Insect Adventures

t shows the family. This is a smooth and shiny line, at the back of the tip-end of the abdomen, a groove along which the sting slides up and down when the insect is on the defensive. The particular

the size of t

suit her to perfection. Every spring she takes possession of them, never alone, but in gangs whose number varies gr

ing would soon call to order any adventuress Bee who dared to make her way into another's dwe

es very seldom, so busy are they at the bottom of their pits. At moments, here and there, the summit of a tiny mole-hill begins to totter and tumb

rned themselves into harvesters. At every moment I see them settling, al

which goes down into the ground from eight to twelve inches. This is

. They are oval hollows, three quarters of an inch long, dug out of the clay. They end in

s of the polishing tool that has given the last finish to the work. What can this polisher be? None other than the

ng through. The Bee has varnished the clay of her cell with the saliva applied by her t

jaws to spade the earth, and her feet, armed with tiny claws, for rakes. She collects the dirt and then, moving backwards with her fore-legs closed over the load, she lifts it up through the shaft an

all floury with pollen, the Bee returns to her village. Flying very low, almost level with the ground, she hesitates, with sudden turns and bewildered movements. It appears as if she were having trouble to find her own bu

elf and drops her load of pollen; then, turning round, she empties the honey in her crop upon the floury mass. This done, the unwearied one leaves the burrow and flies awa

and the soft part outside. The middle of the loaf, the food which will be eaten last, when the grub has gained strength, consists of almost nothing but dry pollen. The Bee k

ee is different. She leaves the cells opening into the burrow, so that she can look into them daily and see how her family is getting on. I imagine tha

to weave their wrappers, or cocoons, and change into chrysales. Then, and not till then, the cells are closed; a big clay sto

months or so; they leave the cells about the end of June, flying off t

AND THE

here are brigands about. One of them is an insignifican

-red; face, white. Corselet, pearl-gray, with five rows of fine black dots, which are the r

ues her, keeping behind in all the turns of her wavering flight. At last, the Bee suddenly dives indoors. No less suddenly the Gnat settles on the mole-hill, quite close to the entrance. Motionless, with her head turned toward

f she liked, rip up with her claw the tiny bandit who ruins her home; she could crunch her with her jaws, run her through with her sting. She does nothing of the sort,

led cells, for they are all open, as I have said; she leisurely places her eggs in one of them. No one will disturb her until the Bee's retur

scattered over the floor of the cell. These are the Gnat's children. With them we sometimes find the lawful owner, the grub-worm of the Bee, but stunted and thin with fasting. His greedy companions,

ver kills the strange grubs, or even turns them out of doors. She seals up the cells in which the Gnat children have fe

OORKE

mother's house, all of them together, without dispute. They come and go peacefully through the same door, attend to their business, pass and let the others pass. Down at

metimes several appear upon the scene at almost the same moment. The passage is too narrow for two, especially when they have to avoid jostling each other and so making the floury burden fall to the floor. The one nearest to the opening enters quickly. The

es to outdo the other in politeness. I see some who, when on the point of coming out from the pit, go down again and leave the passage free

es the house, suddenly fall and give a free passage. As soon as the new arrival has entered, the trap rises back into its place, almost level with the ground, and closes the e

head she stops up the top of the entrance hall. If any one belonging to the house wants to go in or out, she "pulls the cord," that is to say, she withdraws to a spot where the gallery becomes wider and leaves

e top of her head is bald and her dress is dingy and threadbare. All the nap is gone; and one can hardly make out the

he mother of the actual workers, the grandmother of the present grubs. When she was young, three months ago, she wore herself out making h

Fontaine's fable, who, looking through

foot, or I shan

no less suspicious. S

t of a Wild Honey-bee,

ling unless she be recognize

ous adventuress, who would not be sorry to know the meaning of

" says the doorkeeping Bee,

dmother leaves her sentry-box, flings herself upon the saucy Ant, beats her, and

catch it!' says th

hem vacant for lack of heirs. Seeking for a home wherein to stack her Robinia-leaf honey-pots, she often makes a flying visit to my colonies of Wild Bees. A burrow seems to take her fancy; but, befor

e grandmother is there, comes a little higher, and bars the way. Follows a not very serious contest. The stran

, that she was entering the Leaf-cutter's house! She soon finds out her mistake; she meets the grandmother Bee, who punishes h

ds and from the fields to the burrows. The older ones, faded and dispirited, wander idly from hole to hole. They look as though they had lost their way and could not find their homes. Who are these vagabonds? I see in them afflicted ones who have lost a family through the act of the hateful Gnat. At the awakening of summer, the poor mother

ithdraw into the passage, as she would before a young Bee returning from the fields. Instead of that, she threatens the intruder with her feet and jaws. The other

rer and more languid from day to day; then they disappear for good. T

ernoon, when the heat is great and the working Bees do not go to the fields, but stay indoors instead, preparing the new cells, the grandmother is still upstairs, stopping the door with her bald head. She takes no nap during the st

ome, because, until spring returns, she is underground in the pupa state, that is, wrapped up in her cocoon. But in her absence there is no lack, among the Fly rabble, of other parasites. And yet, for