I will tell you about another encounter of a Sand-Wasp with a Gray Worm which I witnessed. It was in May, when I detected a Sand-Wasp giving a last sweep of the rake to her burrow, on the smooth, hard path. She had paralyzed her Caterpillar, probably, and left it a few yards away from the home while she made ready the entrance. At last the cave is pronounced spick and span, and the doorway thought wide enough to admit the bulky prey. The Sand-Wasp sets off in search of her captive.
She finds it easily. It is a Gray Worm, lying on the ground: but, alas, the Ants have found it, too; they have already invaded it. The Wasp now scorns it. She will not have anything to do with a Worm which she must share with Ants. To drive them away is impossible; for each one sent to the right-about, ten would return to the attack. So the Wasp seems to think; for she goes on with her hunting, without indulging in useless strife.
She explores the soil within a radius of ten feet from the nest, on foot, little by little, without hurrying; she lashes the ground continually with her antennæ curved like a bow. For nearly three hours, in the heat of the sun, I watch her search. What a difficult thing a Gray Worm is to find, for a Wasp who needs it just at that moment!
It is no less difficult for man. I have a plan. I wish to give the Wasp a Worm in order to see how she paralyzes it.
Favier, my old soldier friend, is there, gardening. I call out to him:
“Come here, quick; I want some Gray Worms!”
I explain the thing to him. He understands at once and goes in search. He digs at the foot of the lettuces, he scrapes among the strawberry-beds, he inspects the iris-borders. I know his sharp eyes and his intelligence; I have every confidence in him. Meanwhile, time passes.
“Well, Favier? Where’s that Gray Worm?”
“I can’t find one, sir.”
“Bother! Then come to the rescue, you others! Claire, Aglaé, all of you! Hurry up, hunt and find!”