The leaf selected belongs to the intermediate rows. Though still of a doubtful green, in which yellow predominates, soft and shiny with varnish, it has very nearly attained the final dimensions. Its denticulations swell into delicate glandular pads, whence oozes a little of the viscous matter that smears the buds at the moment when their scales separate.
Now a word on the tools. The legs are provided with two claws shaped like the hook of a steel-yard. The lower side of the tarsi carries a thick brush of white bristles. Thus shod, the insect very nimbly climbs the most slippery perpendicular walls; it can stand and run like a Fly, back downwards, on the ceiling of a glass bell. This characteristic alone is enough to suggest the delicate balance which its work will demand.
The beak, the curved and powerful rostrum, without being exaggerated in size, like those of the Balanini, expands at the tip into a spatula ending in a pair of fine shears. It makes an excellent stylet, which plays the first part of all.
The leaf, as a matter of fact, cannot be rolled in its actual condition. It is a living sheet which, [[115]]owing to the rush of the sap and the resilience of the tissues, would recover its flatness while the insect was endeavouring to bend it. The dwarf has not the strength to master an object of this size, to roll it up so long as it retains the elasticity of life. This is obvious to our eyes; it is obvious likewise to the Weevil’s.
How is she to obtain the degree of lifeless flexibility required in the circumstances? We might say:
‘The leaf must be plucked, allowed to fall to the earth and manipulated on the ground when sufficiently faded.’
The Weevil knows more than we do about these things and does not share our opinion. What she says to herself is:
‘On the ground, amid the intricate obstructions of the grass, my task would be impracticable. I want elbow-room; I want the thing to hang in the air, free from any obstacle. And there is a more important condition: my larva would refuse a rank, withered sausage; it insists on food that retains a certain freshness. The cylinder which I intend for its consumption must be not a dead leaf but an enfeebled leaf, not entirely deprived of the juices with which the tree supplies it. I must wean my leaf and not kill it outright, so that, when dead, it will remain in its place during the few days of the grub’s extreme youth.’
The mother therefore, having made her selection, [[116]]takes up her stand on the stalk of the leaf and there patiently inserts her rostrum, turning it with a persistency that denotes the great importance of this stiletto-thrust. A little wound opens, a fairly deep wound, which soon becomes a speck of decay.
It is done: the conduits are cut and allow only a small quantity of sap to ooze into the edge. At the injured point the leaf yields under its own weight; it droops perpendicularly, becomes slightly withered and soon acquires the requisite flexibility. The moment has come for operating on it.