the Mule, are partly the cause of this
ugly appearance.

The length of these nests is fourteen
millimetres, the width seven.^ The upper
surface is slightly concave, proving that the
pressure has been exercised by the mother.
The lower end is rounded like the bottom of
. the well which serves as a mould. I take a
needle and with the point of it I pick the
rustic structure to pieces. The mass of
foodstuff occupies the base, forming the

1 ,546 X .273 inch.— Translator's Note.

253

The Sacred Beetle and Others

lower two-thirds of the thimble into a com-
pact block; the cell containing the egg is at
the top, under a thin, concave lid.

There is nothing fresh about the work of
the Bull Onthophagus, which, save for being
larger, differs in no way from that of the
Forked Onthophagus. I am unacquainted
with the insect's modus operandi. As re-
gards the inner secrets of nest-building, these
dwarfs are as reticent as their big colleagues.
One alone satisfied my curiosity, or nearly;
and then it was not an Onthophagus but a
kindred species, the Yellow-footed Oniti-
cellus (O. fiavipes) .

I capture her in the last week of July,
under a heap which a Mule employed in
treading out the corn on the thrashing-floor
dropped during a rest from work. The
thick blanket, transformed by a hot sun into
an incomparable incubator, shelters a host of
Onthophagi. The Oniticellus is by herself.
Her quick retreat down a yawning well at-
tracts my attention. I dig;^ to a depth of
about two inches and extract the lady of the
house together with her work, the latter in a
sadly damaged condition. I can, however,
distinguish a sort of bag.

I instal the Oniticellus in a tumbler, on a
layer of heaped earth, and give her as her
254

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

nest-building materials what the Sacred
Beetles and the Copres prefer, the Sheep's
plastic paste. Caught at the moment when
she was about to lay, goaded by the ir-
resistible needs of her ovaries, the mother
lends herself very obligingly to my wishes.
She lays four eggs in three days. This
rapidity, which would doubtless be even
greater if my curiosity had not disturbed her
in her task, is explained by the simplicity of
the work.

The mother goes to the lower surface of
the stuff which I have supplied and detaches
from the central and softest part a slice
sufficient for her plans, removing it all in one
piece, by means of a circular section. It is
the same method as that employed by the
Copris taking from her loaf the wherewithal
to make a pellet. There is a pit immediately
below, dug in advance. The Oniticellus
goes down it with her burden.

I wait half an hour, to give the work time
to take shape, and then turn the glass upside
down, hoping to surprise the mother in her
domestic business. The original little lump
is now a bag moulded by pressure against the
sides of the well. The mother is at the
bottom, motionless, bewildered by my dis-
turbing visit and the intrusion of light. [To
255

The Sacred Beetle and Others

see her working with her forehead and legs
in order to spread the matter, crush it and
apply it to its earthen sheath seems to me a
very difficult thing to do. I abandon the at-
tempt and restore the glass to its first posi-
tion.

A little later, I make a second examina-
tion, when the mother has left her burrow.
The work is now finished. The outward
form is that of a thimble fifteen millimetres
deep by ten wide.^ The flat end has all the
appearance of a lid fitted to the opening and
carefully soldered on. The rounded lower
half of the thimble is full. This is the grub's
larder. Above is the hatching-chamber, with
the egg sticking up from the floor, fixed
perpendicularly by one end.

Great is the danger for the Oniticellus and
the Onthophagus, offspring of the dog-days,
both of them. Their jar of preserves is
greatly restricted in volume. Its shape is in
no way calculated to reduce evaporation; it
Is too near the surface of the soil to escape
the dangerous dryness of the air. If the
cake should harden, the grub will die, after
its abstinence has been prolonged to the ut-
most limits of endurance.

I place in glass tubes, which will represent

1 .585 X .39 inch. — Translator's Note.
256

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

the native well, a few Onthophagus- and
Oniticellus-thlmbles, first contriving an open-
ing in the side which will enable me to see
what happens within. I close the tubes with
a plug of cotton and keep them in a shady
part of my study. Evaporation must be
very slight in these impermeable and more-
over plugged sheaths. Nevertheless it is
enough to produce in a few days a degree
of dryness which is fatal to feeding.

I see the starvelings remain motionless,
unable to bite into the hateful crust; I see
them lose their plumpness, I see them wrinkle
and shrivel and at last, in a fortnight's time,
take on all the appearance of death. I re-
place the dry cotton with wet cotton. The
atmosphere in the tubes becomes damp; the
thimbles are gradually saturated with the
moisture, swell out and soften; and the dying
come back to life. They do so to such good
purpose that the whole cycle of the meta-
morphoses is safely accomplished, on condi-
tion that the wet cotton be renewed from time
to time.

My carefully-graduated artificial shower,
with its damped cotton to represent the
clouds, inspires that return to life. It is like
a resurrection. In the normal conditions
prevailing in the torrid, rain-grudging month
^ 257

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of August, the probability of an equivalent
of that shower is almost nil. How then is
the fatal drying-up of the victuals avoided?
To begin with, there are, so it seems to me,
certain gifts bestowed on these little ones so
inadequately protected by their mother's in-
dustry against the enemy, drought. I have
seen Onthophagus- and Oniticellus-larvae
recover their appetite, their plumpness and
their vigour under the wet cotton, after a
three weeks' fast that had reduced them to
a wrinkled pilule. This faculty of endurance
has its uses : it enables the possessor to await,
in a state of lethargy akin to death, the few,
very uncertain drops of rain that will put an
end to the famine. It comes to the grub's
rescue, but it is not sufficient: the prosperity
of a race cannot be based upon privation.

There is something more, therefore; and
this Is furnished by the mother's instinct.
Whereas the manufacturers of pears and
ovoids always dig their burrow at an open
spot, with no other protection than the mound
of earth flung up, the makers of little
thimbles bore their well directly under the
material exploited and go by preference to
the voluminous droppings of the Horse and
the Mule. Under this thick mattress, the
258

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

soil, protected against sun and wind, keeps
fresh and damp for some little time, steeped
as it is in the moisture from the dung.

For that matter, the danger does not last
long. The egg yields up the grub in less
than a week; and the larva attains its full
development within a dozen days or so, if
nothing untoward happens. This makes
about twenty days in all for the critical period
of the Onthophagus and the Onlticellus.
What does it matter if the walls of the
emptied thimble do dry after that! The
nymph will be all the better off in a solid
casket, which will easily crumble to bits later,
when, with the first September rains, the in-
sect effects its release.

In appearance and habits the grub re-
sembles that which the Sacred Beetle and the
others have introduced to us. It possesses
the same aptitude for defending the cell
against the dangerous intrusion of the dry
air; the same zeal, the same nimbleness in
cementing the least breach v/ith the putty
of the intestines; the same knapsack hunching
the middle of the back.

The grub of the Onlticellus has the most
remarkable hump of all. Would you care
to have a quick and yet a faithful sketch of
259

The Sacred Beetle and Others

it? Draw a short, wrinkled sausage.
About the middle of this sausage, on the side,
graft an appendix. There you have the
beast, in three almost equal parts. The
lower portion is the abdomen; the upper,
where you are at first incHned to look for
the head, so clearly does it appear to be a
continuation of the part below, is the hump,
the inordinate, extravagant hump, bigger
than caricaturist ever dared conceive in the
wildest flights of his imagination. It oc-
cupies the place which by rights belongs to
the chest and head. Then where are these?
Thrust aside by the monstrous knapsack, they
constitute a lateral appendage, a mere knob.
The strange creature bends at right angles
under the weight of its hump.

When nature goes in for the grotesque,
she leaves us behind. Is grotesque the right
word? I have seen representations of
Monkeys adorned with preposterous noses
which Rabelais, for all his inspired vision of
the huge, never conceived; and this though
he invented the nose " like the beak of a
limbeck, in every part thereof most variously
diapered with the twinkling sparkles of
crimson blisters budding forth, and purpled
with pimples all enamelled with thick-set
wheals of a sanguine colour, bordered with
260

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

gules." ^ I know some who are all scrubby
with shock-headed wigs and whiskers and
imperials in which every hairy drollery seems
to be epitomized; and yet there is not a doubt
that noses " like the beak of a limbeck " and
bristly faces are highly admired In the simian
clan. There is no boundary between the
fashionable and the grotesque. It all de-
pends upon the appraiser.

If the grub with the outrageous hump were
to show itself in public, it would doubtless re-
present the supreme expression of the beauti-
ful in the eyes of the Oniticellus and the
Onthophagus. Because it is a recluse, no-
body sees it. Its charms would remain un-
known but for the philosophical observer,
who says to himself:

" Everything is good that harmonizes with
the functions to be fulfilled. The grub re-
quires a cement-bag to safeguard its pro-
visions against desiccation; it is born with a
knapsack on its back so that It may live."

Thus is the hump excused and abundantly
justified.

Its usefulness Is displayed from another
point of view. The thimble Is of such a
niggardly size that the grub consumes It al-

1 Pantagrucl: chap. i. ; Sir Thomas Urquhart's transla-
tion.— Translator's Note.

261

The Sacred Beetle and Others

most entirely. All that remains is a thin
layer, a crumbling remnant which would
provide no security for the nymph. The
ruined dwelling has to be strengthened, to be
lined with a new wall. For this purpose, the
larva of the Oniticellus empties the whole of
its knapsack and gives its cell a complete
coating of cement, after the manner of the
Sacred Beetle and others.

The grub of the different species of
Onthophagi does more artistic work. Pla-
cing its putty drop by drop. It constructs a
mosaic of lightly-projecting scales, suggest-
ing those of a cedar-cone. When finished,
well dried and stripped of the last shreds of
the original thimble, the shell thus obtained
by the Bull Onthophagus is the size of an
average filbert and resembles the pretty cone
of the alder-tree. The imitation is so good
that I was taken in by It the first time that
I handled the curious product when digging
In my cages. It needed the contents of the
mock alder-cone to show me my mistake.
The hump has an artfulness of Its own: it
was keeping this elegant specimen of ster-
coral jewellery In reserve for us.

The nymph of the Onthophagi provides
us with another surprise. My observations
are confined to two species only: the Bull
262

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

Onthophagus and the Forked Onthophagus;
but the difference between the two, in size
and shape, is great enough to allow me to
generalize and apply the following singular
fact to the whole genus.

About the middle of the fore-edge of the
corselet the nymph is armed with a very
distinct horn, projecting for about one-
twelfth of an inch. The horn Is transparent,
colourless and limp, as are all the budding
organs at this period, particularly the legs,
the cornicles of the forehead and the mouth-
parts. This crystalline protuberance pro-
claims a future horn as clearly as the man-
dible is proclaimed by its initial nipple or the
wing-case by its sheath. Any insect-collector
will understand my amazement. A horn
there, on the prothorax! But no On-
thophagus wears such a weapon as thatl
The register of my insect-house duly records
the genus of the insect, but I dare not beheve
it.

The nymph moults. Together with the
cast skin, the unfamiliar horn dries up and
falls off, leaving not the least trace behind
It. My two Onthophagi, recently disguised
In strange armour, now have their corselets
bare.

This fleeting organ, which disappears with-
263

The Sacred Beetle and Others

out leaving even an excrescence, this tem-
porary horn at a spot destined in the end
to be unmailed, gives rise to a few reflections.
The Dung-beetles, those placid creatures,
generally favour a warlike harness; they
love outlandish weapons, halberds, spears,
grappling-irons, scimitars. Let us hurriedly
recall the horn of the Spanish Copris. No
Rhinoceros in the Indian jungles boasts one
to compare with it upon his nose. Broad at
the base, pointed at the tip, curved like a
bow, when the head is lifted the horn bends
back till it touches the keel of the obhquely
truncated corselet. It might be an harpoon
intended for ripping up some monster. Re-
member also the Minotaur,^ who looks as
though he were going to spit his foe with his
sheaf of three couched lances, and the Lunary
Copris, horned on the forehead, armed with
a pike on each shoulder and wearing a corse-
let notched with little crescents that remind
us of the short curved knife of the pork-
butcher.

The OnthophagI have a most varied
arsenal. One, O. taurus, wears the Bull's
crescent-shaped horns; a second, O. vacca,
prefers a wide, short blade, with its point

^Minotaurus typhceus. Cf. The Life and Love of the
Insect: chap. x. — Translator's Note.
264

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

sheathed in a notch in the corselet; a third,
O. furcatus, wields a trident; yet another, O.
nuchicornis, owns a dagger with a winged
handle; and again O. ccenibota sports a
cavalryman's sword. The worst-equipped
crown their foreheads with a transversal
crest, with a pair of cornicles.

What is the good of this panoply? Are
we to look upon it as a set of tools, pick-axes,
mattocks, pitchforks, spades, levers, which
the insect might ply in digging? By no
means. The only industrial implements are
the shield and the legs, especially the fore-
legs. I have never discovered a Dung-beetle
of any sort making use of her weapons
either to excavate her burrow or to mix up
her provisions. Besides, as a rule, the direct-
ion of the things alone would prevent their
employment as utensils. For a digging-job
performed forwards, what would you have a
Spanish Copris do with her pick-axe, which
points backwards? The powerful horn does
not face the obstacle attacked; it turns its
back upon it.

The Minotaur's trident, though arranged
in a suitable direction, likewise remains un-
employed. When deprived of this armour
with a clip of my scissors, the Beetle loses
none of his mining-talents; he goes under-
265

The Sacred Beetle and Others

ground quite as easily as his unmutilated
fellow. And here is an even more conclu-
sive argument: the mothers, to whose lot the
labour of nest-building falls; the mothers,
those conspicuous workers, are deprived of
these horny growths or possess them only on
a greatly reduced scale. They simplify the
armour, or reject it entirely, because it is
more of an impediment than an assistance
to their work.

Are we to look upon them as means of
defence? Not that either. The ruminants,
the main feeders of the dung-eaters, are also
given to wearing frontal armour. The
analogy of taste is obvious, though it is im-
possible for us to suspect its remote reasons.
The Ram, the Bull, the Goat, the Chamois,,
the Stag, the Reindeer and the rest of them
are armed with horns and antlers which they
use in amorous jousts or for the protection of
the threatened herd. The Onthophagi know
nothing of these contests. There is no strife
among them; and, should danger arise, they
content themselves with shamming death by
gathering their legs under their abdomen.

Their armour then is a mere ornament, the
fine feathers of masculine coquetry. Ac-
cording to life's law of competition, the best-
dressed carry off the palm. Though we may
266

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

regard those rapiers on the nose as queer,
their wearers are of another opinion; and
the most eccentric enjoy the highest favour.
pThe smallest extra pimple, springing up by
accident, is an added beauty which may decide
the choice among the suitors. The best-
adorned captivate the mothers, perpetuate
the breed and hand down to their offspring
the cornicle or the knob that caused their
triumph. Thus by degrees was the orna-
mentation at which the entomologist wonders
to-day formed and transmitted from genera-
tion to generation, improving as it went.

To this dictum of the evolutionists the
nymph of the Onthophagus replies as fol-
lows:

" I have on my back a budding horn, the
germ of a bit of ornamentation that can be
very handsome, as witness the Bison Bubas,
who turns it into a splendid prow-shaped
protuberance; witness also various exotic
relatives of mine, who lengthen their corselet
into a magnificent spur. I possess the where-
withal to bring about a revolution among
my kin. If I retained It, my bump, that
charming innovation, would relegate my
rivals to the second rank; I should be pre-
ferred above all others; I should become
the founder of a family; and my descendants,
267

The Sacred Beetle and Others

completing and improving on my first at-
tempt, would behold the extinction of those
antiquated old things. Why should the
lump on my back wither purposeless ? Why
should my endeavour, repeated year after
year for centuries, never achieve the pro-
mised result? "

Listen to me, O ambitious one! [The
theorists, it Is true, declare that every casual
acquisition, however trifling, is handed down
and increases if it be profitable; but don't
rely overmuch on that assertion. I do not
doubt the advantages which you might gain
from a little surplus ornament. What I do
very much doubt is the efl'icacity of time and
environment as an evolutionary factor. You
will be well-advised to believe that, born in
the dim and distant past with a transient
callosity, you are continuing and will continue
to be born with that rudimentary excrescence
without any chance of fixing it, hardening it
into a horn or obtaining an additional deco-
ration for your wedding-garment.

Be we men or Dung-beetles, we are all
created in the Image of an unalterable proto-
type: the changing conditions of life change
us slightly on the surface but never In the
framework of our being. The verdigris of
268

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

the ages may encrust our medals, but It can
give them neither a new Image nor a new
superscription. Nothing will give me the
wings of a bird, desirable though these would
be In the midst of our human squalor; nor
will anything bestow upon your adult age
the triumphal crest which your nymphal knob
seemed to prognosticate.

The nymphs of both the Onthophagus and
the Onltlcellus attain their maturity in some
twenty days. During August the adult form
appears with the half-white, half-red costume
which has become familiar to us in our earlier
studies. The normal colouring is fixed
pretty quickly. Nevertheless the insect is in
no hurry to burst its shell; the difficulty would
be too great. It waits for the first showers
of September, which will come to its assist-
ance by softening the casket. The liberating
rain arrives; and behold, issuing from the
earth to rush after food, the joyous small fry
of the Onthophagi.

Among the domestic secrets which my
cages reveal to me at this period, one above
all attracts my attention. I possess at the
same time, in separate establishments, the
newcomers and the veterans, which last are
as brisk and eager in their pursuit of the
269

The Sacred Beetle and Others

victuals as are their sons, now banqueting for
the first time in the open. ^Ihe cages are
stocked with two generations.
1 The same synchronizing of fathers and
sons is observable among all the Dung-beetles
that build their nests in the spring: Sacred
(Beetles, Copres and Geotrupes. The pre-
caution which I have taken to watch the
hatchings and to place the youngsters in a
special compartment as and when they ap-
peared confirms this remarkable simultaneity.

It is an entomological principle that the
ancestor shall not see his descendants; he
dies once the future of his family is assured.
By a glorious privilege, the Sacred Beetle
and his rivals are allowed to know their suc-
cessors: fathers and sons meet at the same
banquet, not in my cages, where the problems
under consideration compel me to keep them
separate, but in the open fields. Together
they gambol in the sun, together they exploit
the patch of dung encountered; and this life
of revelry lasts as long as autumn continues
to supply fine days.

The cold weather arrives. Sacred Beetles
and Copres, Onthophagi and Gymnopleuri
dig themselves a burrow, go down into it with
provisions, shut themselves in and wait. In
January, on a frosty day, I dig into the cages
270

Onthophagi and Oniticelli

which have no protection against the in-
clemencies of the season. I go to work dis-
creetly, so as not to submit all my captives
to the harsh test. [Those whom I exhume
each sit huddled in a shell, beside the re-
maining provisions. All that the lethargy
produced by the cold allows them to do is to
move their legs and antennae a little when
I expose them to the sun.

Hardly has the imprudent almond-tree
burst into blossom in February, when some
of the sleepers awake. Two of the earlier
Onthophagi, O. lemur and O. fronticornis,
are very common at this time, already
crumbling the dung warmed by the sun on
the high-road. Soon the festival of spring
begins; and all, large and small, newcomers
and veterans, hasten to take part in it. The
old ones, not all, but at least some of them,
the best-preserved, fly off and get married a
second time, an unparalleled privilege. They
have two famihes, separated by an interval
of a year. They can indeed have three, as
is evidenced by certain Scarab {Scarabaus
laticollis) who, kept in a cage for three years,
gives me every year her collection of pears.
Perhaps they even go beyond this. The
Dung-beetle tribe has its patriarchs who are
truly venerable.

271

CHAPTER XII

THE GEOTRUPES: THE PUBLIC HEALTH

TO complete the q^-cle of the year in the
adult form, to see one's self surrounded
by one's sons at the spring festival, to double
and treble one's family: that surely is a most
exceptional privilege in the insect world.
The Bees, the aristocracy of instinct, perish
once the honey-pot is filled; the Butterflies,
the aristocracy not of instinct but of dress,
die when they have fastened their packet of
eggs in a propitious spot; the richly-armoured
Ground-beetles succumb when the germs of a
posterity are scattered beneath the stones.

So with the others, except among the social
insects, where the mother survives, either
alone or accompanied by her attendants. It
is a general law: the Insect is born orphaned
of both its parents. And lo, by an un-
expected turn of fate, the humble scavenger
escapes the catastrophes that devour the
mighty! The Dung-beetle, sated with days,
becomes a patriarch.

This longevity explains first of all a fact
272

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

that struck me long ago, when, to learn a little
about the tribes whose history attracted me
so greatly, I used to stick rows of Beetles
on pins in my boxes. Ground-beetles, Rose-
chafers, Buprestes, Capricorns, Saperdae ^
and the rest were collected one by one, after
prolonged search. Now and again a lucky
find would make my cheeks glow with excite-
ment. Exclamations broke from our pren-
tice band when one of these rarities was
captured. A touch of jealousy accompanied
our congratulations of the proud possessor.
It was bound to be so; for think: there were
not enough to go round.

A Scalary Saperda, the denizen of dead
cherry-trees, clad in deep yellow with ladder-
like markings of black velvet; a purply
Ground-beetle, edged with amethyst along
his ebony wing-cases; a brilUant Buprestis,
wedding the sheen of gold and copper to the
gorgeous green of nlalachite: these were
great events, far too infrequent to satisfy us

all.

With the Dung-beetles you can smg a
different song! These are the ones if you
want to fill the greediest of asphyxiating-
phials to the neck. They, especially the

lA genus of Longlcorns, or Long-horned Beetles. —
Translator's Note.

273

The Sacred Beetle and Others

smaller ones, are a numberless multitude
when the others are few and far between.
I remember Onthophagi and Aphodii swarm-
ing by the thousand under one shelter. You
could have shovelled them up if you
wished.

To this day I am still astonished when
I see these crowds again; as of old, the
abundance of the Dung-beetle family forms
a striking contrast with the comparative
scarcity of the others. If it occurred to me
to go a-hunting once more and renew the
quest to which I owe moments of such sheer
delight, I should be certain of filling my
flasks with Scarabaei, Copres, Geotrupes,
Onthophagi and other members of the same
corporation before achieving any measure of
success with the rest of the series. By the
time that May comes, the distiller of ordure
is there in numbers; and in July and August,
those months of blazing heat which see the
suspension of labour in the fields, the dealer
in unsavoury matter is still at work while the
others have taken to earth and are lying
In motionless torpor. He and his contem-
porary, the Cicada,^ represent almost by

1 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre,
translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps.
i. to V. — Translator's Note.

274

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

themselves such activity as prevails during
the torrid days.

May not this greater frequency of the
Dung-beetles, at least in my part of the
world, be due to the longevity of the adult
form? I think so. Whereas the other in-
sects are summoned to enjoy the fine weather
only in successive generations, these receive a
general invitation, father and sons together,
daughters and mother together. Being
equally prolific, they are therefore repre-
sented twice over.

And they really deserve It, in consideration
of the services which they render. There
is a general hygienic law which requires that
every putrid thing shall disappear in the
shortest possible time. Paris has not yet
solved the formidable problem of her
sewage, which sooner or later will become a
question of life or death for the monstrous
city. One asks one's self whether the centre
of light Is not doomed to be extinguished
some day In the reeking exhalations of a soil
saturated with putrescence. What this ag-
glomeration of millions of men cannot ob-
tain, with all Its treasures of wealth and
talent, the smallest hamlet possesses without
going to any expense or even troubling to
think about It.

275

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Nature, so lavish of her cares in respect
of rural health, is indifferent to the welfare
of cities, if not actively hostile to it. She
has created for the fields two classes of
scavengers, whom nothing wearies, whom no-
thing repels. One of these, consisting of
Flies, Silphae, Dermestes, Necrophori, His-
ters is charged with the dissection of corpses.
They cut and hash, they elaborate the waste
matter of death in their stomachs in order
to restore it to life.

A Mole ripped open by the ploughshare
soils the path with its entrails, which soon
turn purple; a Snake hes on the grass,
crushed by the foot of a wayfarer who
thought, the fool, that he was performing a
good work; an unfledged bird, fallen from
its nest, lies, a crushed and pathetic heap, at
the foot of the tree that carried it; thousands
of other similar remains, of every sort and
kind, are scattered here and there, threaten-
ing danger through their effluvia, if no steps
be taken to put things right. Have no fear:
no sooner is a corpse signalled in any direct-
ion than the little undertakers come trotting
along. They work away at it, empty it, con-
sume it to the bone, or at least reduce it to
the dryness of a mummy. In less than
twenty-four hours, Mole, Snake, bird have
276

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

disappeared and the requirements of health
are satisfied.

The same zeal for their task exists In the
second class of scavengers. The village
hardly knows those ammonia-scented refuges
to which the townsman repairs to relieve his
wretched needs. A little bit of a wall, a
hedge, a bush is all that the peasant asks as
a retreat at the moment when he would fain
be alone. I need say no more to suggest
the encounters to which such free and easy
manners expose you ! Enticed by the patches
of lichen, the cushions of moss, the tufts of
houseleek and other pretty things that adorn
old stones, you go up to a sort of wall that
supports a vineyard. Faugh ! At the foot
of the daintily-decked shelter, what an un-
concealed abomination! You flee: lichens,
mosses and houseleek tempt you no more.
But come back on the morrow. The thing
has disappeared, the place Is clean: the Dung-
beetles have been that way.

To preserve the eyes from a frequent re-
currence of offensive sights Is, to these stal-
wart workers, the least of their tasks: a
loftier mission Is Incumbent on them.
Science tells us that the most dreadful
scourges of mankind have their agents of
dissemination In tiny organisms, the ml-
277

The Sacred Beetle and Others

crobes, near neighbours of must and mould,
on the extreme confines of the vegetable king-
dom. At times of epidemic, the terrible
germs multiply by countless myriads in the
intestinal discharges. They contaminate
those primary necessities of life, the air and
water; they spread over our linen, our
clothes, our food and thus diffuse contagion.
We have to destroy by fire, to sterilize with
corrosives or to bury underground such
things as are infected with them.

Prudence even demands that we should
never allow ordure to linger on the surface
of the ground. It may be harmless or it
may be dangerous: when in doubt, the best
thing is to put it out of sight. That is how
ancient wisdom seems to have understood
the thing, long before the microbe explained
to us the need for vigilance. The nations of
the east, more liable than we to epidemics,
had formal laws in these matters. Moses,
apparently echoing Egyptian knowledge in
this case, tabulated the rules of conduct for
his people wandering in the Arabian desert:

*' Thou shalt have a place without the

camp," he says, " to which thou mayst go for

the necessities of nature, carrying a paddle at

thy girdle. And, when thou sittest down,

278

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

thou shalt dig round about and with the earth
that is dug up thou shalt cover that which
thou art eased of." {Deut., XXIIL, xii.-xiv.)

The simple precept touches a matter of
grave concern; and we may well believe that,
if Islam, at the time of its great pilgrimages
to the Kaaba, were to take the same precau-
tion and a few more of a similar character,
Mecca would cease to be an annual seat of
cholera and Europe would not need to mount
guard on the shores of the Red Sea to protect
herself against the scourge.

Heedless of hygiene as the Arab, who was
one of his ancestors, the Provengal peasant
does not suspect the danger. Fortunately,
the Dung-beetle, that faithful observer of the
Mosaic law is at work. It Is his to remove
from sight, it is his to bury the microbe-laden
matter. Supplied with digging-implements
far superior to the paddle which the Israehte
was to carry at his girdle when urgent busi-
ness called him from the camp, he hastens
to the spot and, as soon as man is gone,
excavates a pit wherein the infection Is swal-
lowed up and rendered harmless.

The services rendered by these sextons are
of the highest Importance to the health of the
fields ; yet we, who are those most Interested
279

The Sacred Beetle and Others

in this constant work of purification, hardly
vouchsafe the sturdy toilers a contemptous
glance. Popular language overwhelms them
with harsh epithets. This appears to be the
rule: do good and you shall be misjudged,
you shall be traduced, stoned, trodden under-
foot, as witness the Toad, the Bat, the
Hedgehog, the Owl and other helpers who,
for their services, ask nothing but a little
tolerance.

Now, of our defenders against the dangers
of filth flaunted shamelessly in the rays of
the sun, the most remarkable In our climes
are the Geotrupes: not that they are more
zealous than the others, but because their size
makes them capable of heavier work.
Moreover, when it is simply a question of
their nourishment, they resort by preference
to the materials which we have most to fear.

My neighbourhood is worked by four
species of Geotrupes. Two of them, G.
mutator, Marsh, and G. sylvaticus, Panz.,
are rarities on which we had best not
count for connected studies; the two others,
on the contrary, G. stercorarius, LiN., and
G. hypocrita, ScHNElD,, are exceedingly com-
mon. Black as ink above, both of them are
magnificently garbed below. One is quite
surprised to find such a jewel-case among the
280

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

professional scavengers. The under surface
of the Stercoraceous Geotrupes is of a
splendid amethyst-violet, while that of the
Mimic Geotrupes makes a generous display
of the ruddy gleams of copper pyrites.
These two species are the inmates of my
insect-houses.

Let us ask them first of what feats they
are capable as buriers. There are a dozen
of them in all. The cage is previously swept
clean of what remains of the former provi-
sions, hitherto supplied without stint. This
time, I propose to find out what a Geotrupes
can stow away in one night. At sunset, I
serve to my twelve captives the whole of a
heap which a Mule has just dropped in front
of my door. There is plenty of it, enough
to fill a basket.

On the morning of the next day, the mass
has disappeared underground. There is no-
thing left outside, or very nearly nothing. I
am able to make a fairly close estimate and
I find that each of my Geotrupes, presuming
each of the twelve to have done an equal
share of the work, has buried pretty nearly
sixty cubic inches of matter: a Titanic task,
when we remember the insignificant size of
the insect, which, moreover, has to dig the
warehouse to which the booty must be low-
281

The Sacred Beetle and Odiers

ered. And all this is done in the space of a
night.

Having feathered their nests so well, will
they remain quietly underground with their
treasure? Not they! The weather is
magnificent. The hour of twilight comes,
gentle and calm. Now is the time when
long flights are undertaken, when joyous
humming fills the air, when the insects go
afar, searching the roads by which the herds
have lately passed. My lodgers abandon
their cellars and mount to the surface. I
hear them buzzing, climbing up the wire-
work, bumping wildly against the walls. I
have anticipated this twilight animation.
Provisions have been collected during the
day, plentiful as those of yesterday. I serve
them. There is the same disappearance
during the night. On the morrow, the place
is once again swept clean. And this would
continue indefinitely, so fine are the evenings,
if I always had at my disposal the where-
withal to satisfy these insatiable hoarders.

Rich though his booty be, the Geotrupes
leaves it at sunset to dally in the last gleams
of daylight and to go In search of a new
workplace. With him, one would say, the
wealth acquired does not count; the only
thing of value is that to be acquired. Then
282

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

what does he do with his warehouses, re-
newed each twilight in favourable weather?
It is obvious that the Dung-beetle is incapable
of consuming all those provisions in a single
night. He has such a superabundance of
victuals In his larder that he does not know
how to dispose of them; he is surfeited with
good things by which he will not profit; and,
not satisfied with having his store crammed,
the acquisitive plutocrat slaves, night after
night, to store away more.

From each warehouse, set up here, set up
there, as things happen, he deducts the daily
meal beforehand; the rest, which means al-
most the whole, he abandons. My cages
testify to the fact that this instinct for bury-
ing is more imperative than the consumer's
appetite. The ground Is soon raised, in con-
sequence; and I am obliged, from time to
time, to lower the level to the desired limits.
If I dig It up, I find it choked throughout Its
depth with hoards that have remained Intact.
The original earth has become a hopeless con-
glomeration, which I must prune freely. If
I would not go astray In my future observa-
tions.

Allowing for errors, either of excess or
deficiency, which are Inevitable in a subject
that does not admit of exact measurement,
283

The Sacred Beetle and Others

one point stands out very clearly as the
result of my enquiry: the Geotrupes are
enthusiastic buriers; they take underground
a great deal more than is necessary for their
consumption. As this work is performed, in
varying degrees, by legions of collaborators,
large and small, It is evident that the purifica-
tion of the soil must benefit to a consider-
able extent and that the public health is to
be congratulated on having this army of
auxiliaries In Its service.

In addition, the plant and. Indirectly, a
host of different existences are Interested In
these interments. What the Geotrupes
buries and abandons the next day Is not lost:
far from It. Nothing Is lost In the world's
balance-sheet; at stock-taking, the total never
varies. The little lump of dung buried by
the insect will make the nearest tuft of grass
grow a luxuriant green. A Sheep passes,
crops the bunch of grass : all the better for
the leg of mutton which man is waiting for;
the Dung-beetle's Industry has procured us
a savoury mouthful.

Even that Is something, though we are
making our usual mistake of comparing
everything with our own standard. How
much more it becomes, once we begin to think
and get away from this narrow point of
284

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

view! To enumerate all those who benefit,
directly or indirectly, by the Dung-beetle's
work would be impossible, so inextricably
interlinked is all that exists. I think of the
Warbler, who will stuff the mattress of his
nest with the tiny stalks retted by the rain
and sun; the caterpillar of some Psyche,
which will construct its Moth-case by Im-
bricating the remnants of those same stalks;
little Cockchafers, who will nibble the
anthers of the tall grasses; tiny Weevils,
who will turn the ripe seeds Into cradles for
their grubs; tribes of Aphides, who will settle
under the leaves; and Ants, who will come
and slake their thirst at the sugary cornicles
of the last-named herd.

Let us be content with this list, or we
shall never have done. A whole world is
benefited by the agricultural industry of the
Dung-beetle, that burler of manure : first the
plant and then all that live upon the plant.
A small world, a very small world, as small
as you please, but after all not a negligible
world. It is of such trifles that the great
integral of life Is composed, even as the
Integral of the mathematicians is composed
of quantities neighbouring on o.

Agricultural chemistry teaches us that, to
employ the stable-dung to the best purpose,
285

The Sacred Beetle and Others

we should put it into the ground, so far as
possible, while fresh. When diluted by the
rain and dissipated by the air, it becomes
lifeless and devoid of fertilizing elements.
This agronomic truth of such high import-
ance is quite familiar to the Geotrupes and
his colleagues. In their burying-work, they
invariably aim at materials of recent date.
Just as they are eager to put away the
produce of the moment, all saturated with its
potassium, its nitrates and its phosphates,
even so do they scorn the stuff hardened into
brick by the sun or rendered infertile by long
exposure to the air. The valueless residue
does not interest them; they leave this barren
rubbish to others.

We now know about the Geotrupes as a
sanitary expert and as a collector of manure.
We are going to see him in a third aspect,
that of the sagacious weather-prophet. It
Is popularly believed. In the country-side, that
a swarm of agitated Geotrupes, skimming
the ground with an air of great business in
the evening, is a sign of fine weather on the
morrow. Is this rustic prognostication
worth anything? My cages shall tell us.
I watch my boarders closely all through the
autumn, the period when they build their
nests; I note the state of the sky on the day
286

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

before and register the weather of the next
day. I use no thermometer, no barometer,
none of the scientific implements employed in
the meteorological observatories. I confine
myself to the summary information derived
from my personal impressions.

The Geotrupes do not leave their burrows
until after sundown. With the last ghmmer
of daylight, if the air be calm and the tem-
perature mild, they roam about, flying low
with a humming noise, seeking the materials
which have accumulated for them in the
course of the day. If they come upon some-
thing that suits them, they drop down heavily,
tumbhng over in their clumsy eagerness,
thrust themselves into their new treasure and
spend the best part of the night in burying it.
In this way the dirt of the fields is made to
disappear in a single night.

There is one condition indispensable to this
purglng-process : the atmosphere must be still
and warm. Should it rain, the Geotrupes
will not stir out of doors. They have suf-
ficient resources underground for a prolonged
holiday. Should it be cold, should the north-
wind blow, they will not sally forth either.
In both cases, my cages remain deserted on
the surface. We will leave out of the quest-
ion these periods of enforced leisure and con-
287

The Sacred Beetle and Others

sider only those evenings on which the atmo-
spheric conditions are favourable to fora-
ging-expeditions or at least seem to me as
though they ought to be. I will summarize
the details in my note-book in three general
cases.

First case. A glorious evening. The
Geotrupes fuss about the cages, impatient to
hasten to their nocturnal task. Next day,
magnificent weather. The prophecy, of
course, is of the simplest. To-day's fine
weather is only the continuation of yester-
day's. If the Geotrupes know nothing more
than this, they hardly deserve their reputa-
tion. However, let us pursue the experiment
before drawing any conclusions.

Second case. Again a fine evening. My
experience seems to say that the condition of
the sky forebodes a fine morning. The Geo-
trupes think otherwise. They do not come
out. Which of the two will be right, man or
Dung-beetle? The Dung-beetle: thanks to
the keenness of his perceptions, he foresees,
he scents a downpour. Rain comes during
the night and lasts for part of the day.

Third case. The sky is overcast. Will

the south-wind, gathering its clouds, bring us

rain? I ani of that opinion, appearances

seem so much to point that way. The Geo-

288

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

trupes, however, fly and buzz around their
cages. Their prophecy is correct and I am
wrong. The threat of rain is dispelled and
the sun next morning rises radiantly.

They seem to be influenced above all by the
electric tension of the atmosphere. On hot
and sultry evenings, when a storm is brewing,
I see them moving about even more than
usual. The morrow is always marked by
violent claps of thunder.

There you have the upshot of my observa-
tions, which were continued for three months.
Whatever the condition of the sky, whether
clear or clouded, the Geotrupes announce fair
weather or storm by their excited movements
at twilight. They are living barometers,
more worthy of belief perhaps, in such con-
tingencies, than the barometer of our scien-
tists. The exquisite sensitiveness of life is
mightier than the brute weight of a column
of mercury.

I will end by mentioning a fact that well
deserves further investigation when circum-
stances permit. On the twelfth, thirteenth
and fourteenth of November 1894, the Geo-
trupes in my cages are in an extraordinarily
agitated condition. Never before and never
since I have seen such animation. They clam-
ber wildly up the wires; at every moment,
289

The Sacred Beetle and Others

they take wing and at once bump against the
walls and are flung to the ground. Their
restlessness continues until a late hour of the
night, a very unusual thing with them. Out
of doors, a few free neighbours run up and
complete the riot in front of my house.
What can be happening to bring these
strangers here and especially to throw my
cages into such a state of excitement?

After a few hot days, which are most ex-
ceptional at this time of the year, the south-
wind prevails, foretelling that rain is at hand.
On the evening of the fourteenth, an endless
procession of broken clouds passes before the
face of the moon. It is a magnificent sight.
During the night, the wind drops. There is
not a breath of air. The sky is a uniform
grey. The rain pours straight down, mono-
tonously, continuously, depressingly. It looks
as though it would never stop. And it goes
on, in fact, until the eighteenth of the month.

Did the Geotrupes, who were so restless
on the twelfth, foresee this deluge? They
did. But as a rule they do not quit their bur-
rows at the approach of rain. Something
very extraordinary must have happened,
therefore, to upset them in this way.

The newspapers explained the riddle. On
the twelfth, a storm of unprecedented vio-
290

The Geotrupes: the Public Health

lence burst over the north of France. The
great barometrical depression which caused
it was echoed in my district; and the Geo-
trupes marked this profound disturbance by
their exceptional display of emotion. They
told me of the hurricane before the papers
did, had I but been able to understand them.
Was this simply a chance coincidence, or was
it a case of cause and effect? In the absence
of sufficient evidence, I will end on this note
of interrogation.

291

CHAPTER XIII

THE GEOTRUPES: NEST-BUILDING

TN September and October, when the first
■■■ autumn rains soak the ground and allow
the Sacred Beetle to split his natal casket, the
Stercoraceous Geotrupes and the Mimic Geo-
trupes found their family-establishments:
somewhat makeshift establishments, in spite
of what we might have expected from the
name of these miners, so well styled earth-
borers. When he has to dig himself a re-
treat that shall shelter him against the rig-
ours of winter, the Geotrupes really deserves
his name: none can compare with him for
the depth of the pit or the perfection and
rapidity of the work. In sandy ground,
easily excavated, I have dug up some that
were buried over a yard deep. Others
carried their digging further still, tiring both
my patience and my implements. There
you have the skilled well-sinker, the inimi-
table earth-borer. When the cold sets in, he
will be able to descend to some stratum where
the frost has lost its terrors.
292

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

The family-lodging is another matter.
The propitious season is a short one; time
would fail, if each Individual grub had to be
endowed with one of those mansions. No-
thing could be more satisfactory than for the
insect to devote the leisure which the ap-
proach of winter gives it to digging a hole
of unlimited depth: this makes the retreat
doubly safe; and for the moment its energies,
which are not yet suspended, have no other
outlet. But at laylng-time these laborious
undertakings are Impossible. The hours
pass swiftly. In four or five weeks, a nume-
rous family has to be housed and victualled,
which puts the sinking of a deep pit that
requires time and patience quite out of the
question.

In any case, precautions will be taken
against the dangers of the surface. Once Its
family Is settled, the unprotected adult Insect
Is obliged to establish Its winter quarters at
great depths, whence It will emerge in spring
accompanied by Its young ones, like the
Sacred Beetle; but neither the egg nor the
grub needs this costly refuge In the wet sea-
son, being well-protected by the parents'
industry.

The burrow dug by the Geotrupes for the
benefit of her grub Is hardly deeper than that
293

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of the Copris or the Sacred Beetle, notwith-
standing the difference of the seasons.
Eleven or twelve inches, roughly speaking,
is the most that I find in the fields, where
nothing occurs to restrict the depth. My
cages, with their limited thickness of soil, are
less trustworthy in this respect, since the insect
has no option but to use the layer of earth at
its disposal. Many a time, however, I per-
ceive that this layer is not fully traversed
down to the floor of the box, thus furnishing
a fresh proof of the slight depth needed.

In the open fields as in the confinement of
my cages, the burrow is always dug under the
heap of dung that is being exploited. No
outward sign betrays its presence, concealed
as it is beneath the voluminous droppings of
the Mule. It is a cylindrical passage, the
same width as the neck of a claret-bottle,
straight and perpendicular in a homogeneous
soil, bent and winding irregularly in rough
ground where a root or stone may bar the
way and necessitate an abrupt change of di-
rection. In my cages, where the layer of
earth is insufficient the pit, at first vertical,
bends at right angles on touching the wooden
floor and is continued horizontally. There
is no precise rule therefore in the boring.
The accidents of the soil determine the shape.
294

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

At the end of the gallery again there is
nothing to remind us of the spacious hall,
the workshop where Copres, Scarabaei and
Gymnopleuri fashion their artistic pears and
ovoids, but a mere cul-de-sac of the same
diameter as the nest. A veritable drill-hole,
if we make allowances for the occasional
knots and twists inevitable in boring through
stuff that offers more resistance at some places
than at others; a winding canal: that is what
the Geotrupes' burrow is.

The contents of the crude dwelling take
the form of a sort of sausage or pudding,
which fills the lower part of the cylinder and
fits it exactly. Its length is not far short of
eight inches and its width about an inch and a
half, when the thing belongs to the Stercora-
ceous Geotrupes. The dimensions are a little
smaller in the work of the Mimic Geotrupes.
In either case, the sausage is nearly always
irregular in shape, now curved, now more
or less dented. These imperfections of the
surface are due to the accidents of a stony
ground, which the insect does not always ex-
cavate according to the canons of its art,
which favours the straight hne and the per-
pendicular. The moulded material faith-
fully reproduces all the irregularities of its
mould. The lower end is rounded off like
295

.The Sacred Beetle and Others

the bottom of the burrow itself; the upper
end is slightly concave, through being packed
more closely in the middle.

The voluminous object is put together in
layers rather suggestive, as regards curve and
arrangement, of a pile of watch-glasses.
Each of them obviously corresponds with a
load of materials gathered in the heap above
the burrow, carried down separately, placed
in position on the previous layer and then
vigorously trampled flat. The edges of the
disk, which adapt themselves less well to this
work of compression, remain at a higher
level; and all this tends to form something
like a concave lens. These same less com-
pressed edges give a sort of rind, which is
soiled with earth owing to its contact with
the walls of the tunnel. Altogether, the
structure tells us the method of manufacture.
The Geotrupes' sausage, like our own, is ob-
tained by moulding in a cylinder. It results
from layers introduced one after the other
and duly compressed, especially in the middle,
which is more easily accessible to the manipu-
lator's legs. Direct observation will confirm
these inferences presently and supplement
them with details of considerable interest,
which we should never suspect from simply
examining the work.

296

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

Before continuing, let us note how well-
inspired the insect is in always boring its
burrow under the heap whence the materials
for the sausage are to be extracted. The
number of loads successively carried down
and pressed is considerable. Allowing a
thickness of a sixth of an inch for each layer
— a figure which is near enough — I see that
some fifty journeys are needed. If the pro-
visions had each time to be fetched from a
distance, the Geotrupes would be unable to
cope with her task, which would be too long
and tiring. Her sort of work Is incompatible
with all that travelling, after the fashion of
the Sacred Beetle's. She Is wise to settle
herself under the heap. She has only to
climb up from her well to find under her feet,
at her very door, enough to make her black-
pudding, however large she may wish It to be.

This, it Is true, presupposes a copiously
supplied workyard. When toiling on behalf
of her grub, the Geotrupes keeps a lookout
for one of this kind and accepts no purveyors
except the Horse and the Mule, never the
Sheep, who is too niggardly. It is not a
question here of the quality of the foodstuffs;
It Is a question of quantity. My cages, in
fact, tell me that the Sheep would have the
preference, if she were more generous.
297

The Sacred Beetle and Others

What she does not give normally I create
artificially by piling sheaf upon sheaf. Be-
neath this extraordinary treasure, the like of
which is never offered by the fields, my cap-
tives work with a zest that shows how well
they appreciate the windfall. They enrich
me with more sausages than I know what to
do with. I arrange them in strata in great
pots, so that, when winter comes, I may
study the actions of the larva; I lodge them
separately in glass tubes and test-tubes; I
pack them in tins. The shelves of my study
are crammed with them. My collection re-
minds me of an assortment of potted meats.

The unfamiliarity of the material involves
no change in the structure. Because of its
finer grain and greater plasticity, the surface
Is more regular and the inside more homo-
geneous; and that is all.

At the lower end of the sausage, which end
is always rounded off, is the hatching-cham-
ber, a circular cavity which could hold a fair-
sized hazel-nut. The respiratory needs of
the germ demand that the side-walls should
be thin enough to allow the air to enter freely.
Inside, I catch the gleam of a greenish, semi-
fluid plaster, a simple exudation from the
porous mass, as In the Copris' ovolds and the
Sacred Beetle's pears.
298

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

In this round hollow lies the egg, without
adhering in any way to the surrounding walls.
It is a white, elongated ellipsoid and is of
remarkable bulk in proportion to the insect.
In the case of the Stercoraceous Geotrupes,
it measures seven to eight millimetres in
length by four at its widest point.^ The egg
of the Mimic Geotrupes is a little smaller.

This little hollow contrived in the sub-
stance of the sausage, at the lower end, does
not agree at all with what I have read about
the Geotrupes' nest-bulldlng. Quoting an
old German writer, Frisch,^ an author whom
the poverty of my library does not allow
me to consult, Mulsant,^ speaking of the
Stercoraceous Geotrupes, says:

" At the bottom of her perpendicular gal-
lery, the mother builds, usually with earth, a
sort of nest or egg-shaped shell, open at one
side. On the inner wall of this shell she

1.273 to .312 X. 156 mch.— Translator's Note.

2Johann Leonhard Frisch (1666-1743), a Lutheran
clergyman, lexicologist and natural historian and member
of the Berlin Academy. His Beschreibung von allerlei

Insecten in Deutschland was published in 1720 to 1738.

Translator's Note.

3 Martial Etienne Mulsant (1797-1880), professor of
natural history at the Lycee de Lyon; author of Histoire
naturelle des coleopteres de France (1839-1846) and other
entomological works. — Translator's Note.

299

The Sacred Beetle and Others

glues a whitish egg, the size of a grain of
wheat."

What can this shell be, usually made of
earth and open at one side so that the grub
may reach the column of provisions over-
head ? I am at an utter loss to know. Shell,
especially made of earth, there is none, nor
any opening. I see and see again, as often
as I wish, a round cell, closed everywhere
and built at the lower end of the food-
cylinder, but nothing else, nothing that even
vaguely resembles the structure described.

Which of the two is responsible for the
imaginary construction? Can the German
entomologist have sinned through superficial
observation? Or did the Lyons entomolo-
gist misinterpret the older author? I lack
the necessary documents to bring the mistake
home to the right person. Is it not pathetic
to see these masters, who are so punctilious
about a joint of the palpi, so cantankerous
about the first claim to some barbaric appel-
lation, almost indifferent when they come to
treat of habits and industry, which are the
supreme expression of an insect's life? No-
menclators' entomology is making enormous
strides: it overwhelms us, swamps us. The
other, biologists' entomology, the only inte-
300

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

resting branch of the science, the only one
really worthy of our attention, is neglected
to such an extent that the commonest species
has no history or calls for serious revision of
the little that has been written about it. Vain
lamentations: things will go on in the same
old way for a long time to come.

To return to the Geotrupes' sausage. Its
shape is diametrically opposite to that which
we have studied in the case of the Copris and
the Sacred Beetle, who are sparing of mate-
rial but very generous with their labour, ta-
king great care to give their work the shape
best-suited to preserve it against dryness.
With their ovoids and their spheres sur-
mounted with a neck, they are able to keep
the modest family-ration fresh. The Geo-
trupes knows nothing of these scientific me-
thods. More primitive in her ways, she sees
well-being only in overabundance. Provided
that the gallery be crammed with food, she
cares little how shapeless her pile may be.

Instead of avoiding dryness, she appears to
go in search of it. Just look at the sausage.
It is inordinately long and clumsily put to-
gether. There is no compact, impermeable
rind; and there is an excessive amount of sur-
face, touching the earth for the whole length
of the cylinder. This is exactly what is
301

The Sacred Beetle and Others

needed to bring about quick desiccation; it is
the converse of the problem of the smallest
surface, solved by the Sacred Beetle and the
others. Then what becomes of my views on
the shape of those provisions, views so well-
founded, according to our logic? Can I have
been taken in by a blind geometry, which
achieves a rational result by chance?

To any one who says so let the facts reply.
Here is their answer: the manufacturers of
spheres build their nests at the height of the
summer, when the ground is parched; the
manufacturers of cylinders build theirs in the
autumn, when the earth becomes saturated
with rain. The first have to guard their
family against the danger of bread too hard
to eat. The second know nothing of starva-
tion through desiccation; their provisions,
potted in cool earth, retain indefinitely the
proper degree of softness. The moistness,
not the shape, of the sheath is the safeguard
of the ration inside it. The rainfall at this
time of the year is in Inverse ratio to that of
summer; and this is enough to render useless
the precautions taken in the dog-days.

Let us probe deeper and we shall see that

the cylinder is preferable to the sphere in

autumn. When October and November

come, the rains are frequent and persistent;

302

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

but a day's sunshine Is enough to dry the soil
to the shallow depth where the Geotrupes'
nest hes. It is a serious matter not to lose
the enjoyment of this fine day. How will
the grub benefit by it?

Imagine the larva enclosed in the big ball
which the copious quantity of food placed at
its disposal might well supply. Once satu-
rated with moisture by a shower, this sphere
would retain it stubbornly, for its form is
that of least evaporation and of least contact
with the sun-warmed soil. In vain, within
twenty-four hours, will the surface layer of
the ground be restored to its normal coolness :
the globular mass will retain its excess of
water, for lack of adequate contact with the
sun-and-air-dried earth. In the too-humid
and too-thick recess, the provisions will go
musty; the heat from outside will be Inoppor-
tune, as will the air; and the larva will derive
little advantage from this late autumn sun,
whose tardy rays ought to ripen It to perfect-
ion and give It the necessary vigour to brave
the trials of winter.

What was a good quality in July, when It
was necessary to guard against excessive dry-
ness, becomes a bad one In October, when
excessive damp Is to be avoided. The cylin-
der Is therefore substituted for the sphere.
303

The Sacred Beetle and Others

The new shape, with its exaggerated length,
fulfils the converse condition of that beloved
by the pill-makers : here, with a similar vol-
ume, the surface is developed to its extreme
limits. Is there a reason for this complete
change? No doubt; and I seem to perceive
it. Now that dryness is no longer to be
feared, will not this kind of shape, with its
large surface, enable the mass of foodstuff
to get rid of its superfluous moisture more
readily? Should it rain, its wide area cer-
tainly will make it liable to more rapid satu-
ration; but also, when the fine weather re-
turns, the surplus water will soon disappear
thanks to the extensive contact with a quickly-
drained soil.

Let us conclude by enquiring how the roly-
poly is manufactured. To watch the per-
formance in the fields appears to me a very
difficult, not to say impracticable undertaking.
With my cages, success is certain, provided
we exercise a little patience and dexterity. I
let down the board which keeps the artificial
soil in place at the back. The latter now re-
veals its vertical surface, which I explore bit
by bit with the point of a knife until I strike a
burrow. If the operation be cautiously con-
ducted, without the disturbance due to an
ill-calculated landslip, the labourers are dis-
304

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

covered at their toil, paralysed, it is true,
by the sudden flood of light and as it were
petrified in the attitude of work. The ar-
rangement of the workshop and the ma-
terials, the position and posture of the
workers enable us easily to reconstruct the
scene, though it be abruptly suspended and
not renewed so long as our inspection lasts.

One fact, to begin with, thrusts itself upon
our attention, a fact of deep interest and so
exceptional that this is the first example with
which my entomological studies have pre-
sented me. In each burrow laid bare I al-
ways find two collaborators, a pair : I find the
male lending the mother his assistance. The
household dudes are divided between the two.
My notes give the following scene, to which
we can easily restore its animation according
to the pose of the immobihzed actors.

The male is at the back of the gallery,
squatting on a length of sausage measuring
barely an inch. He occupies the basin
formed through the stuff's being packed more
tightly in the centre of each stratum. What
was he doing before the violation of his
home? His attitude tells us clearly: with his
sturdy legs, especially the hind-legs, he was
pressing down the last layer placed in posi-
tion. His mate occupies the upper floor, al-
30s

The Sacred Beetle and Others

most at the opening of the burrow. I see
her holding between her legs a great lump of
material which she has just gathered at the
bottom of the heap surmounting the house.
The scare caused by my intrusion has not
made her let go. Hanging up there, above
space, braced against the walls of the pit, she
clasps her burden with a sort of cataleptic
obstinacy. The nature of the Interrupted
work is easily guessed: Baucis was carrying
down to Philemon, the stronger of the two,
the wherewithal to continue the arduous work
of piling and trampling. After laying the
egg and surrounding It with those delicate
precautions of which a mother alone possesses
the secret, she had handed over the construc-
tion of the cylinder to her companion, confi-
ning herself to playing the humble part of a
caterer's man.

Similar scenes, observed during different
phases of the work, enable me to draw a ge-
neral picture. The sausage begins with a
short, wide casing which closely lines the bot-
tom of the burrow. In this bag, with its
yawning mouth, I find the two sexes In the
midst of materials crumbled and possibly
weeded before being pressed, so that the grub
may have first-class victuals within its reach
as soon as It starts feeding. The couple be-
306

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

tween them plaster the walls and increase
their thickness until the cavity is reduced to
the size needed for the hatching-chamber.

This is the moment for laying the egg.
Withdrawing discreetly, the male waits with
materials ready to close the cell that has just
been filled. The closing is done by bringing
the edges of the sack nearer together and
adding a ceiling, a hermetically cemented lid.
This is the delicate part of the work, calling
for knack much more than strength. The
mother alone attends to it. Philemon is now
a mere journeyman-mason : he passes the mor-
tar, without being allowed on the ceihng,
which his brutal pressure might cause to
fall in.

Soon the roof, duly thickened and rein-
forced, has nothing more to fear from press-
ure. Then the ruthless stamping begins, the
rough work which transfers the leading part
to the male. In the Stercoraceous Geotrupes
the difference between the sexes in size and
vigour is striking. Here indeed we have a
very exceptional case: Philemon belongs to
the stronger sex. He is distinguished by his
portly figure and muscular energy. Take
him in your hand and squeeze. I defy you
to stand it, if your skin is at all sensitive to
pain. With his sharp-toothed and convul-
307

The Sacred Beetle and Others

sively stiffened legs, he digs into your flesh;
he slips like an irresistible wedge into the
spaces between your fingers. It is more than
you can bear; and you have to let the creature
go.

In the household he performs the function
of an hydraulic press. We subject our packs
of fodder to the action of the press in order
to reduce their cumbrous bulk; he likewise
compresses and reduces the stringy materials
of his sausage. It is most often the male
that I find at the top of the cylinder, a top
excavated to form a deep basket. This
basket receives the load brought down by the
mother; and, like the labourer trampling on
the grapes at the bottom of the vintage-tub,
the Geotrupes presses and amalgamates his
materials with the convulsive effort of his gal-
vanic movements. The operation is so well
conducted that the new load, at first not unlike
a voluminous mass of coarse lint, becomes a
compact layer uniform with the one before it.

The mother meanwhile does not abdicate
her rights: I find her from time to time at
the bottom of the basin. Perhaps she comes
to see how the work is going on. Her touch,
which is better-suited for the delicate part of
the rearing, will more readily discover the
mistakes that need correcting. Very hkely
308

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

also she comes to relieve her husband in these
exhausting compressive operations. She her-
self Is strong, sturdy in the legs and capable
of working turn and turn about with her
valiant companion.

However, her usual place Is at the top of
the gallery. I find her there at one time with
the armful which she has just gathered, at
another with a heap made up of several loads
placed In reserve for the work down below.
As and when It Is wanted, she draws upon the
heap and gradually carries the materials down
to be pressed by the male.

Between this temporary warehouse and the
basin at the bottom there Is a long empty
space, the lower part of which supplies us
with another bit of information as to the
progress of the work. The walls are lavishly
coated with a wash extracted from the most
plastic portion of the materials. This detail
Is not without value. It tells us that, before
packing the food-sausage layer by layer, the
Insect begins by cementing the rough and
porous wall of the mould. It putties Its well
to protect the grub against the damp which
might ooze through In the rainy season.
Finding It Impossible by pressure to harden
the skin of the tightly-packed sausage to the
requisite degree, it adopts a means unknown
. 309

The Sacred Beetle and Others

to those who labour in large workshops; it
coats the earthy casing with cement. In this
way it avoids, so far as lies in its power, the
risk of drowning on rainy days.

This waterproofing is done at intervals, as
the cylinder grows in length. The mother
appears to me to attend to it whenever her
warehouse of provisions is sufficiently stocked
to give her the time. While her companion
is pressing, she, an inch higher up, is plas-
tering.

At last the combined efforts of husband and
wife result in a cylinder of the regulation
length. The greater part of the well above
remains empty and uncemented. Nothing
tells me that the Geotrupes trouble about this
unoccupied area. Scarabaei and Copres
shoot into the entrance-passage to the under-
ground chamber a portion of the rubbish
extracted; they build a barricade in front of
the dwelling. The sausage-makers seem to
be unfamihar with this precaution. All the
burrows which I inspect are empty in the
upper part. There is no sign of excavated
earth put back and pressed into position;
there is merely a little fallen rubbish, coming
either from the dung-heap above or from the
crumbling walls.

This neglect might well be ascribed to the
310

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

thick roof that surmounts the house. Re-
member that the Geotrupes generally settle
under the copious provender which the Horse
and the Mule bestow upon them. Under
such a shelter, is It really necessary to bolt
one's door? Besides, the rough weather
looks after the closing for them. The roof
falls in, the earth slips and the yawning pit
soon fills up without the assistance of those
who dug it.

Just now my pen ventured to write the
names of Philemon and Baucis. As a matter
of fact, the Geotrupes couple do in certain
respects recall the peaceful mythological
household. What is the male, in the insect
world? Once the wedding has been cele-
brated, he is an incompetent, an idler, a good-
for-nothing, a drug in the market whom
others shun and sometimes even get rid of by
atrocious means. The Praying Mantis ^
tells us tragic enough things in this connect-
ion.

Now here, by a very curious exception, the
sluggard becomes a toiler; the lover of the
moment a faithful husband; the careless pa-
rent a serious paterfamilias. The brief
meeting changes into a lasting partnership.

1 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps, vi. to ix. —
Translator's Note.

311

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Married life, domestic life comes into being:
a glorious innovation; and the pioneer is a
Dung-beetle ! Go downwards : there is no-
thing resembling it; go upwards: for a long
time there is still nothing. We have to
mount to the top of the scale.

Take that little fish of our brooks, the
Stickleback. The male knows very well how
to build out of algae and different water-
weeds a nest, a snuggery, in which the female
will come and spawn; but he knows nothing
of work shared in common. The cares of a
family in which the mother takes little interest
fall upon him alone. No matter: there is
one step gained, a great one and especially a
very remarkable one among fishes, who are
so supremely indifferent to family-affection
and substitute an appalling fecundity for the
trouble of breeding. Fabulous figures make
good the voids due to the lack of industry in
the parents, even in the mother, a mere bag
for eggs.

Certain Toads attempt the duties of pater-
nity; and then we have nothing more till we
come to the bird, that paragon of the dome-
stic virtues. Here we find married life in all
its moral beauty. A contract turns the
couple into two collaborators, both equally
zealous for the prosperity of the family.
312

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

The father takes just as much part as the
mother in the building of the nest, the quest
for provisions, the distribution of each mouth-
ful and the supervision of the youngsters as
they try their wings preliminary to their first
flight.

Standing still higher in the animal scale,
the mammal carries on the wonderful exam-
ple without adding to it; on the contrary, it
often simplifies things. Man remains and
has no prouder title to nobility than his un-
wearying care for the family, that alliance
which is never dissolved. To our shame, I
admit, a few individuals deny their re-
sponsibility and sink below the level of the
Toad.

The Geotrupes rivals the bird. The nest
is the joint production of husband and wife.
The father puts the various layers together
and compresses them; the mother plasters
the walls, fetches fresh loads and places them
under the presser's feet. This home, the out-
come of the couple's efforts, is also a store-
house of provisions. Here we see no mouth-
fuls distributed to the children from day to
day, but the food-problem is solved none the
less: the united labours of the two partners
result in the sumptuous sausage. Father and
mother have done their duty splendidly; they
313

The Sacred Beetle and Others

bequeath to the grub an eminently well-
furnished larder.

A pair that continue to exist as such, a
couple that join forces and unite their indus-
try for their offspring's welfare certainly re-
present enormous progress, perhaps the
greatest in the animal kingdom. One day, in
the midst of the isolated existences, the house-
hold appeared, the invention of an inspired
Dung-beetle. How is it that his magnificent
acquirement is the property of a few, instead
of extending all around, from one species to
another, throughout the guild? Can it be
that Scarabsei and Copres would have no-
thing to gain, in saving of time and labour, if
the mother, instead of working alone, had an
assistant? Things would move faster, so it
seems to me, and a more numerous family
would be permissible, a possibihty not to be
despised when one has an eye to the pro-
sperity of the species.

How, on his side, did the Geotrupes think
of combining the two sexes in building the
nest and stocking the larder? The abrupt
transformation of the usual airy paternity of
the insect into something that rivals mother-
hood in tenderness is so serious and so rare an
event that one longs to discover the cause of
it, If indeed we may hope to do so with the
314

The Geotrupes: Nest-building

sorry means of information at our disposal.
One idea occurs to us at once : may there not
be some connection between the male's supe-
rior size and his liking for hard work? En-
dowed with greater robustness and vigour
than the mother, he who is usually so lazy has
become a zealous helper; the love of work
has come from a superabundance of unspent
strength.

Take care : this apparent explanation will
not hold water. The two sexes of the Mimic
Geotrupes scarcely differ in size; the advan-
tage is often even in the female's favour; and
nevertheless the male lends assistance to his
companion: he is as eager a well-sinker, as
energetic a presser as his big stercoraceous
kinsman.

And here is a still more conclusive argu-
ment: among the Anthidia/ those Bees who
weave cotton-stuffs or knead resin, the male,
though much larger than the female, is an
absolute idler. He, so strong, so stout of
hmb, take part in the work! Never! Let
the mother, the feeble mother, wear herself
out while he, powerful fellow that he Is,
frolics among the speedwell and the lavender.

It is not physical strength, therefore, that

1 Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chaps, ix. and x.—

Translator's Note.

315

The Sacred Beetle and Others

has made the Geotruplan paterfamilias Into
a worker devoted to his children's welfare.
And this is as much as our investigations tell
us. To pursue the problem would be a vain
endeavour. The origin of faculties escapes
us. Why is this gift bestowed here and that
gift there? Who knows? Can we indeed
ever hope to know?

One point alone stands out clearly : instinct
is not dependent on structure.

The Geotrupes have been known from
time immemorial; conscientious entomolo-
gists, peering through their magnifying-
.glasses, have examined them down to their
smallest details; and no one has yet suspected
their marvellous privilege of keeping house in
common. Above the monotonous level of
the ocean suddenly emerge the headlands of
lonely little islands, scattered here and there,
whose existence none can suspect until geo-
graphy has added them to her charts. Even
so do the peaks of instinct rear their crests
above the ocean of life.

316

CHAPTER XIV

THE GEOTRUPES: THE LARVA

THE egg takes from one to two weeks to
hatch, according as it is laid in October
or September. As a rule the hatching takes
place in the first fortnight of October. The
larva grows pretty quickly and soon mani-
fests very different characteristics from those
displayed by the other Dung-beetles. We
find ourselves in a new world, full of sur-
prises. The grub is folded in two, it is bent
into a hook, as required by the narrowness
of the cell, which is scooped out gradually
as the inside of the sausage is consumed.

Even so did the grubs of the Sacred Beetle,
the Copris and the others comport them-
selves; but the larva of the Geotrupes has not
the hump that gave the first-named such an
ungainly figure. Its back is curved regu-
larly. This entire absence of a knapsack, of
a putty-bag, points to different habits. The
larva, in fact, is not acquainted with the art
of plugging crevices. If I contrive an open-
ing in the part of the sausage which it occu-
317 .

The Sacred Beetle and Others

pies, I do not see it taking note of the hole,
turning round and forthwith repairing the
damage with a few pats of a trowel well-
supphed with cement. The access of the air
does not trouble it apparently, or rather there
is no provision against this in its means of
defence.

You have only to take a glance at its dwell-
ing. What would be the use of the plaster-
er's art of stopping up crannies, when the
house simply cannot crack? Closely
moulded in the cylinder of the burrow, the
sausage Is preserved from crumbling to dust
by the support of Its mould. The Sacred
Beetle's pear, which is free on every side in a
large underground cavity, often swells, splits,
peels off. The Geotrupes' sausage, being
packed In a casing. Is free from these Imper-
fections. Besides, If It were to burst, the
accident would not be serious, for now, in
autumn and winter, in a soil that Is always
damp and fresh, there is no fear of that desic-
cation which Is so greatly dreaded by the pill-
rollers. Hence there Is no special Industry
designed to circumvent a peril that Is unlikely
and of httle consequence ; no excessively do-
cile Intestine to keep the trowel supplied; no
ugly hump to act as a mortar-magazine.
The inexhaustible evacuator of our earlier
318

The Geotrupes: the Larva

studies disappears and is replaced by a grub
whose motions are more moderate.

Obviously, big eater as the larva is and,
moreover, sequestered in a cell allowing of
no communication with the outside, it is ut-
terly ignorant of what we call cleanliness.
Let us not take this to mean that it is dis-
gustingly filthy, soiled with excrement: we
should be making a grave mistake. Nothing
could be neater or glossier than its satiny
skin. We wonder what pains it must take
over its toilet, or else what special grace
enables all these eaters of ordure to keep
themselves so clean. Seeing them outside
their usual environment, no one would su-
spect their sordid life.

We must look elsewhere for any defect in
cleanliness, if indeed it is right to give the
name of defect to a quality which, all things
considered, makes for the creature's good.
Language, the one and only mirror of our
thoughts, easily goes astray and becomes
treacherous when endeavouring to express
reality. Let us substitute the larva's point
of view for our own, let us throw off the man
and become the Dung-beetle: offensive epi-
thets will disappear forthwith.

The grub, that mighty eater, has no rela-
tions with the outside world. What is it to
319

The Sacred Beetle and Others

do with the remains of what it has digested?
Far from being embarrassed by them, it takes
advantage of them, as do many other soH-
taries cabined in a shell. It uses them to
keep out the draughts from its hermitage and
to pad it with quilting. It spreads them into
a soft couch, grateful to its delicate skin; it
builds them into a polished niche, a water-
tight alcove which will protect the long winter
torpor. I told you that one had but to ima-
gine one's self a Dung-beetle for a moment in
order to change one's language utterly. Be-
hold that which was hateful and burdensome
turned into something of value, which will
contribute largely to the grub's welfare.
Onthophagi and Copres, Scarabaei and Gym-
nopleuri have accustomed us to this kind of
industry.

The sausage is in an upright position, or
nearly so. The hatching-chamber is at the
bottom end. As the grub grows, it attacks
the provisions overhead, but does not touch
the wall around, which is of considerable
thickness. It has indeed so huge a dish at its
disposal that abstinence becomes no difficult
matter. The Sacred Beetle's grub, which
has no occasion to take precautions against
the winter, has a very skimpy helping. Its
little pear is a niggardly ration and is con-
320

The Geotrupes: the Larva

sumed throughout, all but a slender wall,
which the Inmate, however, takes care to
thicken and strengthen with a good layer of
its mortar. The grub of the Geotrupes is
very differently situated. It is supplied with
a colossal sausage, representing nearly a
dozen times as much as the other provisions.
However well-endowed it be with stomach
and appetite, it could not possibly consume
the whole lot. Besides, the question of food
is not the only one to be considered this time :
there is also the serious matter of the hiber-
nation. The parents foresaw the severity
of the winter and bequeathed their sons the
wherewithal to face it. The giant roly-poly
will become a blanket against the cold.

The grub, as a matter of fact, gnaws bit
by bit the part above and scoops out a
corridor just wide enough to pass through.
In this way, a very thick wall is left intact,
the central part alone being consumed. As
the sheath is bored, the sides are at the same
time cemented and lined with evacuations of
the intestine. Any excess product accumu-
lates and forms a rampart behind.

So long as the weather remains favourable,
the grub moves about in its gallery; it takes
its stand above or below and attacks the pro-
visions with a tooth that grows daily more
321

The Sacred Beetle and Others

languid. Five or six weeks are thus passed
in banqueting; then comes the cold weather,
bringing the winter torpor with It. The grub
now digs itself an oval recess, polished by
much wriggling of its body, at the lower end
of its case, in the mass of material which di-
gestion has transformed into a fine paste; it
protects itself with a curved canopy; and It is
ready to enjoy its winter slumbers. It can
sleep In peace. If its parents have installed
it underground at an Inconsiderable depth to
which the frost pentrates, at any rate they
have increased the supply of victuals to the
utmost. The effect of this enormous super-
fluity Is to provide an excellent dwelling for
the bad weather.

In December, the grub Is full-grown, or not
far short of it. If the temperature only lent
a hand, the nymphosis would now be due.
But times are hard; and the grub, in Its wis-
dom, decides to defer the delicate work of
transformation. Sturdy creature that it is,
It will be able to resist the cold much better
than the nymph, that frail beginning of a new
life. It therefore has patience and tarries
In a state of torpor. I take it from its cell to
examine it.

Convex on top and almost flat below, the
larva is a semlcyllnder bent into a hook.
322

The Geotrupes: the Larva

There is an entire absence of the hump be-
longing to the previous Dung-beetles; hke-
wise of any terminal trowel. The plasterer's
art of repairing crevices being unknown here,
there is no need for the cement-pot or the
spreading-utensil. The creature's skin is
smooth and white, clouded in the hinder half
by the dark contents of the intestines.
Sparse hairs, some fairly long, others very
short, stand up on the median and dorsal
region of the segments. They apparently
serve to help the grub move about its cell by
the mere wriggling of its hinder part. The
head is neither big nor small and is pale-
yellow in colour; the mandibles are large and
brown at the tip.

But let us leave these details, which are of
no great interest, and say at once that the
creature's prominent characteristic is supplied
by its legs. The first two pairs are pretty
long, especially for an animal leading a seden-
tary life in a narrow cabin. They are norm-
ally constructed; and it must be their strength
that allows the grub to clamber about inside
its pudding, converted into a sheath by eating.
But the third pair presents a peculiarity of
which I know no example elsewhere.

The limbs forming this pair are rudiment-
ary legs, crippled from birth, impotent, ar-
323

The Sacred Beetle and Others

rested in their development. They give one
the impression of lifeless stumps. Their
length is hardly a third of that of the others.
More remarkable still, instead of pointing
downwards like the normal legs, they shrivel
upwards, turning towards the back, and
remain indefinitely in that queer attitude,
twisted and stiff. I cannot succeed in seeing
the animal make the slightest use of them.
Nevertheless they show the same joints as the
others; but this is all on a greatly reduced
scale, pale and inert. In short, a couple of
words will distinguish the Geotrupes' larva
without any possibility of confusion : hind-legs
atrophied.

This feature is so plain, so striking, so
extraordinary that the least observant among
us cannot mistake it. A grub crippled by
nature and so evidently crippled enforces it-
self on our attention. What do the books
say about it? Nothing, so far as I know.
The few which I have with me are silent on
this point. Mulsant, it is true, described the
larva of the Stercoraceous Geotrupes; but he
makes no mention of its exceptional structure.
In his anxiety to describe the minutest details
of the organism, has he lost sight of this mon-
strosity? Labrum, palpi, antennae, the num-
ber of joints, the hairs: all this is set down
324

The Geotrupes: the Larva

and scrutinized ; and the lifeless legs reduced
to stumps are passed over in silence. Are
the experts then so busy with the Gnat that
they cannot see the Camel? I give it up.

Observe also that the hind-legs of the per-
fect insect are longer and stronger than the
middle-legs and vie with the fore-legs in vi-
gour. The atrophied limbs of the grub,
therefore, become the adult's powerful press-
ing-machine ; the impotent stumps change into
strong stamping-tools.

Who will tell us the origin of these anoma-
lies now thrice observed among the dung-
workers? The Sacred Beetle, who is sound
in every limb during his infancy, loses his
fore-fingers when the adult form appears;
the Onthophagus, who sports a horn on his
thorax in his nymphal stage, drops it and does
without the ornament in the end; the Geo-
trupes, at first a limping grub, turns his use-
less stumps into the best of his levers. The
last-named makes progress; the others retro-
cede. Why does the cripple become able-
bodied and why do the able-bodied become
cripples?

We make chemical analyses of the suns;

we surprise the nebulae in labour and watch

the birth of worlds; and shall we never know

why a miserable grub is born limping?

325

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Come, ye divers who fathom hfe's mysteries,
descend a httle further into the depths and at
least bring us back, that humble pearl, the
reply to the problems of the Geotrupes and
the Sacred Beetle !

When the weather is severe, what becomes
of the larva in the retreat which it has suc-
ceeded in making at the lower end of its box?
The exceptional cold of January and Feb-
ruary 1895 will answer this question. My
cages, always left in the open air, had repeat-
edly undergone a drop in temperature of
some ten degrees below freezing-point. In
this arctic weather, I conceived a wish to go
in search of information and learn how things
were progressing in my unprotected cages.

I could not manage it. The bed of earth,
wetted by the earlier rains, had become a
compact block throughout, which I should
have had to break up like a stone with a
hammer and chisel. Extraction by violent
means was not practicable: I should have en-
dangered everything with my hammering.
On the other hand, if any life remained in the
frozen mass, I should have placed it in jeo-
pardy by changing the temperature too sud-
denly. It was better to await the very slow
natural thaw.

Early in March I inspect the cages again.
326

The Geotrupes: the Larva

This time there is no Ice left. The earth is
yielding and easy to dig. All the adult Geo-
trupes have died, bequeathing me a fresh
supply of sausages, almost as plentiful as that
which I had gathered and placed in safety in
October. They have all perished; there is
not a single survivor. Is cold or old age to
blame?

At this very time and later, In April and
May, when the new generation Is wholly In
the larval or at most in the nymphal stage, I
often find adult Geotrupes busy in their sca-
venging-works. The old ones therefore see
a second spring; they live long enough to
know their children and to work with them,
as do the Scarabaei, Copres and others.
These early insects are veterans. They have
escaped the hardships of winter because they
have been able to bury themselves far enough
underground. Mine, kept captive between a
few boards, have died for want of a suffi-
ciently deep pit. At a time when they needed
three feet of earth to shelter themselves,
they had less than twelve Inches. It was
cold, therefore, that killed them, rather than
age.

The low temperature, while fatal to the
adult, has spared the larva. The few sau-
sages left In position after my October dlg-
2^

The Sacred Beetle and Others

gings contain the grub in excellent condition.
The protecting sheath has fulfilled its office
to perfection: it has preserved the sons from
the catastrophe that caused the death of the
parents.

The other cylinders, fashioned in the
course of November, contain something even
more remarkable. In their hatching-cham-
ber, at the bottom, they hold an egg, all
plump and shiny and as healthy-looking as
though it had been laid that day. Can Hfe
still exist there ? Is it possible, after the best
part of the winter has been passed in a block
of ice? I dare not believe it. The sausage
itself has not an attractive appearance. It is
darkened by fermentation, smells musty and
does not suggest food worth having.

At all events, I will take the precaution of
bottling the miserable puddings, after ascer-
taining that the egg is there in each case. I
was well-advised. The fresh aspect of the
germs, after wintering under, such rude con-
ditions, did not belie them. The hatching
was soon effected; and early in May the late
arrivals were almost as well-developed as
their seniors, hatched in the autumn.

Some interesting facts are revealed by this
piece of observation. First of all, the laying-
period of the Geotrupes is a fairly long one,
328

The Geotrupes: the Larva

lasting from September to some time In No-
vember. At that date the first hoar-frosts
begin; the soil is not warm enough to hatch
the eggs; and the last ones, unable to hatch
as swiftly as their predecessors, wait for the
return of the fine weather. A few mild April
days are enough to reawaken their suspended
vitality. Then the usual evolution goes on
and this so rapidly that, notwithstanding a
delay of five or six months, the backward
larvae are very nearly as big as the others
by May, when the first nymphs appear.

Secondly, the Geotrupes' eggs are capable
of enduring the trials of severe cold un-
scathed. I do not know the exact tempe-
rature Inside the frozen block which I tried
to tackle with a mason's chisel. Outside, the
thermometer sometimes fell to ten degrees
below freezing-point; and, as the cold period
lasted a long time, we may believe that the
layer of earth In my boxes was equally cold.
Now the Geotrupes' puddings were enclosed
in that frozen mass turned to a block of stone.
A generous allowance must no doubt be made
for the non-conductivity of these puddings
composed of thready materials; the wall of
dung did, to a certain extent, protect the
larva and the egg against the biting cold,
which, if experienced direct, would have been
329

The Sacred Beetle and Others

fatal. No matter: in that atmosphere the
dung-cylinders, damp at the start, must in the
long run have acquired the hardness of stone.
In their hatching-chamber, in the tunnel made
by the larva, the temperature undoubtedly
sank below freezing-point.

Then what became of the grub and the
egg? Were they really frozen? Every-
thing seems to tell us so. That this most
delicate of all delicate things, a germ, a rudi-
ment of life in a blob of glair, should harden,
turn into a bit of stone and then resume its
vitality and continue its evolution after thaw-
ing seems inadmissible. And yet circum-
stances confirm it. We should have to credit
the Geotrupes' sausages with athermanous
properties unequalled by any other substance
to regard them as a sufficient protection
against such intense and lasting refrigeration.
What a pity that we could derive no informa-
tion from the thermometer in this instance !
After all, if complete freezing is unproven,
one point has been estabhshed for certain:
the egg and the grub of the Geotrupes can
support and survive very low temperatures
in their protecting sheath.

Since the occasion presents itself, let me
say a few more words on the insect's powers
of resisting cold. Some years ago, while
330

The Geotrupes: the Larva

looking for Scolla-cocoons in a heap of
mould, I had made a large collection of the
grubs of Cetonia aurata} I placed my loot
in a flower-pot with a few handfuls of de-
cayed vegetable matter, just enough to cover
the insects' backs. I intended to draw upon
them for certain enquiries which I was ma-
king at the time. The pot remained in the
open air; and I forgot all about it. A cold
snap came, accompanied by sharp frost and
snow. Then I remembered my Cetoniae, so
ill-protected against this kind of weather. I
found the contents of the pot hardened Into
a conglomeration of earth, dead leaves, ice,
snow and shrivelled grubs. It was a sort of
almond-rock, in which the larvae stood for
the almonds. Sorely tried by the cold as
they were, the colony ought to have perished.
But no: when the thaw arrived, the frozen
larvae came to life again and began to swarm
about as though nothing unusual had hap-
pened.

The insect's powers of endurance are less
great than the larva's. As the organization
becomes more refined, it loses its robustness.
My cages, which went through such a bad

1 The Rose-chafer, whose grub forms the prey of the
Scolia-wasp. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap.
xi. — Translator's Note,

331

The Sacred Beetle and Others

time in the winter of 1895, provided me with
a striking instance. A few species —
Scarabaei, Copres, Pilularii and Onthopliagi
— were represented at the same time by new-
comers and old stagers. All the Geotrupes,
without an exception, died in the earthy bed
which had turned into a block of stone; the
Minotaurs also succumbed, every one of
them. And yet both find their way up north
and are not afraid of cold climates. On the
other hand, the southern species, the Sacred
Beetle, the Spanish Copris and Pilularius
flageUatus, the younger generation as well as
the veterans, withstood the winter better than
I dared hope. Many of them died, it is
true; they formed the majority; but at any
rate there were survivors whom I marvelled
to see recovering from their icy paralysis,
trotting about under the first kisses of the
sun. In April, those specimens which have
escaped from freezing resume their labours.
They teach me that, when at liberty, Copres
and Scarabaei have no need to retire to
winter quarters at great depths underground.
A moderate screen of earth, in some shel-
tered nook, is enough for them. Less skilful
diggers than the Geotrupes, they are better-
provided with the power to resist a passing
spell of cold.

332

The Geotrupes: the Larva

We will end this digression by remarking,
as so many others have done, that agriculture
cannot reckon on the cold weather to rid
it of its dread enemy, the insect. Very hard
frosts, lasting a long time and penetrating
well beneath the surface of the soil, can
destroy various species which are not able
to go down low enough; but a great many
survive. Moreover, the grub and especially
the egg in many cases defy our severest
winters.

The first five days of April put an end to
the torpor of the larvae of both Geotrupes,
snuggling on the bottom floor of their
cylinder, in a temporary cell. Activity re-
turns, bringing with it a last flicker of ap-
petite. The remains of the autumn banquet
are plentiful. The grub makes use of them
no longer for greedy feasting, but just as a
midnight snack between two slumbers, that
of winter and the deeper sleep of the
metamorphosis. Hence the sides of the
sheath are attacked spasmodically. Breaches
yawn, sections of wall come tumbling down
and soon the edifice is nothing but an un-
recognizable ruin.

The lower portion of the original sausage
remains, however, with its walls intact for a
length of an Inch or two. Here, in a thick

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The Sacred Beetle and Others

layer, the grub's excreta are accumulated,
held in reserve for the final work. In the
centre of this mass, a hollow is dug, care-
fully poHshed inside. With the excavated
rubbish, the grub builds not just a canopy,
like that with which the winter alcove was
protected, but a solid lid, with a rough outer
surface, in appearance not unlike the work of
the Cetonias when they wrap themselves in
a shell of mould. This lid, with what is left
■of the pudding, forms a habitation which
would remind us pretty closely of the Cock-
chafer's dwelling, were it not truncated in the
upper part, which moreover is most often
topped by a few remnants from the destroyed
cylinder.

The grub is now shut in for the transform-
ation, motionless, with its body emptied of
all dross. In a few days a blister appears
on the dorsal surface of the last abdominal
segments. This swells, spreads and gradu-
ally extends as far as the thorax. It is
the work of excoriation beginning. Dis-
tended by a colourless liquid, the blister
gives an uncertain glimpse of a sort of milky
cloud, the first blurred outhne of the new
organism.

The thorax splits in front, the cast skin
is slowly pushed backwards and at last we

334

The Geotrupes: the Larva

have the nymph, all white, half-opaque and
half-crystalline. I obtain my first nymphs
about the beginning of May.

Four or five weeks later, the perfect in-
sect arrives, white on the wing-cases and
belly, while the rest of the body already
possesses the normal colouring. The
chromatic evolution is quickly completed;
and, before the end of June, the Geotrupes,
now perfectly matured, emerges from the
soil at twilight and flies off to start on his
scavenger's job without delay. The lag-
gards, those whose egg has gone through
the winter, are still in the white nymphal
stage when their elders effect their release.
Not before September is nigh will they burst
their natal shell and, in their turn, sally forth
to aid in the cleansing of the fields.

335

CHAPTER XV

THE SISYPHUS: THE INSTINCT OF
PATERNITY

THE duties of paternity are hardly ever
imposed on any except the higher
animals. The bird excels in them; and the
furred folk perform them honourably.
Lower in the scale, the father is generally in-
different to his family. Very few insects
form exceptions to this rule. Whereas all
display a frenzied ardour In propagating
their species, nearly all, having satisfied the
passion of the moment, promptly break off
domestic relations and retire, heedless of
their brood, which must do the best that it
can for itself.

This paternal coldness, which would be
detestable in the higher ranks of the animal
kingdom, where the weakness of the young
demands prolonged assistance, has here as
its excuse the robustness of the new-born
insect, which is able unaided to gather its
food, provided that it be in a propitious
place. When all that the Pieris need do,
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The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

to safeguard the prosperity of the race, is
to lay her eggs on the leaves of a cabbage,
what use would a father's solicitude be?
The mother's botanical instinct requires no
assistance. At laying-time, the other parent
would be an obstacle. Let him go and flirt
elsewhere; at that critical time he would only
be in the way.

Most insects are equally summary in their
educational methods. They have but to
choose the refectory which will be the home
of the family once it is hatched, or else a
place that will allow their young to find
suitable fare for themselves. There is no
need for the father in these cases. After
the wedding, therefore, the unoccupied male,
henceforth useless, drags out a languid exist-
ence for a few days more and at last dies
without lending the least assistance in the
work of setting up his offspring in life.

Things do not always happen in quite such
a primitive fashion. There are tribes that
provide a dower for their families, that
prepare board and lodging for them in
advance. The Bees and Wasps, in particu-
lar, are masters in the industry of making
cellars, jars and satchels In which the mess
of honey for the young is hoarded; they are
perfect in the art of creating burrows stocked
337

The Sacred Beetle and Others

with the game that forms the food of their
grubs.

Well, this enormous labour, which is one
of building and provisioning combined, this
toil, in which the insect's whole life is spent,
is done by the mother alone. It wears her
out, it utterly exhausts her. The father,
drunk with sunlight, stands by the edge of
the workyard watching his plucky helpmate
at her job and considers himself to have done
all the work that he is called upon to do when
he has toyed a little with his fair neighbours.

Why does he not lend the mother a helping
hand? It is now or never. Why does he
not follow the example of the Swallow
couple, both of whom bring their bit of straw,
their blob of mortar to the building, their
Midge to the brood? He does nothing of
the kind, perhaps alleging his comparative
weakness as an excuse. It is a poor argu-
ment, for to cut a disk out of a leaf, to scrape
some cotton from a downy plant, to collect
a httle bit of cement in muddy places would
not overtax his strength. He could very
easily help, at any rate as a labourer; he is
quite fit to gather the materials for the
mother, with her greater intelligence, to fix
in place. The real reason of his inactivity
is sheer ineptitude.

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The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

It is strange that the Hymenopteron, the
most gifted of the industrial insects, should
know nothing of paternal labour. The
male, in whom one would think that the needs
of the young ought to develop the highest
aptitudes, remains as dull-witted as a Butter-
fly, whose family is established at so small a
cost. The bestowal of instinct baffles our
most reasonable conjectures.

It baffles them so thoroughly that we are
extremely surprised when we find in the
muck-raker the noble prerogative denied
to the honey-gatherer. Various Dung-
beetles are accustomed to help in the burden
of housekeeping and know the value of
working in double harness. Remember the
Geotrupes couple, preparing their larva's
portion together; think of the father lending
his mate the assistance of his powerful press
in the manufacture of the tight-packed
sausages, a splendid example of domestic
habits and one extremely surprising amid the
general egoism.

To this example, hitherto unique, my con-
stant studies of the subject enable me to-day
to add three others, which are equally
interesting; and all three are likewise
furnished by the Dung-beetle guild. I will
describe them, but briefly, for in many
339

The Sacred Beetle and Others

particulars their story is the same as that of
the Sacred Beetle, the Spanish Copris and the
others.

The first case Is that of the Sisyphus (5.
Schaferi, LiN.), the smallest and most
zealous of our pill-rollers. He is the liveli-
est and most agile of them all, recking no-
thing of awkward somersaults and head-
long falls on the impossible tracks to which
his obstinacy brings him back again and
again. It was in memory of these wild
gymnastics that Latreille gave him the name
of Sisyphus, famous in the annals of
Tartarus. The unhappy wretch had the
terrible task of having to roll a huge stone
up hill; and each time he had toiled to the
top of the mountain the stone would slip
from his grasp and roll to the bottom. Try
again, poor Sisyphus, try again and go on
trying: your punishment will not be over until
the rock is firmly fixed up there.

I like this myth. It is in a fashion the
history of a good many of us, not detestable
scoundrels worthy of eternal torments, but
decent, hard-working folk, doing their duty
by their neighbours. They have one crime
only to expiate: that of poverty. So far as
I am concerned, for half a century and more
I have painfully climbed that steep ascent,
340

The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

leaving garments stained with blood and
sweat on its sharp crags; I have strained
every nerve, drained myself dry, spent my
strength recklessly in the struggle to hoist
up to safety that crushing burden, my daily
bread; and hardly is the loaf balanced when
it slips off, slides down and is lost in the abyss.
Try again, poor Sisyphus, try again until the
load, falling for the last time, smashes your
head and sets you free at last.

The Sisyphus of the naturalists knows
none of these bitter trials. Untroubled by
the steep slopes, he gaily trundles his load,
at one time bread for himself, at another for
his children. He is very scarce in these
parts; and I should never have managed to
procure a suitable number of subjects for my
purpose but for an assistant whom I ought
to present to the reader, for he will play his
part more than once in these narratives.

I speak of my son Paul, a little chap of
seven. My assiduous companion on my
hunting-expeditions, he knows better than any
one of his age the secrets of the Cicada,
the Locust, the Cricket and especially the
Dung-beetle, his great delight. Twenty
paces away, his sharp eyes will distinguish
the real mound that marks a burrow from
casual heaps of earth; his delicate ears catch
341

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the Grasshopper's faint stridulation, which
to me remains silence. He lends me his
sight and hearing; and I, in exchange, pre-
sent him with ideas, which he receives atten-
tively, raising wide, blue, questioning eyes to
mine.

Oh, what an adorable thing is the first
blossoming of the intellect; what a beautiful
age is that when innocent curiosity awakens,
enquiring into all things ! So little Paul has
his own vivarium, in which the Sacred Beetle
makes pears for him; his own little garden,
no larger than a pocket-handkerchief, where
he grows beans, often digging them up to see
if the tiny roots are growing longer; his
forest plantation, in which stand four oaks
a hand's-breadth high, still furnished on one
side with the twin-breasted acorn that feeds
them. It all makes a welcome change from
dry grammar, which gets on none the worse
for it.

What beautiful and delightful things
natural history could put Into children's heads
if science would but stoop to charm the
young; if our barracks of colleges would but
add the living study of the fields to the life-
less study of books; if the red tape of the
curriculum beloved by bureaucrats did not
strangle any eager initiative ! Little Paul,
342

[The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

my boy, let us study as much as we can in the
open country, among the rosemary- and
arbutus-shrubs. By so doing, we shall gain
in vigour of body and mind; we shall find
more of the true and the beautiful than in
any old musty books.

To-day we are giving the blackboard a
rest; it is a holiday. We get up early, in
view of the contemplated expedition, so early
indeed that you will have to start without
your breakfast. Have no fear : when your
appetite comes, we will call a halt in the shade
and you shall find in my bag the usual viati-
cum, an apple and a piece of bread. The
month of May is near at hand; the Sisyphus
must have appeared. What we have to do
now is to explore, at the foot of the mountain,
the lean meadows where the flocks have been;
we shall have to break with our fingers, one
by one, the cakes dropped by the Sheep and
baked by the sun, but still retaining a kernel
of crumb under their crust. There we shall
find the Sisyphus huddled, waiting for the
fresher windfall with which the evening
grazers will supply him.

Instructed in this secret, which I learnt

long ago from chance discoveries, little Paul

forthwith becomes a master in the art of

shelling Sheep-droppings. He displays such

343

The Sacred Beetle and Others

zeal and such an instinct for the best morsels
that, after a very few halts, I am rich beyond
my fondest hopes. Behold me the proud own-
er of six couples of Sisyphi, an unprecedented
treasure, which I was far from expecting.

It will not be necessary to rear these in
the vivarium. A wire-gauze cover is
enough, with a bed of sand and a supply of
victuals to their liking. They are so small,
hardly the size of a cherry-stone ! And so
curious in shape withal! Dumpy body; the
hinder end pointed; and very long legs,
resembling a Spider's when outspread: the
hind-legs are of inordinate length and curved,
which is most useful for clasping and
squeezing the pellet.

Pairing takes place about the beginning of
May, on the surface of the ground, amid
the remains of the cake on which the couple
have been feasting. Soon the time comes
for estabhshing the family. With equal zeal,
husband and wife alike take part in knead-
ing, carting and stowing away the bread for
the children. With the cleaver of the fore-
legs a morsel of the right size is cut from the
lump placed at their disposal. Father and
mother manipulate the piece together, giving
it little pats, pressing it and fashioning it into
a ball as large as a big pea.

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The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

As in the Sacred Beetle's workshop, the
mathematically round shape is obtained with-
out the mechanical trick of rolling the ball.
The fragment is modelled into a sphere be-
fore it is moved, before it is even loosened
from its support. Here again we have an
expert in geometry familiar with the form
that is best adapted to make preserved food-
stuffs keep for a long time.

The pellet is soon ready. It must now,
by vigorous rolling, be made to acquire the
crust which will protect the crumb from too-
rapid evaporation. The mother, who can
be recognized by her slightly larger size,
harnesses herself in the place of honour, in
front. With her long hind-legs on the
ground and her fore-legs on the ball, she
hauls it towards her backwards. The father
pushes behind in the reverse position, head
downwards. It is precisely the same method
as the Sacred Beetle's, when working in twos,
but with another object. The Sisyphus team
convey a larva's dowry, whereas the big pill-
rollers trundle a banquet which the two
fortuitous partners will eat up underground.

The couple start, for no definite goal,
across such impediments as the ground may
present. These obstacles are impossible to
avoid in this backward march; and, if they

345

The Sacred Beetle and Others

were perceived, the Sisyphus would not try
to go round them, as witness her obstinacy
in trying to climb the wirework of the cage.
This is an arduous and impracticable enter-
prise. Clawing the meshes of the gauze
with her hind-legs, the mother pulls the load
towards her; then, putting her fore-legs
round it, she holds it suspended. The
father, finding nothing to stand upon, clings
to the ball, encrusts himself in it, so to speak,
adding his weight to that of the lump and
taking no further pains. The effort is too
great to last. The ball and its rider, form-
ing one mass, fall to the floor. The mother,
from above, looks for a moment in surprise
and forthwith drops down to recover the
load and renew her impossible attempt to
scale the side. After repeated falls, the
ascent is abandoned.

The carting on level ground is not ef-
fected without impediment either. At every
moment, the load swerves on the mound
made by a bit of gravel; and the team topple
over and kick about, with their bellies in the
air. This is a trifle, the veriest trifle. The
two pick themselves up and resume their
positions as cheerily as ever. These tumbles,
which so often fling the Sisyphus on his back,
cause him no concern; one would even think
346

The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

that they were sought for. After all, the
pill has to be matured, to receive consist-
ency. And, under these conditions, bumps,
blows, falls and jolts are all part of the
programme. This mad steeplechasing goes
on for hours.

At last the mother, regarding the work as
completed, goes off a little way in search of
a favourable site. The father mounts
guard, squatting on the treasure. If his
companion's absence be prolonged, he re-
lieves his boredom by spinning the ball
nimbly between his uplifted hind-legs. He
juggles after a fashion with the precious
pellet; he tests its perfection with the curved
branches of his compasses. To see him
frisking in that jubilant attitude, who can
doubt his lively satisfaction as a pater-
familias assured of the future of his children.

" It's I," he seems to say, " it's I who
kneaded this round, soft loaf; it's I who
made this bread for my sons! "

And he lifts on high, for all to see, this
magnificent testimonial to his industry.

Meanwhile, the mother has selected the
site. A shallow pit is made, a mere begin-
ning of the projected burrow. The ball is
rolled near it. The father, that vigilant
guardian, does not let go, while the mother

347

The Sacred Beetle and Others

digs with her legs and forehead. Soon the
hollow is big enough to hold the pellet, the
sacred thing which she insists on having quite
close to her: she must feel it bobbing up
and down behind her, on her back, safe from
parasites, before she decides to go farther.
She is afraid of what might happen to the
little loaf if it were left on the threshold
of the burrow until the home was completed.
There are plenty of Aphodii and Midges to
grab it. One cannot be too careful.

The pellet therefore is inserted, half in
and half out of the partly-formed basin.
The mother, underneath, gets her legs round
it and pulls; the father, above, lets it down
gently and sees that the hole is not choked
up with falling earth. All goes well. The
digging is resumed and the descent continues,
always with the same caution, one of the
Sisyphi pulling the load, the other regulating
the drop and clearing away anything that
might hinder the operation. A few more
efforts; and the ball disappears underground
with the two miners. What follows for
some time to come can be only a repetition
of what we have just seen. Let us wait half
a day or so.

If we have kept careful watch, we shall
see the father come up again to the surface
348

The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

by himself and crouch in the sand near the
burrow. Detained below by duties in which
her companion can be of no assistance to
her, the mother usually postpones her ap-
pearance till the morrow. At last she
shows herself. The father leaves the place
where he was snoozing and joins her. The
reunited couple go back to the heap of
victuals, refresh themselves and then cut out
another piece, on which again the two work
together, both as regards the modelling and
the carting and storing.

I am delighted with this conjugal fidelity.
That it is really the rule I dare not declare.
There must be flighty Beetles who, in the
hurly-burly under a spreading cake, forget
the first fair pastry-cook whom they helped
with her baking and devote themselves to
others, met by chance; there must be
temporary couples, who divorce each other
after producing a single pill. No matter:
the little that I have seen gives me a high
opinion of the Sisyphus' domestic habits.

Let us recapitulate these habits before
passing on to the contents of the burrow.
The father works just as hard as the mother
at extracting and modelling the lump that is
to constitute a larva's dowry; he shares in
the carting, even though he plays a secondary

349

The Sacred Beetle and Others

part; he keeps watch over the loaf when the
mother is absent looking for a spot at which
to dig the burrow; he helps in the work of
excavation; he carries outside the rubbish
from the cavity; and lastly, to crown these
good qualities, he is to a large extent faith-
ful to his spouse.

The Scarabaeus displays some of these
characteristics. He readily helps in manipu-
lating the pill; when it has to be carted, he
takes his place in a team of two, one
pulling and one pushing. But let me repeat
that the motive of this mutual service is
selfishness : the two fellow-workers labour
and cart the lump only for their own
purpose. To them it is a gala cake and no-
thing more. In that part of her work
which concerns the family, the Scarabaeus
mother has no assistant. Alone she rounds
her sphere, extracts it from the pile, rolls it
backwards by herself in the head-downwards
posture adopted by the male of the Sisyphus
couple; alone she digs her burrow; alone she
stores away its contents. Heedless of the
laying mother and the brood, the other sex
does not assist at all in the exhausting task.
How different from the pigmy pill-roller 1

It is time to inspect the burrow. At no
great depth, we find a tiny niche, just large
350

The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

enough to allow the mother to move around
her work. The smallness of the chamber
tells us that the father cannot remain there
for long. When the studio is ready, he must
go away in order to leave the sculptress
room to turn. We have already seen him
coming back to the surface some time before
the mother.

The contents of the cellar consist of a
single pill, a masterpiece of plastic art. It
is a copy of the Sacred Beetle's pear on a
very much reduced scale, its smallness
making the polish of the surface and the
elegance of the curves all the more striking.
Its main diameter varies between one-half
and three-quarters of an inch. It is the most
artistic achievement of the Dung-beetle's art.

But this perfection Is of brief duration.
Soon the pretty pear Is covered with knotty
excrescences, black and twisted, which dis-
figure It with their blotchy lumps. A part
of the surface, otherwise Intact, disappears
beneath an amorphous mass of eruptions.
The origin of these ugly warts baffled me at
first. I suspected some fungous growth,
some Sphaerlacea, for instance, recognizable
by its black and pimply crust. The larva
showed me my mistake.

As usual, this Is a grub bent into a hook
351

The Sacred Beetle and Others

and carrying on its back a large pouch or
hump, the emblem of a ready evacuator.
Like the Sacred Beetle's, indeed, it excels at
stopping up any accidental holes in its shell
with an instantaneous spray of stercoral
cement, of which it always keeps a supply in
its knapsack. It practises moreover an
art of vermicelli making which is unknown
to the pill-rollers, except the Broad-necked
Scarab, who however but seldom makes use
of it.

The larvae of the various Dung-beetles
employ their digestive residues for plaster-
ing their cell, whose dimensions lend them-
selves to this method of riddance, with-
out the necessity of opening temporary
windows through which to expel the ordure.
Whether because of insufficient space or for
other reasons which escape me, the Sisyphus-
larva, after allowing for the regulation coat-
ing of the interior, ejects the excess of its
products outside.

Let us keep a close eye on a pear whose
inmate is already growing fairly big.
Sooner or later we shall see that the surface
at one point is getting thinner and softer;
and then, through the frail screen, there is
a spurt of dark-green fluid, which subsides
with corkscrew evolutions. One more wart
352

The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity

has been formed. It will turn black as it
dries.

What has happened? The larva has
made a temporary breach in the wall of its
shell; and through the ventilator, which is
still covered with a thin veil, it has excreted
the superfluous cement which it was unable
to use indoors. It has evacuated through
the wall. The window deliberately opened
in no way affects the safety of the grub, as
it is at once closed and hermetically sealed
with the base of the spout, which is com-
pressed by a stroke of the trowel. With
a stopper so quickly placed in position the
food will keep fresh however many holes
are made In the body of the pear. There Is
no danger of the dry air entering.

The Sisyphus also seems to be aware of
the peril which later, in torrid weather,
would threaten her tiny pear, buried at so
slight a depth. She is a very early arrival.
She works in April and May, when the
atmosphere is mild. In the first fortnight
of July, before the terrible dog-days have
arrived, her family burst their shells and go
in search of the heap that will furnish them
with board and lodging during the scorching
time of the year. Then comes the brief
spell of autumn revelry, followed by the
353

The Sacred Beetle and Others

withdrawal underground for the winter
sleep, the awakening in spring and lastly, to
complete the cycle, the pill-rolling festival.

One more observation about the Sisyphus.
My six pairs under the wire-gauze cover
gave me fifty-seven inhabited pellets. This
census shows an average of over nine births
to each couple, a figure which the Sacred
Beetle is far from reaching. To what cause
are we to attribute this flourishing brood?
I can see but one: the fact that the male
works as well as the mother. Family
burdens that would exceed the strength of
one are not too heavy when there are two
to bear them.

354

CHAPTER XVI

THE LUNARY COPRIS; THE BISON
ONITIS

SMALLER than the Spanish Coprls and
less particular about a mild climate, the
Lunary Copris (C. lunaris, LiN.) will con-
firm what the Sisyphus has told us of the
part played by the father's collaboration In
the prosperity of the family. Our country
districts cannot show his match for oddity of
male attire. Like the other, he wears a
horn on his forehead; In addition, he has an
embattled promontory in the middle of his
corselet and a halberd-point and a deep,
crescent-shaped groove on his shoulders.
The climate of Provence and the niggardly
supply of food In a wilderness of thyme do
not suit him. He wants a country that Is
less dry, with meadows where the patches of
cattle-dung will supply him with plenty of
provender.

Unable to reckon on the rare specimens
which we meet here from time to time, I have
stocked my Insect-house with strangers sent
355

The Sacred Beetle and Others

from Tournon by my daughter Aglae.
When April comes, she conducts an in-
defatigable search at my request. Seldom
have so many Cow-claps been lifted with the
point of the sun-shade; seldom have delicate
fingers with so much affection broken the
cakes on the pastures. I thank the heroine
in the name of science !

Her zeal meets with due reward. I be-
come the proud possessor of six couples,
which are immediately installed in the insect-
house where the Spanish Copris used to work
last year. I serve up the national dish, the
superlative bun furnished by my neighbour's
Cow. There is not a sign of home-sickness
among the exiles, who bravely begin their
labours under the mysterious shelter of the
cake.

I make my first excavation in the middle
of June and am delighted with what my knife
gradually lays bare as it cuts up the soil in
thin slices. Each couple has dug itself a
splendid vaulted room in the sand, more
spacious than any that the Sacred Beetle or
the Spanish Copris ever showed me and with
a bolder arch. The greatest breadth is fully
six inches; but the ceiling is very low, rising
to hardly two inches.

The contents correspond with the extrava-
356

The Lunary Copris

gant dimensions of the hall. They form a
dish worthy of the wedding of Camacho the
Rich, a cake as broad as one's hand, of no
great thickness and varying in outline. I
have found them oval-shaped, kidney-shaped,
shaped like a Starfish, with short, thick rays,
and long and pointed, like a Cat's tongue.
These minor details represent the pastry-
cook's fancies. The essential and constant
fact is this : in the six bakeries of my insect-
house, the sexes nre always both present be-
side the lump of paste, which, after being
kneaded according to rule, is now fermenting
and maturing.

What does this long cohabitation prove?
It proves that the father has taken part in
digging the cellar, in storing the victuals
gathered by separate armfuls on the
threshold of the door and in kneading all
the scraps into a single lump, which is more
likely to improve by keeping. Were he a
useless, idle incubus, he would not stay there,
he would go back to the surface. The
father therefore is a diligent fellow-worker.
His assistance even looks as if it ought to
extend farther still. We shall see.

Dear insects, my curiosity has disturbed
your housekeeping. But you were only
starting, you were having your house-warm-
357

The Sacred Beetle and Others

ing, so to speak. Perhaps you may be able
to make good the damage which I have
wrought. Let us try. I will restore the
condition of the estabhshment by supplying
fresh provisions. It is for you now to dig
new burrows, to carry down the wherewithal
to replace the cake of which I have robbed
you and afterwards to divide the lump, im-
proved by time, into rations suited to the
needs of your larvae. Will you do all this?
I hope so.

My faith in the perseverance of the sorely-
tried couples is not disappointed. A month
later, in the middle of July, I venture on a
second inspection. .The cellars have been
rebuilt, as spacious as at first. Moreover,
by this time they are padded with a soft
lining of dung on the floor and on a part of
the side-walls. The two sexes are still
there; they will not separate until the rearing
is completed. The father, who has less
family-affection, or perhaps Is more timid,
tries to steal off by the back-way as the light
enters the shattered dwelling; the mother,
squatting on her precious pellets, does not
budge. These pellets are oval-shaped
plums, very like those of the Spanish Copris,
but not quite so large.

Knowing how few compose the latter's
3S8

The Lunary Copris

collection, I am greatly surprised at the sight
that now meets my eyes. In a single cell,
I count seven or eight ovoids, standing one
against the other and hfting up their nippled
tops, each with its hatching-chamber. Not-
withstanding its size, the hall is cram-full;
there is hardly room left for the two guard-
ians to move about. It may be compared
with a bird's nest containing its eggs and no
empty spaces.

The comparison is inevitable. What In-
deed are the Copris' pills but eggs of another
sort, in which the nutritive mass of the white
and the yolk is replaced by a pot of preserved
foodstuffs ? Here the Dung-beetles rival the
birds and even surpass them. Instead of
producing from within themselves, merely
by the mysterious processes of nature, that
which will provide for the later growth
of their young, they are actively and
openly industrious and by dint of their
own skill provide food for their grubs,
which will achieve the adult form with-
out other assistance. They know nothing
of the long and tortuous process of in-
cubation; the sun is their incubator. They
have not the continual worry of providing
food, for they prepare this in advance and
make only one distribution. But they never

359

The Sacred Beetle and Others

leave the nest. Their watch is incessant.
Father and mother, those vigilant guardians,
do not quit the house until the family is fit
to sally forth.

The father's usefulness is manifest so long
as there is a house to dig and wealth to
amass; it is less evident when the mother is
cutting up her loaf into rations, shaping her
ovoids, polishing them and watching over
them. Can it be that the cavalier also takes
part in this delicate task, which would rather
seem to be a feminine monopoly? Is he
able, with his sharp leg, to slice up the cake,
to remove from it the requisite quantity for
a larva's sustenance and to round the piece
into a sphere, thus shortening the work,
which could be revised and perfected by the
mother? Does he know the art of stopping
up chinks, of repairing breaches, of soldering
slits, of scraping pellets and clearing them
of any dangerous vegetable matter? Does
he show the brood the same attentions which
the mother lavishes by herself in the burrows
of the Spanish Copris? Here the two sexes
are together. Do they both take part in
bringing up the family?

I tried to obtain an answer by installing
a couple of Lunary Copres in a glass jar
screened by a cardboard sheath, which en-
360

The Lunary Copris

abled me readily and quickly to produce light
or darkness. When suddenly surprised, the
male was perched upon the pellets almost as
often as the female; but, whereas the mother
would frequently go on with her ticklish
nursery-work, polishing the pellets with the
flat of her leg and feeling and sounding them,
the father, more cowardly and less engrossed
in his duties, would drop down as soon as
the dayhght was admitted and run away to
hide in some corner of the heap. There
is no way of seeing him at work, so quick Is
he to shun the unwelcome light.

Still, though he refused to display his
talents on my behalf, his very presence on
the top of the ovoids betrays them. Not
for nothing was he in that uncomfortable
attitude, so ill-adapted to an idler's slumbers.
He was then watching like his companion,
touching up the damaged parts, listening
through the walls of the shells to find out
how the youngsters were progressing. The
little that I saw assures me that the father
almost rivals the mother in domestic solici-
tude until the family is finally emancipated.

The offspring gain in numbers by this

paternal devotion. In the Spanish Copris'

mansion, where the mother alone resides, we

find four nurselings at most, often two or

361

The Sacred Beetle and Others

three, sometimes only one. In that of the
Lunary Copris, where the two sexes cohabit
and help each other, we count as many as
eight, twice the largest population of the
other. The hard-working father enjoys a
magnificent proof of his influence upon the
fate of the household.

Apart from labour In common, this
prosperity demands another condition with-
out which the zeal of the couple would be
ineffectual. Before everything, if you want
a big family you must have enough to feed
it on. Remember the victualling-methods
of the Copris-tribe generally. They do not,
like the pill-rollers, go gathering here and
there a booty which Is rounded into a ball and
subsequently rolled to the burrow; they settle
immediately underneath the heap which they
find and there, without leaving the threshold
of the house, carve themselves slices which
they carry down singly to their store until
they have collected enough.

The Spanish Copris, at least in my neigh-
bourhood, handles the product of the Sheep.
It is of high quality, but not plentiful, even
when the purveyor's Intestines are In their
most generous mood. The whole of It,
therefore, Is stuffed away In the cavern and
the insect does not come out again, being
362

The Lunary Copris

kept underground by family-cares, even
though there be but one youngster to attend
to. The niggardly morsel as a rule supplies
material only for two or three larvae. Con-
sequently the family is a small one, through
the difficulty in procuring provisions.

The Lunary Copris works under different
conditions. His part of the country pro-
vides the Cow-clap, that rich patch of dung
in which the insect finds inexhaustible sup-
plies of the food needed by a flourishing off-
spring. This prosperity is assisted by the
size of the abode, whose ceiling, with its
exceptional breadth, is able to shelter a
number of pills that would never fit into the
Spanish Copris' much less roomy burrow.

For lack of space at home and of a well-
furnished flour-bin, the latter restricts the
number of her children, which is sometimes
reduced to one. Can this be due to im-
potence of the ovaries? No. I have
shown in an earlier chapter that, given free
scope and a well-spread table, the mother
is capable of producing twice her usual family
and more. I described how for the three
or four ovoids I substituted a loaf kneaded
with my paper-knife. By means of this
artifice, which increased the space in the
narrow enclosure of the jar and provided
363

The Sacred Beetle and Others

fresh materials for modelling, I obtained
from the mother a family of seven in all.
It was a magnificent result, but far inferior
to that derived from the following experi-
ment, which was better managed.

This time, I take away the pellets as they
are formed, all but one, so as not to dis-
courage the mother by my kidnapping. If
she found nothing at all left of her previous
products, she might perhaps weary of her
fruitless labour. When the main loaf, of
her constructing, has all been used, I replace
it with another, made by myself. I go on
doing this, removing the ovoid that has just
been completed and renewing the finished
lump of food until the insect refuses to ac-
cept any more. For five or six weeks, the
sorely-tried mother never loses her patience
and each time begins all over again and
perseveringly restocks her empty nursery.
At last the dog-days arrive, the brutal season
which arrests all life by its excessive heat and
dryness. My loaves, however carefully
made, are scorned. The mother, overcome
with torpor, refuses to work. She buries
herself in the sand, at the foot of the last
pellet, and there, motionless, awaits the
liberating September rain. The indefati-
gable creature has bequeathed me thirteen
364

The Lunary Copris

ovoids, each modelled to perfection, each
supplied with an egg; thirteen, a number un-
paralleled in the Copris' annals; thirteen,
ten more than the normal laying.

The proof is established: if the horned
Dung-beetle strictly limits her family, It is
not through penury of the ovaries, but
through fear of famine.

Is it not thus that things happens in our
country, which, the statisticians tell us, is
threatened with depopulation? The clerk,
the artisan, the civil servant, the workman,
the small shopkeeper are a daily-increasing
multitude with us; and all of them, having
hardly enough to live upon, refrain as far
as possible from adding to the numbers
gathered around their ill-furnished table.
When bread is short, the Copris Is not
wrong in becoming almost a celibate. Why
should we cast a stone at his imitators?
The motive is one of prudence on either
side. It is better to live alone than sur-
rounded by hungry mouths. The man who
feels strong enough to struggle with poverty
for himself shrinks in dismay from the
poverty of a crowded home.

In the good old days, the tiller of the soil,
the peasant, the backbone of the nation,
found that a numerous family added to his
365

The Sacred Beetle and Others

wealth. All used to work and bring their
bit of bread to the frugal repast. While
the eldest drove the team afield, the young-
est, clad in his first pair of breeches, took
the brood of Ducklings to the pond.^

[These patriarchal ways are becoming rare.
Progress sees to that. Of course, it is an
enviable thing to scorch along on a bicycle,
working your legs up and down like a dis-
tracted Spider; but there is a reverse to the
medal: progress brings luxury, but creates
expensive tastes. In my village, the com-
monest factory-girl, earning her tenpence a
day, sports on a Sunday sleeves puffed at the
shoulders and feathers in her hat like the
fine ladies' ; she has a sunshade with an ivory
handle, a padded chignon, patent-leather
shoes, with open-work stockings and lace
flounces. O Goose-girl, I in my short linen
jacket dare not look at you as you pass my
door on your Sunday parade along the high-
road! You make me feel too small with
your smart raiment.

The young men, on the other hand, are
assiduous frequenters of the cafe, which
is much more luxurious than the old-
fashioned pothouse. Here they find ver-

1 Cf. Fabre's own youthful experiences, in The Life of
Fly: chap. vii. — Translator's Note.
366

The Lunary Copris

mouth, bitters absinthe, amer Picon, In short
the whole collection of stupefying drugs.
Such tastes as these make the fields seem too
humble and the soil too stubborn. Since the
receipts no longer come up to the expenses,
they leave the land for the town, which Is
better-suited, so they Imagine, for money-
making. Alas, saving is no more practi-
cable there than here ! The workshop,
where opportunities of spending money lie
in wait by the score, makes a man no richer
than the plough. But it Is too late : you have
made your bed ; and you remain a poverty-
stricken townsman, in terror of paternity.

And yet this country, with Its glorious
climate, fertility, and geographical position,
is Invaded by a host of cosmopolitans, sharks
and sharpers of every sort. Long ago, It
used to attract the sea-roving Phoenicians;
the peace-loving Greeks, who brought us the
alphabet, the vine and the olive-tree; the
Romans, those harsh rulers, who handed
down to us barbarities very difficult to eradi-
cate. Swooping on this rich prey came the
Cymrl, the Teutons, the Vandals, the Goths,
the Huns, the Burgundians, the Suevi, the
Alani, the Franks, the Saracens, hordes
driven hither by every wind that blows.
And all this heterogeneous mixture was

The Sacred Beetle and Others

melted down and absorbed by the Gallic
nation.

To-day the foreigner is stealthily making
his way into our midst. We are threatened
with a second barbarian invasion, peaceful,
it is true, but yet disturbing. Will our
language, so clear and so harmonious, be-
come an obscure jargon, harsh with exotic
gutturals? Will our generous character be
dishonoured by rapacious hucksters? Will
the land of our fathers cease to be a country
and become a caravanserai? There is a fear
of it, unless the old Gallic blood runs swift
and strong once more and engulfs the stream
of invaders.

Let us hope that it may be so and let us
listen to what the horned Dung-beetle has
to teach us. A large family demands food.
But progress brings new needs, which cost
much to satisfy; and our revenues are far
from increasing at the same rate. When
men have not enough for six or five or four,
they are content to live as a family of three
or two, or even to remain single. Guided
by such principles as these, a nation, in its
successive stages of progress, is on the road
to suicide.

Let us go back then to where we were,
suppress our artificial needs, those unwhole-
368

The Bison Onitis

some fruits of a hot-house civiHzation,
honour rustic frugahty once again and re-
main on the land, where we shall find the soil
bountiful enough to satisfy us if we moderate
our desires. Then and not till then will the
family flourish once more; then will the
peasant, delivered from the town and its
temptations, be our salvation.

The third Dung-beetle that has shown me
the gift of paternal instinct is likewise a
stranger. He comes to me from near
Montpellier. He is the Bison Onitis, or,
according to others, the Bison Bubas. Tak-
ing no interest in nomenclative subtleties, I
shall not choose between the two generic
names, but will retain the specific denomina-
tion of Bison, which has the sound which
Linnaeus wanted. I made his acquaintance
many years ago In the country around
Ajaccio,^ among the saffrons and cyclamens
that bloom so sweetly under the shade of
the myrtles. Come hither and let me admire
you yet once again, O beauteous insect !
You recall my youthful enthusiasm on the
shores of the glorious gulf, so rich in shell-
fish. Far was I from suspecting at the time

1 For the author's stay at Ajaccio, where he was a
schoolmaster in his youth, cf. The Life of the Fly: chap,
vi. — Translator's Note.

369

The Sacred Beetle and Others

that it would one day fall to my share to
sing your praises! I have not seen you
since. Welcome to my vivarium! And
now tell us something about yourself.

You are a sturdy little chap, short-legged
and packed into a solid rectangle, a sign of
strength. On your head you wear two
abbreviated horns, curved like a Steer's; and
you prolong your corselet into a blunt fore-
head adorned with two pretty dimples, one
on the right and one on the left. Your
general appearance and your male finery
make you a near neighbour of the coprinary
group. The entomologists, in fact, class you
immediately after the Copres and a long way
from the Geotrupes. Does your trade tally
with the place which the systematists allot to
you? What can you do?

In common with others, I admire the
classifier who, studying the mouth, the legs
and the antennas in the dead insect, is some-
times happy in his grouping and able, for
instance, to include in the same family the
Scarab and the Sisyphus, who differ so
greatly in appearance and so little in habits.
Yet this method, which ignores the higher
manifestations of life in order to pore over
the smallest details of the corpse, too often
misleads us as to the insect's real talent,
370

The Bison Onitis

which is a much more important character-
istic than a joint more or less in the antennae.
The Bison, hke many others, warns us to be
careful where we are going. Though akin
to the Copris in structure, he is much nearer
the Geotrupes in his industry. Like them,
he packs sausages in a cyHndrical mould;
like them again, he has the paternal Instinct.

I Inspect my one couple in the middle of
June. Under a plentiful pile provided by
the Sheep is a perpendicular shaft a finger's-
breadth in diameter, open freely throughout
Its length and running some nine inches
down. The bottom of this well branches
out into five different galleries, each occupied
by a roly-poly pudding similar to the Geo-
trupes', but less bulky and not so long. The
mass of fodder has a warty surface, is
rounded off clumsily and has a hatching-
chamber scooped out of it at the lower end.
This chamber is a httle round cell, coated
with a semifluid wash. The egg is oval,
white and comparatively large, as is the rule
among Dung-beetles. In short, the Bison's
rustic work Is a very close reproduction of
the Geotrupes'.

I am disappointed: I expected better
things. The Insect's elegance seemed to
promise something more artistic, a finer
371

The Sacred Beetle and Others

craftsmanship, skilled in the modelling of
pears, gourds, balls and ovoids. Once
again, be careful how you judge animals,
any more than men, by appearances. The
structure gives us no idea of the insect's all-
round ability.

I surprise the couple at the cross-roads
where the five blind-alleys, the sausages,
start. The intrusion of the light has
frightened them into immobility. Before
the disturbance caused by my excavations,
what were the two faithful partners doing
at this spot? They were watching over the
five cells, ramming down the last column of
provisions, completing it with new contribu-
tions of material, brought down from above
and taken from the heap that forms a cover
to the shaft. They were perhaps preparing
to dig a sixth chamber, if not more, and to
stock it like the others. I realize at any
rate that there must be many ascents from the
bottom of the pit to the rich warehouse on
the surface, whence the bundles of material
are carried down in the legs of the one to be
methodically pressed on top of the egg by the
other.

The shaft Indeed is open throughout Its
length. Moreover, to prevent the crumb-
ling of the walls which would result from
372

The Bison Onitis

frequent journeys, the sides are plastered
with stucco from end to end. This coat
is made of the same material as the puddings
and is more than a twenty-fifth of an inch
thick. It is continuous and fairly even, with-
out having too elaborate a finish. It keeps
the surrounding earth in place, so much so
that big fragments of the tunnel can be re-
moved without losing their shape.

In the hamlets on the Alps, the south
fronts of the buildings are coated with Cow-
dung, which, after drying in the summer sun,
becomes the winter fuel. The Bison knows
this pastoral method, but practises it with
another object: he hangs his house with
manure to keep it from crumbling. The
father might well be entrusted with this work
In the intervals of rest which the mother
leaves him while she is busy in the ticklish
work of making her pudding layer by layer.
The Geotrupes, by way of yet another in-
dustrial resemblance, has already shown us
a similar consolidating-plaster. Hers, it is
true, is less regular and less complete.

After being ousted by my curiosity, the
Bison couple set to work again and, by the
i>-iddle of July, supplied me with three more
puddings, making a total of eight. This
time, I find my two captives dead, one on the
27Z

The Sacred Beetle and Others

surface, the other in the ground. Can it be
an accident ? Or is it not more likely that the
Bison constitutes an exception to the long-
evity of the Scarabs, Copres and others, who
behold their offspring and even fly away to
their second wedding in the following spring.

I incline to the belief that we come back
here to the general insect law of a short life
deprived of the chief joy of parenthood, the
sight of one's children, for no regrettable
incident happened, so far as I know, in the
vivarium. If I am right in my conjectures,
why does the Bison, though a near kinsman
of the Copris, who attains a green old age,
die so quickly, like the common herd, once
the future of his family is assured? Here
again we have an unsolved mystery.

A rapid sketch of the larva is preferable
to long descriptions of its jaws and palpi,
which make dull reading. I shall have said
enough, I think, on the subject if I mention
that it is bent into a crook, that it carries a
knapsack on its back, that it is a quick
evacuator and that it is clever at stopping"
up any cracks in the dwelling: characteristic!
and talents which are a general rule among
the Dung-beetles. In August, when the
pudding has been consumed in the middle
and has become something of a ruin, the

374

The Bison Onitis

grub retires to the lower end and here
isolates itself from the remainder of the
cavity by means of a spherical enclosure, of
which the mortar-bag supplies the materials.

The work, a graceful sphere about the
size of a large cherry, is a masterpiece of
stercoral architecture and may be compared
with that which the Bull Onthophagus has
already shown us. Little nodes, arranged
in concentric lines and alternating like the
tiles of a roof, adorn the object from pole
to pole. Each of them must correspond
with a stroke of the trowel putting Its load
of mortar In place. If you did not know
what it was, you would take the thing for
the chiselled kernel of some tropical fruit.
A sort of rough pericarp completes the
illusion. It is the rind of the pudding which
surrounds the central jewel but Is easily re-
moved, just as the husk separates from the
nut. When we have done the shelling, we
are quite surprised to find this splendid
kernel under its rustic wrapper.

Such is the chamber built with a view to
the metamorphosis. The larva spends the
winter there in a state of torpor. I hoped
to obtain the adult insect in the spring. [To
my great surprise, the larval stage continued
until the end of July. It takes about a year,
375

iThe Sacred Beetle and Others

therefore, for the nymph to make its appear-
ance.

This slowness in maturing surprises me.
Can it be the rule in the open fields? I
think so, for in the confinement of my insect-
house nothing happened, to my knowledge,
that would occasion this delay. I therefore
enter the result of my manoeuvres without
any fear of making a mistake: lying lifeless
in its elegant and solid casket, the larva of
the Bison Onitis takes twelve months to
develop into a nymph, whereas those of the
other Dung-beetles effect their transforma-
tion in a few weeks. As to stating or even
suspecting the cause of this strange larval
longevity, these are points which must be left
in the limbo of the unexplained.

Softened by the September rains, the
stercoral shell, until now as hard as a plum-
stone, yields to the hermit's thrust; and the
adult Beetle comes up into the light of day
to lead a life of revelry so long as the mild
atmosphere of the last days of summer
permits. When the first cold weather
sets in, he retires to his winter quarters
underground and reappears in the spring to
begin the cycle of life all over again.

376

CHAPTER XVII

THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE CELL

"OEGUN to-day and dropped to-morrow,
-■-* taken up again later and again aband-
oned, according to the chances of the
day, the study of instinct makes but halting
progress. The changing seasons brings un-
welcome delays, forcing the observer to wait
till the following year or even longer for the
answer to his eager questions. Moreover,
the problem often crops up unexpectedly, as
the result of some casual incident of slight
interest in itself, and it comes in a form so
vague that it gives little basis for precise in-
vestigation. How can one investigate what
has not yet been suspected? We have no
facts to go upon and are consequently unable
to tackle the problem frankly.

To collect these facts by fragments, to
subject those fragments to varied tests in
order to try their value, to make them into
a sheaf of rays lighting up the darkness of
the unknown and gradually causing it to
emerge: all this demands a long space of

The Sacred Beetle and Others

time, especially as the favourable periods are
brief. Years elapse; and then very often
the perfect solution has not appeared.
There are always gaps in our sheaf of light;
and always behind the mysteries which the
rays have penetrated stand others, still
shrouded in darkness.

I am perfectly aware that it would be
preferable to avoid repetitions and to give
a complete story every time; but. In the
domain of instinct, who can claim a harvest
that leaves no grain for other gleaners?
Sometimes the handful of corn left on the
field is of more Importance than the reaper's
sheaves. If we had to wait until we knew
every detail of the question studied, no one
would venture to write the little that he
knows. From time to time, a few truths are
revealed, tiny pieces of the vast mosaic of
things. Better to divulge the discovery,
however humble it be. Others will come
who, also gathering a few fragments, will
assemble the whole Into a picture ever grow-
ing larger but ever notched by the unknown.

And then the burden of years forbids me
to entertain long hopes. Distrustful of the
morrow, I write from day to day, as I
make my observations. This method, one
of necessity rather than choice, sometimes
378

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

results in the reopening of old subjects, when
new investigations throw hght within and en-
able me to complete or it may be to modify
the first text.

Years ago, I obtained a few noteworthy
particulars about the Onthophagi, thanks to
a very rough and ready method of rearing
a few of them jumbled up with other Beetles
in whom I was more interested. One of the
earlier volumes gives a rapid sketch of
them.^ The results, hurriedly and almost
fortuitously acquired, inspired me with a
wish to observe systematically and closely
the habits, industry and development of an
insect which I had already introduced to the
reader in too summary a fashion. Let us
speak once more of the Onthophagi, that
nation of little horned dung-worshippers.

Lately, I have reared the following
species, according as I chanced to pick them
up: Onthophagus taurus, LiNN., O. vacca,
Linn., O. furcatus, Fabr., O. Schreberi,
Linn., O. nuchicornis, Linn., O. lemur,
Fabr. There has been no choice on my
part; I accept all that present themselves

1 Chapter XI. of the present book appeared in the fifth
volume of the Souvenirs entomologiques ; this and the fol-
lowing chapter formed part of the tenth and last volume.
— Translator's Note.

379

The Sacred Beetle and Others

in sufficient numbers. The first especially
abound. I am delighted, for the Bull
Onthophagus is the chief of the clan. There
is none to equal him, if not in dress, for this
may be a richer copper in the others, at least
in the handsome horns which are the
masculine prerogative. He will be the
object of special attention in my menagerie.
For the rest, as what he teaches me is re-
peated elsewhere without noteworthy varia-
tions, his history will be that of the whole
tribe.

I capture him, as well as the others, in the
course of May. At this period of genetic
awakening, I find them swarming very busily
under the Sheep-droppings, not those which
are moulded into olives and scattered in
trails, but those which are ejected in slabs
of some size. The first are too dry and too
scanty and the Onthophagus thinks nothing
of them; the second are goodly messes and
he works them in preference to any other
material.

The Mule's copious heap is also largely
utilized; but it is very stringy and, though
the Beetle finds plenty in it for his own feasts,
he very seldom uses it for his offspring.
Where the nests are concerned, the Sheep
is the main purveyor. Her exceptionally
380

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

plastic product at once attracts the custom of
the Onthophagi, who are just as dainty
epicures as the Sacred Beetle, the Copris or
the Sisyphus. If, however, the ovine pot-
tage be lacking, they fall back upon the
coarser lump of the Mule, with the aid of a
scrupulous selection.

There is no difficulty about bringing up
Onthophagi. A spacious vivarium that
lends itself to frolicsome sports is not necess-
ary here; it would even be inconvenient and
would not favour close observation, because
of the tumult prevailing in a numerous and
varied crowd. I prefer a number of
separate establishments, simpler and smaller,
which I can carry into my private work-
room. They will lend themselves better to
assiduous inspection, without putting me to
the trouble of digging. What receptacles
shall I choose?

There are certain glass pots fitted with a
tin lid which you screw over their mouths.
They are used for honey, preserved fruits,
jam, jelly and similar products dear to the
heart of materfamilias when the winter
scarcity sets in. I procure a dozen of these
by clearing the cupboard in which the pre-
serves are kept. They hold, on the average,
about a pint and three-quarters.
381

The Sacred Beetle and Others

Half-filled with fresh sand and supplied in
addition with provisions obtained from the
Sheep's pastry-shop, each jar receives its
share of Onthophagi, of separate species and
with both sexes present. When the glass
houses are used up and the population be-
comes too dense, I resort to ordinary
flower-pots, furnished according to rule and
closed' with a pane of glass. The whole
collection is arranged on my large labora-
tory-table. My captives are satisfied with
their installation, which provides them with
a mild temperature, a nicely-shaded light and
first-class fare.

What more is needed to complete the
Dung-beetles' happiness? Nothing but the
raptures of pairing. They indulge in these
freely. Interned in the second half of May,
with not a thought to the new state of things
which puts a stop to their frolics among the
thyme, eagerly they seek one another out,
make their overtures and group themselves
in couples.

This Is an excellent occasion to find the
reply to a primary question: do the Ontho-
phagus father and mother work in con-
junction when looking after the brood; have
they a permanent household, similar to that
which we have seen in the Geotrupes, the
382

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

Sisyphus and the Minotaur; ^ or is the
mating followed by a sudden and definite
rupture? The Bull Onthophagus shall tell
us.

I delicately transfer two insects in the act
of coupling and establish them in another,
separate jar, provided with victuals and
fresh sand. The moving is performed
safely; the entwined pair remain united. A
quarter of an hour afterwards, they
separate; the great job is finished. The
food is close at hand. They refresh them-
selves for a moment; and then each, with-
out bothering in the least about the other,
digs his burrow and buries himself in
solitude.

A week or so passes. The male re-
appears on the surface; he is restless, he
makes desperate efforts to climb out; the
relations are done, quite done; he wants to
get away. By and by, the female comes
up in her turn; she tries the nearest cake,
picks the best of it and takes it underground.
She is building her nest. As to her com-
panion, he does not even notice what is
happening: these things do not concern him.

The other captives, of no matter what

1 Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. x. — Trans-
lator's Note.

383

The Sacred Beetle and Others

species, when consulted in the same manner,
give the same reply. The Onthophagus
tribe knows nothing of household ties.

In what respect are those who know them
and who observe them so faithfully any the
better off? I do not quite see; or, to be
more candid, I do not see at all. If, in the
case of the Geotrupes, I see in the bulky
pudding some slight excuse for the collabora-
tion of the father, who is a valuable assistant
in the fabrication of this kind of preserve,
and if, in that of the Minotaur, the im-
mensely deep well might suggest to me the
need for the trident-wearing helper, who
shoots out the rubbish while the mother
goes on digging, I should still be without an
explanation when I came to the Sisyphus, who
is very economical both in provisions and in
the labour of excavation and requires no help
with either. I will not deny that, In this last
casef, the male is of some use, watching over
the pill, lending occasional help and en-
couraging the female with his presence; but,
after all, the part which he plays as a
collaborator is a very secondary one and the
mother, one would say, could do without any
assistance, as is the rule among the Scara-
baei. Here, besides, we have the Bull
Onthophagus, who Is even smaller than the
384

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

Sisyphus; and this dwarf, unacquainted with
a partnership that would increase her powers
twofold, fulfils a task which Is almost
equivalent to that of the Beetles who roll
their pills in double harness.

_ Then how are talents and industries
distributed? If we go on accumulating fact
upon fact, observation upon observation,
shall we ever come to know? I venture to
doubt It.

I have friends who sometimes say to me:
" Now that you have collected such a mass
of details, you ought to follow up analysis
with synthesis and promulgate a comprehen-
sive theory of the origin of Instincts."

There's a rash proposal for you ! Be-
cause I have turned over a few grains of
sand on the sea-shore, am I qualified to talk
about the ocean depths? Life has Its un-
fathomable secrets. Human knowledge will
be struck off the world's records before we
know all that is to be said about a Gnat.

Equally obscure is the question of nest-
building. By a nest we understand any
residence constructed purposely to receive
the eggs and to protect the development of
the young. The Bees and Wasps excel in
the art. They know how to make cabins out
of cotton-stuffs, wax, leaves or resin; they
385

The Sacred Beetle and Others

build turrets of clay and domes of masonry;
they mould earthenware urns. The Spiders
vie with them. Remember the flying-
machines, the rose-patterned paraboloids of
certain Epeirae; the globular bag of the
Lycosa; the Labyrinth Spider's cloisters with
their Gothic arches; the Clotho Spider's tent
and lentiform pockets.^

The Locust makes pits surmounted by a
frothy chimney; the Mantis whips her glair
into a frothy mass.^ The Fly and the
Butterfly, on the other hand, know nothing
of these fond attentions: they limit them-
selves to laying their eggs at spots where
the young can find board and lodging for
themselves.^ The Beetle also is generally
extremely Ignorant of the finer points of nest-
building. By a very singular exception, the
Dung-beetles, alone among the immense host
of wearers of armoured wing-cases, have a
special art of rearing, a system of upbringing
which can bear comparison with that of the

1 For the Epeirae, or Garden Spiders, the Lycosa, or
Black-bellied Tarantula, and the Labyrinth and Clotho
Spiders, cf. The Life of the Spider, by J. Henri Fabre,
translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: passim. —
Translator's Note.

2 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps, viii., ix., xvi.
and xvii. — Translator's Note.

3 Cf. The Life of the Fly and The Life of the Cater-
pillar: passim. — Translator's Note.

386

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

most gifted Insects. How did they come by
this Industry?

Venturesome minds, deluded by the
greatly daring theorists, tell us that the
science of the future, rich In evidence drawn
from the mysteries of fibre and cell, will
draw up an affiliation-table In which the
animal kingdom will be classified so that the
place occupied by a creature shall inform us
of its Instincts, without any need of pre-
liminary observation. We shall determine
the aptitudes by means of learned formulse,
even as numbers are determined by their
logarithms. It Is most Impressive; but be-
ware: we are dealing with Dung-beetles;
let us consult them before we draw up the
logarithmic table of instincts. The Ontho-
phagus is related to the Coprls, the Scarab
and the Sisyphus, all of whom are versed
in the art of making shapely pellets. Let
us try to tell beforehand, according to the
place which she occupies In the insect-table,
going merely by the formula, what she is
able to do In the way of nest-building.

She is small, I agree; but littleness does
not diminish talent In the least, as witness
the Titmouse with his pendulous nest, the
Wren and the Canary, who, although among
the smallest of our little birds, are in-
387

The Sacred Beetle and Others

comparable artists. The near kinswomen of
the Onthophagus excel in making beautiful
ovoids and pear-shaped gourds. She her-
self, so tiny and so precise, ought to do even
better.

Well, the table deceives us, the formula
lies: the Onthophagus is a very indifferent
artist; her nest is a rudimentary piece of
work, hardly fit to be acknowledged. I
obtain it in profusion from the six species
which I have brought up in my jars and
flower-pots. The Bull Onthophagus alone
provides me with nearly a hundred; and I
find no two precisely alike, as pieces should
be that come from the same mould and the
same workshop.

To this lack of exact similarity, we must
add inaccuracy of shape, now more, now less
accentuated. It is easy, however, to re-
cognize among the bulk the pattern upon
which the clumsy nest-builder works. It is
a sack shaped like a thimble and standing
erect, with the spherical thimble-end at the
bottom and the circular opening at the top.

Sometimes, the insect establishes itself in
the central region of my apparatus, in the
heart of the earthy mass; then, the resist-
ance being the same in every direction, the
sack-like shape is pretty accurate. But,

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

generally, the Onthophagus prefers a solid
basis to a dusty support and builds on the
walls of the jar, especially on the bottom.
When the support is vertical, the sack is a
longitudinal section of a short cyhnder, with
the smooth flat surface against the glass and
a rugged convexity every elsewhere. If the
support be horizontal, as is most frequently
the case, the cabin Is a sort of undecided oval
lozenge, flat at the bottom, bulging and
vaulted at the top. To the general In-
accuracy of these contorted shapes, regulated
by no very definite pattern, we must add the
coarseness of the surfaces, all of which, with
the exception of the parts touching the glass,
are covered with a crust of sand.

The manner of procedure explains this un-
couth exterior. As laying-time draws nigh}
the Onthophagus bores a cylindrical pit and
descends underground to a moderate depth.
Here, working with her forehead, her chin
and her fore-legs, which are toothed like a
rake, she forces back and heaps around her
the materials which she has moved, so as to
obtain as best she may a nest of suitable size.

The next thing is to cement the crumbling

walls of the cavity. The insect climbs back

to the surface by way of its pit; it gathers on

its threshold an armful of mortar taken from

389

The Sacred Beetle and Others

the cake whereunder it has elected to set up
house; it goes down again with its burden,
which it spreads and presses upon the sandy
wall. Thus it produces a concrete casing,
the gravel of which is suppHed by the wall
itself and the cement by the produce of the
Sheep. After a few trips and repeated
strokes of the trowel, the pit is plastered
on every side; the walls, encrusted all over
with grains of sand, are no longer liable to
give way.

The cabin is ready: it now wants only a
tenant and stores. First, a large free space
is made at the bottom : the hatching-chamber,
where the egg is laid on the wall. Next
comes the collecting of the provisions in-
tended for the grub, a collecting done with
scrupulous care. Recently, when building,
the insect worked upon the outside of the
doughy mass and took no notice of the
earthy blemishes. Now, it penetrates to the
very centre of the lump, through a gallery
that looks as though it were made with a
punch. When trying a cheese, the buyer
employs a scoop, the hollow, cylindrical
taster which is driven well in and pulled out
with a sample taken from the middle of the
cheese. fThe Onthophagus, when collecting
for her grub, goes to work as though
390

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

equipped with one of these tasters. She
bores an exactly round hole into the piece
which she is exploiting; she goes straight to
the middle, where the material, not being
exposed to the contact of the air, has kept
more savoury and pliable. Here and here
alone are gathered the armfuls which, gradu-
ally stowed away, kneaded and heaped up to
the requisite extent, fill the sack to the top.
Lastly, a plug of the same mortar, the sides
of which are made partly of sand and partly
of stercoral cement, roughly closes the cell,
in such a way that an external inspection does
not allow one to distinguish front from
back.

To judge of the work and its merit, we
must open it. A large empty space, oval in
shape, occupies the rear end. This is the
birth-chamber, huge in dimensions compared
with its contents, the egg fixed on the wall,
sometimes at the bottom of the cell and
sometimes on the side. This egg is a tiny
white cylinder, rounded at each end and
measuring a millimetre ^ in length Imme-
diately after It Is laid. With no other sup-
port than the spot on which the oviduct has
planted It, It stands on Its hinder end and pro-
jects into space.

1 .039 inch. — Translator's Note.
391

The Sacred Beetle and Others

A more or less enquiring glance is quite
surprised to find so small a germ contained
in so large a box. What does the tiny egg
want with all that space? When carefully
examined within, the walls of the chamber
suggest another question. They are coated
with a fine greenish pap, semifluid and shiny,
the appearance of which does not agree with
either the external or internal aspect of the
lump from which the insect has extracted its
materials. A similar lime-wash is observed
in the nest which the Scarab, the Copris, the
Sisyphus, the Geotrupes and other makers of
stercoraceous preserves contrive in the very
heart of the provisions, to receive the egg;
but nowhere have I seen it so plentiful, in
proportion, as in the hatching-chamber of the
Onthophagus. Long puzzled by this brothy
wash, of which the Sacred Beetle provided
me with the first instance, I at one time took
the thing for a layer of moisture oozing from
the bulk of the victuals and collecting on the
surface of the enclosure without other effort
than capillary action. That was the in-
terpretation which I accepted in various
passages relating to this varnish.

I was wrong. The truth is something
much more remarkable. To-day, better-in-
formed by the Onthophagus, I reopen the
392

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

question : Is this lime-wash, this semifluid
cream, the result of a natural oozing, or is it
the product of maternal foresight? A
simple and conclusive experiment will give
us the answer. I ought to have made it at
the outset. I did not think of it, because
the simple is usually the last thing that we
call to our aid. Here is the experiment.

I pack a little glass jar, the size of a Hen's
egg, with Sheep-dung as employed by the
Onthophagus. With a glass rod, which
leaves a perfectly smooth impression, I make
a cylindrical cavity in the heap about an inch
deep. After withdrawing the rod, I cover
the orifice with a slab of the same material;
and I protect the whole against desiccation
by means of an hermetically closed lid. It
is the Sacred Beetle's pear, with its hatching-
chamber, on a larger scale; it is the Ontho-
phagus' thimble, enormously exaggerated.
I may say that, after the withdrawal of the
glass rod, the surface of the cavity is a dull,
greenish black, with not a trace of extra-
vasated shiny moisture. If an oozing by
capillary action really takes place, the semi-
fluid varnish will appear; if nothing of the
kind should occur, the surface will remain
dull.

I wait a couple of days to allow the cap-

393

The Sacred Beetle and Others

illary sweating to take effect, if such a pro-
cess there be. Then I examine the cavity.
There is no shiny wash on the walls; they
look as dull and dry as at the beginning.
Three days later, I make a fresh inspection.
Nothing has changed : the pit made by the
glass rod shows no sign of exudation; it is
even a little drier. So capillary action and
its extravasations have nothing to do with
the matter.

What then is the lime-wash that is found
In every cell? The answer is inevitable: it
Is something produced by the mother, a
special gruel, a milk-food elaborated for the
benefit of the new-born grub.

The young Pigeon puts his beak Into that
of his parents, who, with convulsive efforts,
force down his gullet first a casein mash
secreted in the crop and later a broth of
grains softened by being partly digested-
He Is fed upon disgorged foods, which are
kind to the frailty and inexperience of a
young stomach. The grub of the Ontho-
phagus is brought up In much the same way,
at the start. To assist its first attempts at
swallowing, the mother prepares for it, in
her crop, a light and strengthening cream.

To pass the dainty from mouth to mouth
is impossible in her case : the construction of

394

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

new cells keeps her busy elsewhere. More-
over— and this Is a more serious point —
the laying takes place egg by egg, at very
long intervals, and the hatching is pretty
slow : time would fail, had the family to be
brought up in the manner of the Pigeons.
Another method is perforce required. The
infants' food is disgorged all over the walls
of the cabin, in such a way that the nurseling
finds itself surrounded with an abundance of
bread-and-jam, in which the bread, the meat
for the strong, is represented by the un-
cooked material, as supplied by the Sheep,
while the jam, the food for the babe, is
represented by the same material daintily
prepared beforehand in the mother's
stomach. We shall see the grub presently
lick first the jam all around it and then
stoutly attack the bread. One of our own
children would behave no otherwise.

I should have hked to catch the mother
in the act of disgorging and spreading her
broth. I did not succeed in doing so. The
proceedings take place in a tiny niche ; and
the busy cook blocks out the view. Also her
fluster at being exhibited in broad daylight
at once arrests the work.

If direct observation be lacking, at least
the appearance of the material and the result

395

The Sacred Beetle and Others

of my experiment with the glass rod speak,
very plainly and tell us that the Ontho-
phagus, here rivaUing the Pigeon, but with
a different method, disgorges the first mouth-
fuls for her sons. And the same may be
said of the other Dung-beetles skilled in the
art of building a hatching-chamber in the
centre of the provisions.

No elsewhere In the insect world, except
among the Bees, who prepare disgorged
food in the shape of honey, is such solicitude
seen. The dung-workers edify us with their
morals. Several of them practise associa-
tion in couples and found a household;
several anticipate the process of suckling,
that supreme expression of maternal tender-
ness, by turning their crop Into a nipple.
Life has Its freaks. It settles amid ordure
the creatures most highly-endowed with
domestic qualities. True, from there it
mounts, with a sudden flight, to the sublime
virtues of the bird.

Among the OnthophagI the egg grows
considerably larger after it is laid; it almost
doubles Its hnear dimensions, thus Increasing
the bulk eightfold. This growth Is general
among the Dung-beetles. If you note the
size of an egg recently laid by any species
and measure it again when the grub is about
396

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

to be born, you will be quite surprised at the
singular progress which it has made. The
Sacred Beetle's egg, for instance, which at
first is lodged pretty spaciously in its hatch-
ing-chamber, swells until it nearly fills the
cavity.

The first idea that occurs to the mind is
a very simple and tempting one, namely, that
the egg feeds. Surrounded by strongly-
flavoured effluvia, it becomes impregnated
with emanations which distend its flexible
tunic; it grows by a sort of alimentary
respiration, just as a seed swells in fertile
soil. That is how I pictured things at the
beginning, when the dehcate problem
presented Itself for the first time. But is
this really what happens? Ah, if it were
enough, when we were in need of food, to
stand outside a cook-shop and inhale the
smell of the good things that were being
prepared inside, what a different world It
would seem, to many of us ! It would be
too lovely !

The Onthophagus, the Coprls and the
other Beetles with cream-washed hatching-
chambers are a delusion and a snare to us,
with their eggs which are so ready to swell.
The Minotaur tells me so, somewhat late
in the day; she compels me to reconsider my
397

The Sacred Beetle and Others

earlier interpretations entirely. Her egg is
not enclosed in a hollow inside the victuals
whose emanations might explain its growth;
it is outside the sausage, a good way under-
neath, surrounded by sand on every side; and
nevertheless it increases in size just as well
■as those lodged in a succulent cabin.

Moreover, the new-born grub surprises
me by its chubbiness; it is seven or eight
times as big as the egg whence it comes; the
contents vastly exceed the capacity of the
container. Besides, before touching the
food from which it is separated by a ceiling
of sand, the grub for a certain time con-
tinues its strange growing, as though new
materials were being added to those which
came out of the egg.

Here, in the dry sand, it is impossible to
talk of effluvia capable of providing the
wherewithal for the grub to wax big and fat.
Then to what do both the egg and the new-
born grub owe their growth? The Langue-
docian Scorpion ^ gives us an excellent clue.
When passing from a sort of larval stage
to the final form, which is the same as that

1 Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap9. xyii. and
xviii. The seven essays on the Languedocian Scorpion will
be included in the last volume of this complete edition of
Fabre's entomological works. — Translator's Note.

398

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

of the adult, we have seen him suddenly
double his length and consequently increase
eightfold in bulk before taking the least
scrap of nourishment. A highly complex
process of coordination and adjustment
takes place in the interior of the organism;
and the dimensions increase without the ad-
dition of new material.

An animal is a structure capable of be-
coming more spacious with the same amount
of materials. Everything depends upon
the molecular architecture, which becomes
more and more refined by the tremors of life.
The contents of the egg, a compact mass,
expand into a creature which is all the bulkier
for its richness in organs for diverse func-
tions. Even so, the locomotive engine, the
creature of industry, occupies more space than
the iron, its raw material, melted down into a
single ingot.

When the shell is able to stretch, the egg
swells under the thrust of its contents, which
form into an organic whole and dilate.
This is the case with the various Dung-
beetles. When the shell is hard and rigid,
a void is made by evaporation at the thick
end; and this excess of space supplies the
room necessary for the increase in volume
of the cor^tents. This is the case with the
399

The Sacred Beetle and Others

birds, which develop within a chalky en-
closure that does not alter in size. Both of
them dilate, with this difference that the soft
shell allows the inside work to be perceived
outside, whereas the stiff shell reveals no-
thing.

Lastly, the hatching does not always stop
the growth that is not preceded by feeding.
For a little while longer the larva continues
to increase in size; it completes the work of
acquiring stability in its new equilibrium, the
equilibrium of a living creature; it improves
Its physique by some supplementary stretch-
ing. The Scorpion has already told us this;
the grub of the Minotaur and many others
assure us of the same thing. It is, on a
smaller scale, what we saw before in the
Locust's wing,^ which, issuing from a very
small sheath, soon unfurls into a sail of
generous breadth.

Twice, therefore, am I changing my
opinions in this history of the Dung-beetles:
first, on the subject of the paste spread on
the walls of the natal chamber; secondly, on
the subject of the egg that increases in size
after it is laid. I have corrected my state-
ments without being greatly ashamed of my

1 Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xix. — Trans-
lator's Note.

400

The Bull Onthophagus: the Cell

mistakes, for it Is difficult indeed to reach
the vein of truth at the first tentative boring.
There is only one means of never blundering,
which is never to do anything and, above all,
to let ideas alone.

401

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE LARVA;
THE NYMPH

AY is the nesting-month of the differ-
ent Onthophagi and of the Bull
Onthophagus in particular. The mothers
now go underground to some little depth,
under the shelter of the cave whence the
building and victualling-materials are ex-
tracted. Unaided by the males, who, heed-
less of family-cares, continue to lead a life
of jollity, they fashion their cabins and stuff
them with provisions after the egg is laid.
The work, for that matter, is crude and
elementary and hardly needs the collabora-
tion of the horned dandies. Five or six
establishments at most, each founded in a
couple of days, represent the whole of a
mother's work and leave plenty of time for
spring revelry.

The grub is hatched in about a week; and
a strange and paradoxical little creature it
is. On its back it has an enormous sugar-
loaf hump, the weight of which overbalances
402

The Bull Onthophagus: the Larva

It each time that It tries to stand on Its legs
and walk. At every moment, It staggers
and falls under the burden of the hunch.
;The Sacred Beetle's larva showed us long
ago a knapsack which was a storehouse of
cement to stop up the accidental cracks in
the provision-box and protect the food from
drying too rapidly. The Onthophagus'
grub exaggerates a similar warehouse to the
utmost degree; it makes a cone-shaped
monument of it, so extravagant and gro-
tesque as to border on caricature. Is It
some mad masquerader's joke or a rational
deformity which will have its uses later?
The future will tell us.

Without saying anything more about It,
for lack of words to give a picture of
anything so extraordinary, I will refer
the reader to the grub of the Oniticellus,
which I sketched In an earlier chapter.^
The two hunchbacks are very much alike.

Unable to keep Its hump upright, the grub
of the Onthophagus lies down on its side
in the cell and licks the cream all around it.
There is cream everywhere, on the celling,
on the walls, on the floor. As soon as one
spot is thoroughly bared, the consumer

1 Chapter XI. of the present volume. — Translator's

Note.

403

The Sacred Beetle and Others

moves a little way on with the help of its
well-shaped legs ; it capsizes again and starts
licking again. As the cabin is large and
plentifully supplied, the patent-food diet
lasts some time.

The fat babies of the Geotrupes, the
Copris and the Sacred Beetle finish at one
brief sitting the dainty wherewith their
narrow lodge is hung, a dainty frugally
served and just sufficient to whet the appetite
and prepare the stomach for coarser fare;
but the Onthophagus' grub, that puny dwarf,
has enough to last it for a week and more.
The spacious birth-chamber, which is out of
all proportion with the nurseling's size, has
permitted this wastefulness.

At last the real loaf is attacked. In about
a month everything is consumed, except the
wall of the sack. And now the splendid
part played by the hump stands revealed.
Glass tubes, which I had got ready in
anticipation, allow me to watch the grub at
work. Growing plumper and plumper and
more and more humpbacked, it withdraws
to one end of the cell, which has become a
crumbling ruin. Here it builds a casket In
which the transformation will take place.
Its materials are the digestive residuum,
converted into mortar and heaped up in the
404

The Bull Onthophagus: the Larva

hump. The stercoral architect is about to
construct a masterpiece of elegance out of its
own ordure, held in reserve in that re-
ceptacle.

I follow Its movements with the magnify-
ing-glass. It curves itself into a loop, closes
the circuit of the digestive apparatus, brings
its two ends into contact and, with the tip
of its mandibles, seizes a pellet of dung
evacuated at that moment. This pellet is
extracted very neatly and moulded into a
brick which is measured most carefully. A
slight bend of the creature's neck sets the
brick in place. Others follow, laid in the
most scrupulously regular courses one above
the other. Giving a tap here and there with
Its palpi, the grub makes sure of the steadi-
ness of the parts, their accurate binding,
their orderly arrangement. It turns round
in the centre of the work as the edifice rises,
even as a mason does when building a turret.

Sometimes the brick that has been laid be-
comes loose, because the cement has given
way. The grub takes it up again with its
mandibles, but, before replacing it, coats it
with an adhesive moisture. It holds it to Its
anus, whence a gummy consolidatlng-extract
trickles immediately and almost impercepti-
bly. The hump supplies the materials; the
40s

The Sacred Beetle and Others

intestines give, If necessary, the glue that
sticks them together.

In this way, an attractive house is
obtained, ovoid in form, polished as stucco
within and adorned on the outside with
slightly projecting scales, similar to those
on a cedar-cone. Each of these scales is
one of the bricks that have been produced
from the hump. The casket Is not large :
a cherry-stone would about represent its
dimensions; but It Is so accurate, so prettily
fashioned that It will bear comparison with
the finest products of entomological in-
dustry.

The Bull Onthophagus has not a mono-
poly of this jeweller's art: all, throughout
the group, excel in it to the same degree.
One of the smallest, the Forked Ontho-
phagus, whose work Is hardly larger than a
pepper-corn. Is as expert as the others In the
manufacture of boxes shaped hke a cedar-
cone. It is a family-gift, an invariable gift,
despite all differences in size, costume or
hornery. The Bison Onitis, the Yellow-
footed Onlticellus and certainly many others
retire, for the transformation, into a resi-
dence similar in architecture to that of the
Onthophagi; they too tell us that Instincts
are independent of structure.
406

The Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

In the first week of July, let us complete
the destruction of the Bull Onthophagus'
cell, already much impaired by the grub,
which, after exhausting the contents of its
knapsack, has gnawed the inner layer of the
walls. The ruins are removed as easily as
the husk of a ripe walnut. A sort of shell-
ing process gives us the seed, that is to say,
the nymphal casket, which comes out quite
neatly, without sticking to its wrapper at any
point. Break open the gem. The nymph
is there, half-transparent and as it were
carved out of crystal. Fortune favours me
with a male, who is more interesting because
of his frontal armour.

The horns outline a splendid crescent,
leaning backwards and resting on the
shoulders. They are swollen; they are
colourless, like everything that hfe elabor-
ates in the midst of a generating-fluid; and
at their base are the dark ocular specks, not
yet capable of sight, but promising to be-'
come so. The clypeus is expanding and
beginning to stand out. Seen from the
front, the head is that of a Bull, with a wide
muzzle and enormous horns, copied from
those of the Aurochs.

If the artists in the time of the Pharaohs
had known the immature Onthophagus, they
407

The Sacred Beetle and Others

would certainly have used him for their
hieratical images. He is quite as good as
the Sacred Beetle and even better from
the point of view of those oddities which
offer such scope to sacerdotal symbolism.
On the front edge of the corselet, a single
horn rises, as powerful as the two others and
shaped Hke a cylinder ending in a conical
knob. It points forward and is fixed in the
middle of the frontal crescent, projecting a
little beyond it. The arrangement is glori-
ously original. The carvers of hiero-
glyphics would have beheld in it the crescent
of Isis wherein dips the edge of the world.
Some other peculiarities complete the
nymph's curious appearance. To right and
left, the abdomen is armed, on either side,
with four little horns resembling crystal
spikes. Total, eleven pieces in the crea-
ture's harness: two on the forehead; one on
the thorax; eight on the abdomen. The
beast of yore delighted in queer horns : cert-
ain reptiles of the geological period stuck a
pointed spur on their upper eyelids. The
Onthophagus, more greatly daring, sports
eight on the sides of his belly, in addition
to the spear which he plants upon his back.
The frontal horns may be excused: they are
fairly common; but what does he propose to
408

The Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

do with the others? Nothing at all. They
are passing fancies, jewels of early youth;
the adult insect will not retain the least trace
of them.

The nymph matures. The appendages
of the forehead, at first quite crystalline, now
show, when held up to the light, a streak
of reddish brown, curved like a bow. This
is the real horn taking shape, consistency and
colour. The appendage of the corselet and
those of the belly, on the other hand,
preserve their glassy appearance. They
are barren sacks, void of any germ capable
of development. The organism produced
them in a moment of impulse; now, scorn-
ful, or perhaps powerless, it allows its work
to wither and become useless.

When the nymph sheds its covering and
the delicate tunic of the adult form is rent,
these strange horns crumble into fragments,
which fall away with the rest of the cast
clothing. In the hope of finding at least a
trace of the vanished things, the lens vainly
explores the bases but lately occupied.
There Is nothing appreciable left: the nymph
is now smooth; the real has given place to
the non-existent. Of the accessory panoply
so full of promise, absolutely naught re-
mains : everything has vanished into thin air.
409

The Sacred Beetle and Others

The Bull Cnthophagus is not the only one
endowed with these fleeting appendages,
which completely disappear when the nymph
sheds its clothes. The other members of
the tribe possess similar horny manifesta-
tions on their bellies and corselets. One of
them, the Spectral Onthophagus, on achieving
the perfect state, adorns the front of his
corselet with four tiny studs arranged in a
semicircle. The two end ones stand alone;
the two middle ones are together. [These
last correspond exactly with the base of the
nymph's thoracic horn and might easily be
taken for the atrophied remnant of the
vanished appendage. We must abandon
this idea, however, for the lateral studs,
which are more developed than the middle
ones, occupy points where the nymph had no
horns. In this Onthophagus, as in the
others, the nymphal armour is misleading
and abortive.

Certain Dung-beetles related to the On-
thophagi likewise possess horned nymphs.
One of these is the Yellow-footed Oniti-
cellus, the only one whom circumstances have
allowed me to examine from this point of
view. He wears, in the nymphal stage, a
magnificent horn on his corselet and a row
of four spikes on each side of his abdomen,
410

The Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

as is the rule among the Onthophagi. This
all disappears entirely in the adult insect.

It seems likely that, if I had known how
to improve the occasion some years ago,
when I was successfully rearing the Bison
Onitis sent me from MontpeUier, I should
have perceived the same armour on the
nymph's thorax and abdomen. Not having
been warned by earlier observations and
being anxious also to disturb the pair of
strangers as little as possible, I let the
opportunity slip.

Let us remark lastly that the Onitis,
Oniticellus and Onthophagus genera all
three construct for the nymphosis a scaly
cabin whose shape suggests the cedar-cone
and the fruit of the alder. One may there-
fore admit, without being too venturesome,
that the various builders of similar caskets
are all acquainted with the nymphal panoply
of a horn on the corselet and a diadem of
eight spikes around the abdomen. This is
not equivalent to saying that the armour
determines the casket or the casket the
armour. These curious details go together
without influencing each other.

A simple setting forth of the facts is not
enough: we should hke to see the motive
of this horned magnificence. Is It a vague
411

The Sacred Beetle and Others

reminiscence of the customs of olden time,
when life spent its excess of young sap upon
quaint creations, banished to-day from our
better-balanced world? Is the Onthophagus
the dwarfed representative of an ancient race
of horned animals now extinct? Does it
give us a faint image of the past?

The surmise rests upon no valid founda-
tion. The Dung-beetle is recent in the
general chronology of created beings; he
ranks among the last-comers. With him
there is no means of going back to the mists
of the past, which lends itself to the inven-
tion of imaginary precursors. Geological
and even lacustrine schists, rich though the
latter be in Diptera and Weevils, have hither-
to furnished not the shghtest relic of the
dung-workers. This being so, it is wiser not
to claim horned ancestors from the distant
past as accounting for those degenerate
descendants, the Onthophagi.

Since the past explains nothing, let us turn
to the future. If the thoracic horn be not
a reminiscence, it may be a promise. It
represents a timid attempt, which the ages
will harden into a permanent weapon. It
lets us assist at the slow and gradual evolu-
tion of a new organ; it shows us life in
travail of a thing not yet existing on the
412

The Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

adult Beetle's corselet, a thing which will
exist one day. We catch the genesis of the
species in the act; the present teaches us how
the future is prepared.

And what does the Beetle propose to do
with this object of his ambition, this spear
which he hopes by and by to place upon his
spine? At any rate as a dazzling piece
of masculine finery the thing is already fash-
ionable among the various foreign Scarabs
that feed themselves and their grubs on de-
caying vegetable matter. These giants
among the wearers of armoured wing-cases
delight in associating their placid corpulence
with halberds terrible to gaze upon.

Look at one, Dynastes Hercules by name,
a denizen of rotten tree-stumps under the
scorching skies of the West Indies. The
peaceable colossus well deserves his epithet:
he measures three inches long. Of what
service can the threatening rapier of the
corselet and the toothed lifting-jack of the
forehead be to him, unless It be to make him
look grand in the presence of his female,
herself deprived of these extravagances?
Perhaps also they are of use to him In
certain operations, even as the trident helps
the Minotaur in crumbling his pellets and
carting his rubbish. Implements of which

413

The Sacred Beetle and Others

we do not know the use always strike us as
singular. Having never been intimate with
the West-Indian Hercules, I must content
myself with suspicions touching the purpose
of his fearsome equipment.

Well, one of the subjects in my insect-
house would achieve a similar savage finery
if he persisted in his attempts. I speak of
the Cow Onthophagus (O. Vacca). His
nymph has on its forehead a big horn, one
only, bent backward; on its corselet it
possesses a similar horn, jutting forward.
The two, approaching their tips, look like
some kind of pincers. What does the insect
lack in order to acquire, on a smaller scale,
the eccentric ornament of the West-Indian
Scarab? It lacks perseverance. It matures
the appendagg of the forehead and allows
that of the corselet to perish atrophied. It
succeeds no better than the Bull Ontho-
phagus in its attempt to grow a pointed stake
upon its back; it loses a glorious opportunity
of making itself fine for the wedding and
terrible in battle.

The others are no more successful. I
bring up six different species. All, in the
nymphal state, possess the thoracic horn and
the eight-pointed ventral coronet; not one
benefits by these advantages, which dis-
414

The Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

appear altogether when the adult bursts its
wrapping. My near neighbourhood numb-
ers a dozen species of Onthophagi; the
world contains some hundreds. All, natives
and foreigners, have the same general
structure ; all most probably possess the dor-
sal appendage at an early age; and none of
them, in spite of the variety of climate,
torrid in one place, temperate in another,
has succeeded in hardening It Into a
permanent horn.

Could not the future complete a work
whose design Is so very clearly traced? We
are the more inclined to ask this, because
appearances are all In favour of the question.
Examine under the magnifylng-glass the
frontal horns of the Bull Onthophagus in the
nymphal state ; then with the same scrupulous
care look at the spear upon the corselet. At
first, there Is no difference between them,
except for the general configuration. In
both cases we find the same glassy aspect,
the same sheath swollen with colourless fluid,
the same incipient organ plainly marked.
A leg In process of formation Is not more
clearly announced than the horn on the
corselet or those on the forhead.

Can time be lacking for the thoracic
growth to become organized Into a stiff and
41S

The Sacred Beetle and Others

permanent appendage? The evolution of
the nymph is swift; the insect is perfect in a
few weeks. Could it not be that, though
this brief space suffices to promote the
maturity of the horns on the forehead, the
thoracic horn requires a longer time to
ripen? Let us prolong the nymphal period
artificially and give the germ time to develop.
It seems to me that a decrease of tempera-
ture, moderated and maintained for some
weeks, for months if necessary, should be
capable of bringing about this result, by de-
laying the progress of the evolution. Then,
with a gentle slowness, favourable to delicate
formations, the promised organ will crystal-
lize, so to speak, and become the spear
promised by appearances.

The experiment attracted me. I was un-
able to undertake it for lack of the means
whereby to produce a cold, even temperature
over a long time. What should I have
obtained if my penury had not made me
abandon the enterprise? A retarding of the
progress of the metamorphosis, but nothing
more, apparently. The horn on the corselet
would have persisted in its sterility and,
sooner or later, would have disappeared.

I have reasons for my conviction. The
abode of the Onthophagus engaged on his
416

The Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

metamorphosis is not deep down; variations
of temperature ate easily felt. On the other
hand, the seasons are capricious, especially
the spring. Under the skies of Provence,
the months of May and June, if the mistral
lend a hand, have periods when the ther-
mometer drops in such a way as to suggest
a return of winter.

To these vicissitudes add the influence of
a more northerly climate. The OnthophagI
occupy a wide zone of latitude. Those of
the north, less favoured by the sun than those
of the south, might quite possibly have the
date of their transformation postponed by a
change in the weather and consequently be
subjected to a lower temperature for several
weeks. This would spin out the work of
evolution and give the thoracic armour time
to harden into horn, at rare intervals, asi;^
chance may prescribe. Here and there,
then, the requisite condition of a moderate
or even low temperature at the time of the
nymphosis actually exists, without the need
of any artificial agency.

Well, what becomes of this surplus time
placed at the service of the organic labour?
Does the promised horn ripen? Not a bit
of it: it withers just as it does under the
stimulus of a hot sun. In the records of
417

The Sacred Beetle and Others

entomology I find no mention of an Ontho-
phagus carrying a horn upon his corselet.
No one would even have suspected the
possibility of such an armour, if I had not
bruited abroad the strange appearance of the
nymph. The influence of climate therefore,
has nothing to do with the matter.

As we go more deeply into it, the question
becomes more complicated. The horny
appendages of the Onthophagus, the Copris,
the Minotaur and so many others are the
male's prerogative; the female is without
them or wears them only on a reduced and
very modest scale. We must look upon
these products as personal ornaments much
more than as implements of labour. The
male makes himself fine for the pairing; but,
with the exception of the Minotaur, who
pins down the dry pellet that needs crushing
and holds it in position with his trident, I
know none that uses his armour as a tool.
Horns and prongs on the forehead, crests
and crescents on the corselet are the male
coquette's jewels and nothing more. The
other sex requires no such baits to attract
suitors: Its femininity is enough; and finery
is neglected.

Now here is something to give us food for
thought. The nymph of the Onthophagus
418

The 'Bull Onthophagus: the Nymph

of the female sex, a nymph with an unarmed
forehead, carries on its thorax a vitreous
horn as long, as rich in promise as that of
the other sex. If this latter excrescence be
the design of an incipient ornament, then the
former would be so too, in which case the
two sexes, both anxious for self-embellish-
ment, would work with equal zeal to grow
a horn upon their thorax. We should be
witnessing the genesis of a species that would
not be really an Onthophagus, but a deriva-
tive of the group; we should be beholding
the commencement of singularities banished
hitherto from among the Dung-beetles, none
of whom, of either sex, has thought of plant-
ing a spear upon his chine. Stranger still:
the female, always the more humbly attired
throughout the entomological kingdom,
would be vying with the male In her hanker-
ing after quaint adornment. An ambition
of this sort leaves me Incredulous.

We must therefore believe that, If the
possibilities of the future should ever
produce a Dung-beetle carrying a horn upon
his corselet, this upsetter of present customs
will not be an Onthophagus who has suc-
ceeded In maturing the thoracic appendage
of the nymph, but rather an Insect resulting
from a new model. The creative power
419

The Sacred Beetle and Others

throws aside the old moulds and replaces
them by others, fashioned with fresh care, in
accordance with plans of an inexhaustible
variety. Its laboratory is not a peddling
rag-fair, where the living assume the cast
clothes of the dead: it is a medaUist's studio,
where each effigy receives the stamp of a
special die. Its treasure-house of forms,
inimitable in its riches, makes niggardliness
impossible: there is no patching up of the
old in order to create the new. It breaks
every mould once used; it does away with it,
without restoring to shabby after-touches.

Then what is the meaning of those horny
preparations, which are always blighted be-
fore they come to anything? With no great
shame I confess that I have not the slightest
idea. My reply may not be couched in
learned phraseology, but it has one merit,
that of absolute sincerity.

420

INDEX

Acarus, 216

Ant, 22, 246-247, 285

Anthidiura, 315

Aphis, 285

Aphodus {see also A. Pusil-

lus), 216, 249, 274, 348
Aphodus pusillus, 132-133
Ass, 44
Aurochs, 407

B

Barbier, Jules, 37^

Bat, 280

Bee {see also Bramble-bee,

Cotton-Bee, Hive-Bee,

Mason-bee), vii, ix, 337-

338, 385-386, 396
Beetle, passim
Bison {see Bison Onitis)
Bison Bubas {see Bison

Onitis)
Bison Onitis, 4, 267, 369-

376, 406, 411
Black, Adam and Charles,

xxiv
Black-bellied Tarantula

{see Lycosa)
Blanchard, Emile, 18-20, 32
Boa Constrictor, 234
Bramble-bee, 139^, 232s
Broad-necked Scarab, 56-57,

162-170, 204, 271, 352
Bubas {see also the varieties

below), 54-55

421

Bubas bison {see Bison Oni-
tis)

Bubas bubalis, 4

Bull, 266, 407

Bull Onthophagus, 251-252,
254, 262-264, 3/5, 377-420

Buprestis, 273

Butterfly {see also Psyche,
White Cabbage Butter-
fly). 339. 386

Camel, 325

Canary, 387

Capricorn, 273

Carre, Michel, 37^

Cat, 150, 356

Century Co., xxiv

Cetonia {see also C. aura-
ta), I, 237, 273, 334

Cetonia aurata {see Golden
Cetonia)

Chalicodoma, 332

Chamois, 266

Cicada, 40, 274, 341

Clotho Spider, 386

Cockchafer, 135, 143, 285

Copris {see also Isis Copris
and the varieties below),
xix-xx, 5, 43, 49-50, 69-
70, 170, 255, 270, 274,
294-295, 298, 301, 310,
314. 317, 320, 327, 332,
362, 365, 370-371, 374.
381, 387, 390, 397, 404t
41 S

Index

Copris htspanus {see Span-
ish Copris)

Copris lunarts {see Lunary
Copris)

Cotton-bee {see also Anthi-
dium), 139

Cow, 356

Cow Onthophagus, 250, 265,

379, 414
Crane-fly, 2
Cricket, 45, 341
Crocodile, 150

D

Darwin, Charles Robert, 233
Dermestes, 276
Dog, xx-xxi, 75
Donkey {see Ass)
Duckling, 366
Dung-beetle, passim

E

Epeira, 386
Eyed Lizard, 2

Fabre, Mile. Aglae, the au-
thor's daughter, 356
Fabre, Paul, the author's

son, 341-344
Fly, 216, 243«, 276, 386, 412
Forked Onthophagus, 250-

254, 263-265, 379, 406
Franklin, Benjamin, 117
Frisch, Johann Leon hard,
299-300

Gallic Bolboceras, xvi

Garden Spider {see Epeira)

Geotrupes {see also the va-
rieties below), xvi-xvii,
xxiv, 57-58, 69-70, 97, 223,
237, 248, 272-355, 370-371.
373, 382, 390, 404

Geotrupes hypocritus {see
Mimic Geotrupes)

Geotrupes stercorarius {see
Stercoraceous Geotrupes

Geotrupes syhvaticus, 280

Glow-worm, xxiii

Gnat, 325, 385

Goat, 266

Golden Cetonia, 331

Gorilla, 234

Grass hopper, 40W, 274^,
3IIW, 342, 386K

Ground-beetle, 273

Gull {see Laughing Gull)

Gymnopleurus {see also the
varieties below), xvi, 43-
44, 49-50, 73, 159, 170-
187, 203, 218-219, 237,
243, 270, 295, 320

Gymnopleurus pilula r i u s,
19-20, 171, 173

Gymnopleurus fl age I la tus,
171

H

Half-spotted Scarab, 56-57,
74, 163

Hedgehog, 280

Hen, 97, 239, 393

Hister, 276

Hive-bee, 22, 64, 246-248

Horapollo, 147-154, 159, 235

Horse, xiv, 3, 43, 87-89, 258,
297, 3n

Horse-leech, 2, 38

Horus Apollo {see Hora-
pollo)

422

Index

Hydrophilus, 3

I

Ibis, 150

Illiger, Johann Karl Wil-

helm, 19-20, 33
Isis Copris, 236

Joseph, the groom, 43-44.

L

Labyrinth Spider, 386
La Fontaine, Jean de, 72
Lamellicorn, 547?
Languedocian Scorpion, 398-

400
Latreille, Pierre Andre, 147-

150, 340
Laughing Gull, 2
Limnaeus, 3
Linnaeus, Carl, 369
Lizard {see Eyed Lizard)
Locust, 341, 386, 400
Longicorn, 273^
Lunary Copris, 4, 264, 355-

368
Lycosa, 386
Lycurgus, vli

M

Macmillan & Co., Ltd-, xxiv

Mademoiselle Mori, author
of, xxiv

Mantis {see Praying Man-
tis)

Mason-bee {see also Chali-
codoma), 179?^, 232^

Massee, Victor, 37^

423

Miall, Bernard, xxiv

Midge, 338, 348

Mimic Geotrupes, 5, 280-

281, 292, 295, 299, 315
Minotaur {see Minotaurus

typhosus, xvi, 4, 264-266,

383-384, 397-398, 400, 413
Mite {see Acarus)
Mole, 276
Monk Onthophagus, 250,

265
Monkey, 260-261
Montaigne, Michel Eyquem

de, 232
Moses, 278
Mule, xiii-xiv, 38, 61, 66,

87-88, 243, 253, 258, 281,

294, 297, 311, 380-381
Mulsant, Etienne Marcel,

54«, 136, 148-150, 299-

300, 324

N

Necrophorus, 276
Newt, 2

O

Oniticellus {see also O. fla-
mpes), xxiv, 2, 254-262,
269, 403, 4n

Oniticellus jiavipes {see
Y e 1 1 o w-footed Oniticel-
lus)

Onitis {see also Bison Oni-

iis), 54-55, 69, 4"
Onthophagus {see also the
varieties below), xvi, xix,
xxiv, 43-44, 49-50, 69, 216,
237, 243, 248-254, 258-
259, 261-271, 274, 320,
325, 332, 377-420

Index

Onthophagus ccenobita {see

Monk Onthophagus)
Onthophagus frantic or ni s,

271
Onthophagus furcatus {see

Forked Onthophagus)
Onthophagus lemur {see

Spectral Onthophagus)
Onthophagus nuchic ornis,

250, 265, 379
Onthophagus Schreberi {see

Schreber's Onthophagus)
Onthophagus t aur u s {see

Bull Onthophagus)
Onthophagus <v a c c a {see

Cow Onthophagus)
Orus Apollo {see Horapollo)
Owl, 240, 280

Palseotherium, 59

Pieris {see White Cabbage

Butterfly)
Pigeon, 394-396
Pill-rolling Gymnopleu r u s

{see G. pilularius)
Pilularius flagellatus, 332
Planorbis, 3
Pock-raarked Gymnopleurus

{see G. flagellatus)
Pock-marked Scarab, 74
Praying Mantis, 311, 386
Proudhon, Pierre Joseph, 17
Psyche, 285

R

Rabelais, Frangois, 260

Ram, 266

Regulus, 42

Reindeer, 266

Resin-bee (see Anthidium)

Rhinoceros, 264
Rodwell, Miss Frances, xxiv
Rose-chafer {see Cetonia)
Rove-beetle {see Staphyli-
nus)

S

Sacred Beetle, ix-xxi, i-i66,
i68, 170-179, 184-187,203,
207, 211-213, 217, 219-
220, 222-223, 233-237, 240,
243, 246, 255, 259, 262,
270, 293-294, 297-298, 301-
302, 317-318, 320, 325-
326, 332, 340, 342, 345,
352, 356, 381, 392-393»
397, 403-404, 408

Sacred Scarab {see Sacred
Beetle)

Saperda {see also Scalary
Saperda), 273

Scalary Saperda, 273

Scarab {see also Sacred Bee-
tle), 54-59, 163, 171, 176,
203-204, 235, 274, 295,
310, 314, 320, 327, 332,
350-351, 370, 374. 384.
387, 390

Scarabaeus {see Scarab and
the varieties below)

Scarabaeus cicatrisosus {see
Sacred Scarab)

Scarabaeus lati c 0 1 1 i s {see
Broad-necked Scarab)

Scarabaeus sacer {see Sa-
cred Beetle)

Scarabaeus semlpunc tatus
(see Half-spotted Scarab)

Scarred Scarab, 56-57

Schaeffer's Sisyphus, 336-

355, 370
Schreber's Ontho p h a g u s,
132, 250, 379

424

Index

Scolia, 12X, 331

Scorpion {see Languedocian

Scorpion)
Sheep, xiv-xv, xx-xxi, 3, 61,

66, 82, 87, 89, 107, 131,

139, 171, i75» 187, 213,

255, 284, 297-298, 343,

362, 380, 382, 395
Silpha, 276
Sisyphus {see also S. Schaef-

feri), 73, 381, 383-384,

387, 390
Sisyphus Schaeferi {see

SchaeflFer's Sisyphus)
Snake, 276
Spanish Copris, xvi, xxiv,

3-4, 49-50, 66-6T, 184-247,

264-265, 332, 340, 355-

356, 360, 362-363
Sparrow, 174, 219
Spectral Onthophagus, 250,

271, 379, 410
Sphex, 121 \

Spider {see also the several

varieties), 344, 366, 386
Stag, 266
Staphylinus, 216
Starfish, 356
Steer, 370
Stercoraceous Geotrupes, 5,

66-6T, 280-281, 292, 295,
299, 307, 324-325
Stickleback, 2, 312
Swallow, 2, 338

T

Teixeira de Mattos, Alex-

ander, xxiv, \on, izinn,
i39«. 179^^. 243«, 274«

Tick {see Acarus)

Titmouse, 387

Toad, 103, 280, 312-313

Turkey, 192

U

Unwin, T. Fisher, xxiv
Urquhart, Sir Thomas, zSm

Vincent de Paul, St., 234
Virgil, ix

W

Warbler, 285

Wasp {see also the several

varieties), 246

337-338, 385-386
Water-snail, 3
Weevil, xxiii, 285, 412
Wheat-ear, 45
White Cabbage Butterfly,

336-337
Wren, 387

Yellow - footed Oniticellus,
254-262, 406, 410-41 I

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