A still more common British insect, the dorr, clock, or dung-beetle (Geotrupes stercorarius), uses different materials for burying along with its eggs. “It digs,” to use the words of Kirby and Spence, “a deep cylindrical hole, and carrying down a mass of the dung to the bottom, in it deposits its eggs. And many of the species of the genus Ateuchus roll together wet dung into round pellets, deposit an egg in the midst of each, and when dry push them backwards, by their hind feet, to holes of the surprising depth of three feet, which they have previously dug for their reception, and which are often several yards distant. The attention of these insects to their eggs is so remarkable, that it was observed in the earliest ages, and is mentioned by ancient writers, but with the addition of many fables; as that they were all of the male sex; that they became young again every year; and that they rolled the pellets containing their eggs from sunrise to sunset every day, for twenty-eight days, without intermission.”[CH]
“We frequently notice in our evening walks,” says Mr. Knapp, "the murmuring passage, and are often stricken by the heedless flight of the great dorr-beetle (Geotrupes stercorarius), clocks, as the boys call them. But this evening my attention was called to them in particular, by the constant passing of such a number as to constitute something like a little stream; and I was led to search into the object of their direct flight, as in general it is irregular and seemingly inquisitive. I soon found that they dropped on some recent nuisance: but what powers of perception must these creatures possess, drawn from all distances and directions by the very little fetor which, in such a calm evening, could be diffused around, and by what inconceivable means could odours reach, this beetle in such a manner as to rouse so inert an insect into action! But it is appointed one of the great scavengers of the earth, and marvellously endowed with powers of sensation, and means of effecting this purpose of its being. Exquisitely fabricated as it is to receive impressions, yet probably it is not more highly gifted than any of the other innumerable creatures that wing their way around us, or creep about our paths, though by this one perceptible faculty, thus ‘dimly seen,’ it excites our wonder and surprise. How wondrous then the whole!
"The perfect cleanliness of these creatures is a very notable circumstance, when we consider that nearly their whole lives are passed in burrowing in the earth, and removing nuisances; yet such is the admirable polish of their coating and limbs, that we very seldom find any soil adhering to them. The meloe, and some of the scarabæi, upon first emerging from their winter’s retreat, are commonly found with earth clinging to them; but the removal of this is one of the first operations of the creature; and all the beetle race, the chief occupation of which is crawling about the soil, and such dirty employs, are, notwithstanding, remarkable for the glossiness of their covering, and freedom from defilements of any kind. But purity of vesture seems to be a principal precept of Nature, and observable throughout creation. Fishes, from the nature of the element in which they reside, can contract but little impurity. Birds are unceasingly attentive to neatness and lustration of their plumage. All the slug race, though covered with slimy matter calculated to collect extraneous things, and reptiles, are perfectly free from soil. The fur and hair of beasts, in a state of liberty and health, is never filthy or sullied with dirt. Some birds roll themselves in dust, and, occasionally, particular beasts cover themselves with mire; but this is not from any liking or inclination for such things, but to free themselves from annoyances, or to prevent the bites of insects. Whether birds in preening, and beasts in dressing themselves, be directed by any instinctive faculty, we know not; but they evidently derive pleasure from the operation, and thus this feeling of enjoyment, even if the sole motive, becomes to them an essential source of comfort and of health."[CI]
The rose or green chafer (Cetonia aurata), which is one of our prettiest native insects, is one of the burrowers, and, for the purpose of depositing her eggs, digs, about the middle of June, into soft light ground. When she is seen at this operation, with her broad and delicate wings folded up in their shining green cases, speckled with white, it could hardly be imagined that she had but just descended from the air, or dropped down from some neighbouring rose.
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The proceedings of the Tumble-Dung Beetle of America (Scarabæus pilularius, Linn.) are described in a very interesting manner by Catesby, in his ‘Carolina.’ “I have,” says he, "attentively admired their industry, and mutual assisting of each other in rolling their globular balls from the place where they made them to that of their interment, which is usually the distance of some yards, more or less. This they perform breech foremost, by raising their hind parts, and forcing along the ball with their hind feet. Two or three of them are sometimes engaged in trundling one ball, which, from meeting with impediments on account of the unevenness of the ground, is sometimes deserted by them. It is, however, attempted by others with success, unless it happens to roll into some deep hollow or chink, where they are constrained to leave it; but they continue their work by rolling off the next ball that comes in their way. None of them seem to know their own balls, but an equal care for the whole appears to affect all the community. They form these pellets while the dung remains moist, and leave them to harden in the sun before they attempt to roll them. In their moving of them from place to place, both they and the balls may frequently be seen tumbling about the little eminences that are in their way. They are not, however, easily discouraged; and, by repeating their attempts, usually surmount the difficulties."
He further informs us that they “find out their subsistence by the excellency of their noses, which direct them in their flight to newly-fallen dung, on which they immediately go to work, tempering it with a proper mixture of earth. So intent are they always upon their employment, that, though handled or otherwise interrupted, they are not to be deterred, but immediately, on being freed, persist in their work without any apprehension of danger. They are said to be so exceedingly strong and active as to move about, with the greatest ease, things that are many times their own weight. Dr. Brichell was supping one evening in a planter’s house of North Carolina, when two of them were conveyed, without his knowledge, under the candlesticks. A few blows were struck on the table, and, to his great surprise, the candlesticks began to move about, apparently without any agency; and his surprise was not much lessened when, on taking one of them up, he discovered that it was only a chafer that moved it.”
We have often found the necklace-beetle (Carabus monilis) inhabiting a chamber dug out in the earth of a garden, just sufficient to contain its body, and carefully smoothed and polished. From the form of this little nest, it would seem as if it were constructed, not by digging out the earth and removing it, but chiefly by the insect pushing its body forcibly against the walls. The beetles which we have found nestling in this manner have been all males; and therefore it cannot be intended for a breeding-cell; for male insects are never, we believe, sufficiently generous to their mates to assist them in such labours. The beetle in question appears to be partial to celery trenches (J. R.); probably from the loose earth of which they are composed yielding, without much difficulty, to the pressure of its body.
[Many of the subterranean larvæ which are turned up by the spade or the plough are the imperfect conditions of earth-burrowing beetles, and many of them are among the most insidious pests of the farmer, their ravages being all the more dangerous because they are unseen.]
The most destructive, perhaps, of the creatures usually called grubs are the larvæ of the may-bug or cockchafer (Melolontha vulgaris), but too well known, particularly in the southern and midland districts of England, as well as in Ireland, where the grub is called the Connaught worm;[CJ] but fortunately not abundant in the north. We only once met with the cockchafer in Scotland, at Sorn, in Ayrshire. (J. R.) Even in the perfect state, this insect is not a little destructive to the leaves of both forest and fruit trees. In 1823, we remember to have observed almost all the trees about Dulwich and Camberwell defoliated by them; and Salisbury says, the leaves of the oaks in Richmond Park were so eaten by them, that scarcely an entire leaf was left. But it is in their previous larva state that they are most destructive, as we shall see by tracing their history.