Insect Adventures

ood, then close up the cells and fly away; now you shall hear about a Wasp who feeds her children

so hot that the only way to avoid sunstroke is to lie down at full length behind some sandy knoll, put one's head down a rabbit-burrow, or provide one's

ne at the same time of a broom, a brush, and a rake, she works at clearing her underground dwelling. The insect stands on her four hind-legs, while the front ones first scratch and then sweep the shifting sand. She shoots th

round, having been dug some time before. The Wasp wishes to make the sand at the entrance to her burrow fine, light, and free from any obstacle, so that when she alights suddenly with a Fly for her children, she can dig an entrance to her home quickly. She does this work in her spare tim

m, hollowed out down below where the sand is damper and firmer. It is large enough to contain two or three walnuts; but all it does hold at present is a Fly, a golden-green Greenbottle, with a tiny white egg laid on

for a while. But, however long she may stay away, she never forgets the young larva who has food enough to last only a short time; her mother's instinct tells her the hour when the grub has finished its food and wants more. She therefore returns to the nest, which, you must remember, does not show in the least from the surface of the ground, as the shifting sand has filled in the en

wo weeks, the mother is kept as busy as she can be satisfying her hungry child, now a large, fat grub. You see her at every moment coming back with a fresh capture, at every moment setting out

r eating. But why does she kill the Fly instead of paralyzing it? Possibly because the Fly would not make a satisfactory preserved food; it is so slight and frail, it would shrivel up and there would be nothing of it; it must be eaten fresh to be worth anything. Another reason almost certai

enjoy the shade of the umbrella. Gad-flies of various kinds would take refuge under the silken dome and sit peacefully on every part of the tightly stretched cover. To while away the hours when I had nothing to do, i

little pebbles at my umbrella? I leave my tent and look around: nothing! I hear the same sharp sounds again. I look up at the ceiling and the mystery is explained. The Fly-hunting Wasps of the neighborhood, who all

n aloft, where so lively was the fray that one could not tell which was attacker, which attacked. The struggle did not last long: the Wasp would s

day,

rth. The Wasp hovers above the sand and then dips down, very slowly and cautiously, all the time humming. If her keen eyes see anything unusual, she slows up in her descent, hovers for a second or two, goes up again, comes down again and flies away,

ratches a little in front of her, gives a push with her head, and at once enters, carrying the Fly. The sand falls in, the door closes, and the Wasp is at home. It makes no differen

y; she never gives it when there is no peril. But who is the enemy? It is a miserable little Fly, feeble and harmless in appearance, whom we have mentioned in another chapter. The Wasp, the scour

tle wretch of a Fly and get rid of her? I do not know. It must be because this wretched little Fly has her tiny p

t patience for the moment when the Wasp dives into her home, with her game clasped between her legs. Just as she has half her body well within the entrance and is about to disappear underground, the Fly dashes up and settles on the piece of game that projects a little way beyond the hinder end of the Wasp; and while the latter is delayed by the difficult

trance, carefully hidden though it be. Their dull-brown color, their great blood-red eyes, their astonishing patience, have often reminded me of a

ot keep them off. At last she grows weary and alights; they also alight, still behind her. The Wasp darts off again, with an indignant whimpering; the Midges dart after her. The Wasp tries one more way to get rid of them. She flies far away at full speed, hoping that they will follow and l

its cocoon. It has not very much silk in its body to use for this, so it uses grains of sand to strengthen it. First it pushes away the remains of its food and forces them into a corne

k, picks up the sand almost grain by grain with its mouth. If any grain found is too large, it is thrown away. When the sand is sorted in this way, the grub brings some into the hammock in

nd one by one upon this foundation. The cocoon is all finished now, except that the grub gives some finishing touches to the inside by glazing the walls w